Lady Smoke (Ash Princess Trilogy #2)(65)

“Does it help?” I ask, scrambling back up to my feet. “Hitting someone instead of talking?”

She only glowers at me. “Would you like to try? If you fought half as well as you talked, we would actually be getting somewhere.”

I feel my face heat up. “Queens are supposed to speak better than they fight,” I point out. “One day, Astrea won’t be at war and she’ll need a leader.”

“Better you than me,” she says. “Let’s go again.”

I groan. “I need a break and some water,” I say. “Ten minutes.”

Artemisia purses her lips. “Five,” she says, though mercifully she sets down her sword and sits on the sofa that has been pushed back against the wall.

I walk toward my basin and pour us each a cup of water. After I pass one to her, I sit next to her.

“S?ren’s being difficult.” The words force their way forward even though I don’t really mean to say them. His confession in the garden is weighing so heavily on me, though, and there is no one else I can talk to about it. Blaise and Heron are out of the question and the idea of confiding in Dragonsbane is laughable. I take another sip of water and continue. “I thought everything was all right between us, but yesterday he said he didn’t want me to marry someone else because he still has feelings for me.”

Artemisia takes a long sip of her water, glaring at me over the rim of her cup.

“And?” she asks me when she’s done, wiping away the droplets left on her top lip with her sleeve. “Do you expect me to ask you how you feel about that? I can’t stress how little I care about your feelings, Theo,” she says.

“I was only talking,” I say, trying to hide my hurt. “It’s what friends do.”

She gives a snort of laughter. “We aren’t that kind of friends,” she says before leveling a look at me, like she can see straight through to my heart. “I’m not her, you know. I’m not your Kalovaxian friend.”

Artemisia knows Cress’s name, but she won’t say it out loud. I’m almost glad she doesn’t, because I don’t think I’d be able to hold on to a neutral expression. Even now, I falter.

“I didn’t say you were,” I tell her. “I only meant—”

“The extent to which I care about S?ren is limited to his use to me,” she says. “If you want to talk about alliances he may have to other countries or intel he might possess about Kalovaxian battle strategy, I’m happy to hear it. But if you want to wax poetic about his muscles or his eyes or whatever nonsense you find handsome, I would recommend finding someone else. Or better yet, keep it to yourself. It makes you look like a weak sixteen-year-old girl, and that’s hardly the image you want to be presenting to those who would look to you for leadership.”

Her words sting and burn through me. I set down my water cup and pick up my sword.

“Let’s go again,” I tell her.

She smirks and gets to her feet, picking up her own sword.

I still lose, but this time I manage to get in a few sloppy hits of my own before she hits me hard on the shoulder.

“That’s more like it,” she says with a satisfied nod. “I’ll have to irritate you more often.”

I snort. “I’m not sure that’s possible,” I say.

We are interrupted by a sharp knock on my door. I freeze, panic coursing through me, but Artemisia only laughs.

“Relax,” she says. “We aren’t in Astrea. We aren’t doing anything wrong.”

I smile slightly. “Still,” I say, “I doubt sword fighting is King Etristo’s idea of ladylike behavior.”

She shakes her head. “Gods, I’m glad I don’t have to be around him as often as you do. I think I’d kill him.”

She says it casually enough, but I can’t help but wonder how serious she is.

“He must be in his eighties,” I tell her, crossing the room to answer the door. “It wouldn’t be a fair fight.”

I pull open the door to find an attendant waiting, dressed in a uniform in the King’s colors of white and orange, which likely costs more than she makes in a year. Her eyes widen as she takes in my own outfit.

“Queen Theodosia?” she asks, flustered.

“Yes, that’s me,” I say with a smile that I hope will put her at ease, but it seems to have the opposite effect.

She holds out a letter with shaking hands, her eyes dropping to stare at the floor.

“From His Highness, King Etristo,” she says.

“Thank you,” I say, taking the letter.

Before I can ask if there’s anything else, she scurries back down the hall.

“Frightened little thing,” Artemisia says from behind me. I ignore her, opening the letter with my pinky nail. “Well?” she presses.

I scan the letter quickly—it’s quite short.

“?‘Dear Queen Theodosya’—he spelled my name wrong,” I say.

She shrugs. “Probably not him; I’d imagine it was dictated.”

I know that it’s a small thing and I shouldn’t be annoyed, but my name was taken away from me for ten years. Now that it’s mine again, seeing it butchered hurts more than I thought it would. I continue.

“?‘Another suitor has arrived in hopes of wooing you. You will meet Chief Kapil of the Vecturian Isles at dinner tonight.’?”