One Dark Throne (Three Dark Crowns #2)(69)

Mirabella joins him in the sitting room, where he has cut a loaf of his bread and spread it with butter. There are also some jarred apples and a wedge of blue-veined cheese.

“I miss your apron,” she says, and he laughs.

They eat for a few moments in silence. It is quiet on the top floor, but downstairs must be loud with people preparing for the ball tomorrow night. Sara, Bree, and Elizabeth are there, and Luca with her gaggle of priestesses, intent on observing every move the Arrons make.

“Have you seen the bear?” Mirabella asks quietly.

“His name is Braddock,” Billy replies, his voice grave. “And I have. I walked through the courtyard and snuck him some sugared walnuts from a street vendor.”

“No one tried to stop you?”

“They don’t even have a fence around the cage. I suppose they don’t think anyone would be stupid enough to stick their arms between the bars. Maybe even I shouldn’t have.”

“Do not be silly. He is still her familiar, even if she is gone. He remembers those she loved.”

Billy’s bite of bread stalls between his plate and his mouth.

“Will we let him go after it’s over?” he asks. “Back to the woods at Innisfuil, where she found him?”

“Is that what she would want?”

“I don’t know. I think so. Or maybe she would want Jules to have him.” Billy runs his hand roughly across his face.

Mirabella takes a deep breath and looks around the room. It is calm and elegant, the windows closed against the noisy streets and armed priestesses set in pairs in the hall.

“It will all be over soon,” she says. “One sleepless night. Then the ball. And then the duel.”

“And then you are queen,” says Billy.

Mirabella quiets. Up to now, it has all been haste and resolve. Quickly mobilizing the priestesses and the Westwoods and thinking of ways to antagonize Katharine. But now she is here, with only hours to fill before their fate, and her certainty is beginning to fade. What was it Luca said about knowing the Goddess’s will? Clear one moment and gone the next.

“Mirabella? Are you all right?”

“Not quite,” she says.

“What?”

“After the duel, I will be the presumptive queen. I will not be crowned officially until Beltane in the spring. So you will have fall and a long winter to wait before you are a king.”

Billy wipes at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. He would rather wait longer. Before she can be crowned, he may come to resent this bargain they struck.

“We are friends, are we not, Billy? And friendship in marriage is a strong foundation.”

Hesitantly, he slides his hand across the table and turns it palm up. Equally hesitant, she places her hand atop it.

She feels no spark. No quickening of her pulse. Looking into his eyes is not like looking into Joseph’s. She squeezes his hand.

“But I am not her,” she says, and sighs. “I am not Arsinoe, and if come Beltane, you do not wish to take part in the Hunt of the Stags and do not wish to become king—”

He shakes her hand lightly. “Don’t think of this now. There’s plenty of time. Only . . . I didn’t think there would still be a hunt. Since we’ve declared for each other.”

“It will only be a formality. Nicolas Martel may still take part, and he may try to kill you and take the crown. But we will have priestesses on the hunt to guard you.”

“Well, that’s good, then,” he says sarcastically. He turns toward the windows. “What is that sound? Sounds like chanting.”

They go to the window and look down. A crowd has gathered, big enough to block the street between the Highbern and the Volroy, which is causing some shouting on both sides as carts try to make their way past. Those in the center stare up at her floor. Cursing her. Telling her to go back to Rolanth.

“Mira,” Billy says. “You’re smiling.”

“Am I?” She gazes down and chuckles. “To hear Luca tell it, the whole island is sick of the poisoners, and I am the savior they wait for. What a tale.”

“It is true, to some. To many.”

She draws on her gift. Below, dark shadows form on the upturned faces of the crowd as her thunderclouds gather over the hotel. The people stop shouting. She cracks lightning through the air, and they duck and hold on to each other.

“What are you doing?” Billy asks.

“Nothing,” she replies. “Only making sure that they know that the elemental queen is here.”





GREAVESDRAKE MANOR





Pietyr glares out the window at Nicolas practicing his archery, this time from horseback. Every time Nicolas gallops past, Katharine can see Pietyr wishing for him to fall. And every time Nicolas shoots, she flinches, expecting the bolt to break through the window and pierce Pietyr’s chest.

“There is something off about him, Katharine,” Pietyr says. “And not just for a mainlander.”

“Pietyr. Come away from the window.”

“You should get rid of him. He will never be your king-consort anyway; you know Natalia intends to choose the Chatworth boy.”

Katharine makes a face. Chatworth is with Mirabella now. Before that he was with Arsinoe.

“I do not know what she can be thinking,” Katharine says. “What will that look like, to accept my sisters’ cast-offs? And besides, I do not like him.”