One Dark Throne (Three Dark Crowns #2)(68)

“Only for a few days. And while they are here, they will spend their money.”

Up and down the main thoroughfare on High Street, shop windows are filled with fresh displays of goods. Carts laden with golden smoked ducks and baskets of fruit travel down back alleys to be unloaded into storerooms. It is a chance for non-poisoner merchants to show their best, and they have been down at the Bardon Harbor docks since before dawn, fighting with the poisoner shops over the choice sea catch before it is laced with henbane and nightshade.

“They will spend money and make money,” says Genevieve. “The elemental merchants will set up stalls to sell their paintings and weavings and glass trinkets.”

Natalia watches her sister pout. After the duel is over, Genevieve is sure to be wearing an elemental jewel or two and parading about in a new silk scarf. Everyone knows that the finest ones come from Rolanth.

“May we stop for a bite to eat?” Genevieve asks, craning her neck toward her favorite cheese shop.

“We will take tea at the Highbern. Since we must go there anyway to finalize the ball.” Natalia takes a high step over a gutter and tugs on Genevieve’s sleeve to hurry her along. “Smile. We should not be seen with troubled frowns on our faces.”

“But we are troubled,” Genevieve says as she brightens her expression. “The duel is a disaster. They will be face-to-face, trapped there together until one lies dead. It will be just as if the Ascension were to end with them locked in the east tower. It is just what we have been trying to avoid!”

“Well, perhaps we did not need to. Kat is not the weak queen she once was. I do not know what has changed, but it is like she has woken up.”

“You do know what has changed. Even if you will not tell me. You know what happened when she went missing after Beltane. You must.”

“I do not.”

“She is so strange now.” Genevieve’s eyes narrow. “With those knives she throws and that mad laugh that comes out of her sometimes. Eating so much poison . . . and practically enjoying the sickness that follows!”

“Do not speak of her like that. Kat is not strange.”

“She is not your daughter either; she is a queen. So stop calling her ‘Kat.’”

Natalia stops midstride, and clenches her fists. Were they not in the middle of a busy public street, she would strike her sister across the face.

Genevieve clears her throat and lowers her eyes.

“Forgive me. It is the strain of the duel.”

Natalia resumes walking. They are not far now from the Highbern. She can see its flags rising above the other buildings ahead.

“Do not worry so much, Genevieve,” Natalia says quietly. “Katharine was clever enough to give us the opportunity of a ball. Tomorrow night, Mirabella will be there amid food and crowds, and by the time it is over, she will be no threat in the duel.”

“You intend to poison her?” Genevieve asks, hurrying to keep pace.

“Not to death. Just to weaken, so that Katharine will have an easy time of it in the arena. She will be able to slaughter her in front of the entire island, at her leisure.”

“How will you manage that? Your sleight of hand is good, but they will not allow us near her. You will not be able to get close enough.”

“I do not need to,” Natalia says. “Why do you think I have maintained the alliance with Chatworth all this time? Why do you think he has insinuated himself into the Westwoods’ trust?” She rolls her shoulders back. “He will do it.”

“We cannot trust a mainlander with this! And what if old Luca has turned him?”

“Impossible. The temple is not rich enough. Mirabella thinks to charge into the capital like a thundercloud. But when I am through, she will not even be able to make it rain.”





THE HIGHBERN HOTEL





The Highbern Hotel is a grand place, larger and more finely built than anything in Rolanth. The hotel’s ceilings stretch high overhead, checkered in black and gold. The columns in the ballrooms are gilded and the chandelier is the biggest Mirabella has ever seen. In her rooms, they find large beds stuffed with down, the coverlets embroidered with gold and red thread.

“What a pleasant place to stay in,” Mirabella muses. “Were I not here to kill or die.”

Mirabella takes a seat beside her window and looks out across the rooftops. Indrid Down is very pretty, and the strong smells of the crowded city do not rise that high, so the breeze is fresh and warm. The Highbern is directly across from the west tower of the Volroy, separated only by a wide street and the long, hedge-lined courtyard of rosebushes and lilacs. Closer to the fortress, she can just make out the shape of a cage mostly obscured by topiary shrubs. Inside is a brown, motionless hill of fur. Arsinoe’s bear. It survived after all and is now the prisoner of their poisoner sister. Well, that will end, too, after Katharine is dead. Though Mirabella does not quite know what she will do with the big familiar.

Someone knocks at the door that separates her room from the sitting room, and she tears her eyes away.

“Mirabella, come out now and keep your strength up,” Billy says, his voice muffled through the wood. “I’ve brought a platter of food that required practically no cooking.”

Practically no cooking. It really is a wonder that he has gotten no better at it. No better at all.