Five Dark Fates (Three Dark Crowns, #4)(42)

‘You are very good at this, Genevieve,’ Katharine says as Genevieve runs her hands over the beaded skirt she has had designed for Bree, the official elemental of the Black Council.

‘I am glad you see the use in the talent,’ she says, eyes on her work. ‘Others might call it a waste. But there is power in the show of power. The way you are presented . . . it matters.’

‘It does. I ought to put you in charge of every formal function.’

Genevieve glances at her from the side of her eye. ‘You ought to put me at the head of your council.’

Katharine smiles kindly. Genevieve has struggled to find her place in Natalia’s absence, attempting to be many different things: the kind leader; the cunning, cutting Arron matriarch. She could tell Genevieve that she does not need to be her sister. But somehow she thinks that is something that will have to be learned on her own.

‘Yet Rho Murtra is overseeing the soldiers,’ Genevieve goes on, ‘and Antonin and the High Priestess oversee the accounts.’

‘Is it not enough that you are my master of spies?’ ‘Co-master. A title I must share with giftless Renata Hargrove, of all people.’

‘Renata,’ Katharine says. ‘Renata is nothing but eyes, and she knows where and when to place her ears to the ground. But it is you I trust the most, Genevieve.’

Genevieve turns toward her, dismissing the servants with a flap of her hand. ‘You trust me the most?’

‘I do.’

‘Because our goals are aligned?’

‘Because our goals are aligned,’ Katharine says. ‘And because you are Natalia’s sister. Do not worry, Genevieve. It is not because I think you care.’

Genevieve wraps a measuring tape around her hand like a rope. ‘I do care. I care very much, now.’ She tugs the tape tight until it digs into her skin. ‘You know the Legion Queen rides always with an oracle. Even though the sight gift is fickle and weak, I worry about the things it may tell her. What she may know before we do.’

‘I would perhaps be more inclined to fear that the Legion Queen rides with Arsinoe and that bear.’

Katharine and Genevieve spin.

‘High Priestess,’ Katharine says. ‘We did not hear you.’ ‘Few do. It is the robes, I think. The material of them. I know that Renata has a fair number of spies outfitted in temple garb.’ The old woman steps closer, and Genevieve quickly takes her leave. Like her sister before her, there is no love lost between Genevieve and the High Priestess.

‘The parade preparations are going well?’ Luca asks. She walks close to the tables where the elemental garments have been laid out. ‘I know that Rho is barely sleeping, mapping and remapping the city, identifying holes and possible places of trouble.’

‘Yes. I have seen her riding out with the soldiers morning and night.’

‘And Genevieve has ordered banners made and flags?’ ‘All that remains are fittings,’ Katharine says. ‘And the food. And the wine. And—’

Luca chuckles. ‘Do not worry so much. The people of the capital have more than enough experience putting on a show. Nothing will go wrong.’

When she, Bree, and Elizabeth are summoned to the throne room to help with the parade preparations, Mirabella hides a frown. Another dress fitting and another choice of lace are not high on her list of priorities. She must still find a way to get to Pietyr Renard. And find a way to wake him.

She is full of the dead.

Madrigal’s final words swirl through her head, as do thoughts of Daphne and Queen Illiann. The volumes about the Blue Queen in the Indrid Down Temple library were taken for researching the mist. But why had they not been returned? Is there something more? Something to hide?

‘Mira?’ Elizabeth asks. ‘Don’t you want Bree to try on her gown?’

‘Yes, of course. I am sorry. I am having a hard time concentrating.’

‘Is something wrong?’ asks Bree.

‘Everything is fine,’ she lies.

Arsinoe. How I wish you were here. Even if your counsel would prove rash and terrible.

Mirabella follows Bree and Elizabeth down the stairs as if in a dream. When they arrive in the throne room, she watches with a frozen smile as they excitedly direct the tailors. Ribbons and pearls fall to the floor in streams and seem to bounce toward her with molasses-like slowness.

‘Are you all right, sister?’ Katharine asks, and Mirabella jerks back alert. ‘Or perhaps this bores you. You have had many days like this: playing with dresses and laughing with friends.’ Katharine leans back against the edge of a table, with a serenely happy expression. ‘For me, it is still a novelty.’

Mirabella reaches for a pretty silver pendant. ‘Forgive me. Such days should always be appreciated.’ Across the room, Luca laughs as Bree shows off her beaded skirt. For the briefest of moments, the High Priestess’s eyes meet Mirabella’s. What are you waiting for? her old eyes ask. Do you think you will have forever to find your answers?

‘Katharine. How fares your Pietyr?’

Katharine clears her throat.

‘He is well. As well as he has been. Why do you ask?’

‘I know it must weigh heavily on your mind. And . . . I would like to see him.’

‘See him?’

‘Visit him,’ Mirabella amends. ‘And I would like also to see Greavesdrake Manor, where you were raised.’