Five Dark Fates (Three Dark Crowns, #4)(17)

‘How about because it’s dangerous and I would rather risk myself than anyone else?’ Arsinoe looks away from her and continues working. ‘Besides, it can’t be just anyone. There has to be a bond there.’

‘How do you know? What do you really know about low magic? Are you a master of it?’

‘I’m not,’ says Arsinoe. ‘It had a master; she is dead. But I learned from her. When Madrigal bound Jules’s curse, she did it out of love and desperation. A lot of love and desperation. That’s probably why it worked. Low magic is like a prayer, Emilia. A pleading, foolish, costly prayer.’ She stares at the knife on the table and feels the scar of every cut, every thin, pink line that mars her arms.

‘And what will it do to you?’ Emilia asks. ‘Tethering a naturalist-and-war-gifted legion curse when you are already a poisoner?’

Arsinoe narrows her eyes at the warrior as the realization dawns. ‘You think I should tether it to you.’

Emilia stands taller. ‘I think you should. Why not?’

‘A hundred reasons why not.’

‘It might go easier with me, as I already carry the war gift. I may not even notice the extra burden. And then you could maintain your strength; you would not have to bleed yourself so much during the spell.’

Arsinoe turns away and selects a piece of amber to burn, for clarity. ‘Is that what you’re after? A stronger gift for yourself? Maybe even a legion curse of your own so you won’t have any need of Jules as your queen. But that’s probably not what’s—’

Arsinoe gasps as Emilia shoves her into the wall, hard enough to take her breath away, and harder than Emilia could have done with only her hands in such close quarters. That was the war gift. Arsinoe shoves back and Emilia lets go.

‘Do not ever say anything like that to me again,’ Emilia says.

‘Fine. Ow.’

Emilia holds a hand out to help her off the wall. ‘I am sorry. Are you all right?’

‘Yes.’

‘You are not the only one who loves her, you know.’ ‘I’ve known Jules for my entire memorable life. You’ve known her less than a year. How can you already love her so much?’

Emilia lowers her eyes. It is the first time Arsinoe has ever seen her blush, and blush furiously. ‘Because I love her in a different way. A way that doesn’t take so long.’

Arsinoe blinks at the warrior’s reddened cheeks. ‘Oh.’ ‘How long did it take you to realize what you felt for Billy? Not your whole life.’

‘Billy,’ Arsinoe says. ‘Oh!’

‘You keep saying, “Oh”.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’ She watches as Emilia’s cheeks gradually regain their normal deep shade. ‘Does . . . Jules know? Does she feel the same?’

‘No, and I don’t know,’ Emilia says, and flashes her most confident smile. ‘But she will, if we can make her well enough to consider it.’ She steps close to Arsinoe and takes her by the arm. ‘Let me carry the tether. I won’t fail her. I promise.’





INDRID DOWN




Mirabella stands at a window in the king-consort’s apartment, fingers drumming against the sill as she looks over the city. Indrid Down is ugly in winter. Dark and gray and full of smoke. And it smells. Stale almost, as if it does not get enough wind off Bardon Harbor to clear it out. It is nothing like Rolanth, where the winds smell of evergreen and the thin ice that forms along railings and on the white stone is crisp and clear as crystal.

It is almost sunset. She is to face the mist tonight, in the dark, with Katharine and the Black Council watching from a safe distance at the top of the hill. The port at Bardon Harbor will be cleared of people. So no one but the Queen Crowned and her council would know whether Mirabella succeeded or failed.

That morning, she watched from that same window as a line of carriages brought the elementals Katharine had summoned from Rolanth. Her brave ‘volunteers’ who have the gift of wind and weather. Katharine will launch them on the same barge as Mirabella. Challengers, she calls them, when they are truly more like sacrifices.

‘Come,’ says Bree from behind her. ‘It is nearly time. We should get you into your gown.’

‘Why dress me at all? Only to push me out into the dark before nothing and no one?’ She turns and lets Bree do what she will. But she holds her hand up at the corset. ‘For this, I will need to breathe.’

Bree nods. ‘A poisoner contraption, anyway,’ she says as she tosses it back into the trunk. ‘Though it does do nice things for the breasts.’

Mirabella smiles despite her dark mood. At least Bree will be there. One friendly face upon the shore.

She raises her arms as Bree slips the simple black dress over her head. It is light and unadorned, no fancy embroidery or lace, and the cloak she layers on top of it is similarly plain. Nothing expensive, in case she is dragged to the bottom of the harbor in it.

Outside the door, the guards announce that the queen is coming, and Bree steps aside. Katharine sweeps into the room, followed by two servants carrying trays of tea.

‘Good. You are nearly ready.’ Katharine stands before her with her gloved hands clasped demurely at her waist. She gestures to the tea. ‘Something to settle your nerves?’

‘No thank you.’