Lady Smoke (Ash Princess Trilogy #2)(43)

She looks at me with narrowed eyes. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” she says.

It takes effort to hold back a laugh. “I’ve played worse.”



* * *



—

Blaise, Heron, and Artemisia are already waiting in my room. I suppose I should have expected that—of course they’ll want to know about the dinner. Of course I’ll have to tell them, mortified as the thought makes me.

But first I need to get out of this torture device of a dress.

“A little help, please, Art,” I say, grabbing a nightgown from the armoire and stepping behind the painted trifold screen. “And you might want to bring your dagger.”

Artemisia cuts me out of the gown that the seamstress sewed me into, though she does it with less grace, sending glass beads spilling across the floor, the sound like a hollow rainstorm.

I pull the nightgown over my head, savoring a few deep breaths. Though I was only wearing the gown a few hours, I forgot how nice it feels to take air fully into my lungs instead of little gasps here and there. Maybe that’s why Amiza and Lilia were so quiet at dinner—they couldn’t breathe, let alone speak.

“All right,” I say, stepping back around the screen. I’m aware of how ridiculous I must look now, with my loose cotton nightgown and my face fully painted and lacquered, but there are more pressing matters. I join the others in the seating area, taking the open chair next to Blaise. “We’re going to have to speak in Kalovaxian for S?ren’s sake. Is everyone all right with that?”

The others groan but ultimately agree. I can’t blame them—speaking Kalovaxian makes me feel like I’m back in the Kaiser’s court.

“We need to keep teaching you Astrean, though. It’ll save us a lot of time, to say the least,” I tell S?ren.

He nods. “I feel like an ass, but I’m picking up bits and pieces, I think. Slowly.”

“What happened tonight?” Blaise asks me in Kalovaxian. “We tried to go with you but we weren’t allowed.”

“The Sta’Criverans value their exclusivity,” S?ren says. “I was surprised they invited me, though I suppose they found it amusing since I didn’t understand a word they said.”

I tell them about the royal family and their interest in the Kaiser’s treatment of me, how they seemed not just fascinated but enthralled with the details of my captivity and punishments.

“It’s as if they don’t see me as a person, just a rare collectible with a story attached to it,” I grumble.

“Sta’Criverans in the capital tend to lead charmed, soft lives,” S?ren says. “Especially the royal family. I imagine they draw some excitement over your misery because they can’t quite fathom it to be real. It’s like you’re a character in a play.”

I frown, but before I can respond, he continues.

“What was the argument at the end?” he asks, though he looks uneasy. “I understood bits and pieces but…well, it seemed important.”

Part of me doesn’t want to answer—especially since I’ll have to explain to Blaise, Heron, and Artemisia what virginity even means—but S?ren’s right. It is important. The argument isn’t over yet and I can’t keep secrets from them again.

So I explain the conflict as simply as I can, though I feel my cheeks redden as I do. It takes all I have in me not to shudder when I tell them about the King’s proposed examination. Though he didn’t detail the specifics, they’re easy enough to surmise.

“It is common practice,” S?ren says when I finish, looking a bit green. “You were right to refuse, though.”

Artemisia nods, but there’s a crease between her eyebrows. “It will make it all the more meaningful when you finally consent.”

I stare at her, my mouth gaping open. “I’m not consenting to that,” I say. “I thought you of all people would understand—” I break off. Artemisia told me about her assault in the mines in confidence, though Heron was there, too. I doubt she wants that to be common knowledge. “You’re a woman as well,” I say instead. “Would you let them examine you like some sort of experiment?”

“No,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “But then, I don’t want to get married.”

“Neither do I!” I exclaim, louder than I mean to.

Artemisia remains unfazed by my outburst, merely arching her eyebrows.

“Fine. I don’t need to get married in order to use another country’s army to reclaim my throne. Is that better?” she asks.

I roll my eyes but can’t bring myself to answer. “It’s another problem for another day,” I say instead.

“There are getting to be a few of those building up,” Heron says, his voice quiet and unsteady around the Kalovaxian words he’s probably heard more often than spoken.

“I know,” I say, rubbing my temples. “And King Etristo said the suitors will arrive tomorrow, so I’m sure there will only be more problems to come.”

A heavy silence falls over us, pushing in at all sides. Tomorrow, suitors will arrive to bid on me, and my country and I will be put on display like one of the Theyn’s war souvenirs. The conversation at dinner tonight will be repeated tenfold with every one of them, I’d imagine, each king and emperor prodding for details of my suffering, each examining me like the hog they’re about to slaughter for their feast.