The Deepest Blue(81)
She wished she’d thought to tell Elorna that she understood why she’d lied. Elorna had been afraid. Of course I understand that. She’d chosen to live, even if it meant a life without her loved ones. She’d asked the question: How far would you go to be with the ones you love? And she’d found an answer, a limit to how far she’d go and how much she’d risk. Fear had stopped her.
It was a revelation in and of itself. Mayara had never thought her sister felt fear. But she had, and it had shaped the rest of her life. And mine.
As Mayara struggled with the excitement that Elorna lived and her desire to forgive her sister, they sped toward the island of Olaku.
So close to home. To Kelo.
And yet it could just as easily be a lifetime away.
Chapter Twenty
Queen Asana’s ship docked at Neran Stronghold on the island of Olaku. She stood at the prow, her hands lightly clasped in front of her, her face as placid as she could make it. She couldn’t stop her heart from thumping as wildly as a bird’s wings beat, but she could give every outward appearance of calm. She had practice at that.
As the sailors tied the ship to the dock, she studied the fortress. It was built into the rocky face of the island’s bones, and it radiated both elegance and power, like the Family who owned it. Curved like a conch shell, the stronghold spiraled in on itself, with the heart of the fortress protected by thick walls that looked as though they would weather a thousand storms.
Asana wished she could unleash a thousand and one storms on them. But only after her family was safe. And not even then, she admonished herself. She didn’t want an internal war—she couldn’t afford one. She wanted only to seize her power back. To make sure the ones she loved were no longer under threat.
Generations ago, when some member of some Family hit on the bright idea to control the queens with hostages, the power had shifted. Today I shift it back.
She plastered a pleasant smile on her face as Lord Maarte and his entourage approached the dock. Lady Garnah fell in beside the queen as Asana swept forward to greet him.
“Not a word,” Asana murmured to Garnah.
Lord Maarte was not the type to be amused by Lady Garnah’s outspokenness. It was best if he didn’t notice Garnah at all, and she wished the woman from Aratay would have worn something a bit subtler. Asana wouldn’t have any freedom of movement once they were in the fortress. It would have to be Kelo and Garnah who worked to find her family while Asana provided the distraction. Still, Garnah knew what she was doing—she always seemed to winnow out the necessary secrets.
And I’ll do what I must.
Even if it meant being patient when all she wanted to do was rip the fortress apart stone by stone.
Asana summoned up a warm smile. “Lord Maarte, we have missed you in Yena.”
He greeted her with a bow and then a kiss bestowed on each cheek. Asana bore them without flinching, much as she wanted to claw off every trace of him from her skin. She held out her hands, and he clasped them.
“You honor us, Your Majesty,” Lord Maarte said. His voice was sonorous, and his gaze was intense. It was the kind of gaze given by someone firmly convinced of his own handsomeness. She bet he’d never had a moment of self-doubt in his life. Odious man. “We had not expected your visit until next spring.”
“Blame my new discovery.” Asana gestured toward Kelo, who bowed on cue. She had decided to stick to the truth as much as possible, to hide the lies. “He’s an artist whose wife recently undertook the test. He came to me on her behalf, but it wasn’t sympathy that moved me. It was admiration for the beauty of his work. I am sponsoring him in a grand project: to create portraits of all the most important people on Belene. Since he’s from your island, I thought here was an appropriate place to start.”
“Wise and kind,” Lord Maarte said with approval. She plastered a smile on her face, as if flattered by his condescension. Surveying Kelo, he said, “He may have lost his wife, but he will gain fame and fortune thanks to your benevolence.”
“It was within my power to grant him this,” Asana said. She kept her voice light so no hint of her bitterness would seep into her words, and she was gratified when Lord Maarte smiled at her benevolently like he was a proud father. Like he hadn’t imprisoned her own father. She smiled back with surprising genuine happiness.
It was actually delightful to have a reason to hate him.
He hadn’t lowered his voice when he talked about fame and fortune, and Kelo had visibly flinched, but she doubted Lord Maarte noticed. Kelo had been labeled and explained, and so Lord Maarte had dismissed him.
Good, she thought. It helped that Kelo looked so little like a threat with his pretty face and with his wide eyes admiring the structure of the fortress. She knew that until he’d come to the capital, he’d never left his village. Maybe he’d visited a few other towns to sell his charm art, but he wasn’t accustomed to wealth and the kind of beauty that wealth could buy. She hoped that seeing all this wouldn’t change him too much. His innocence was rare and charming. He is exactly the kind of soul that a queen and her heirs should protect.
In a way, she was doing this for him and others like him, as much as for herself and her family. But my family first. And then I can save whoever else needs to be saved.
“He’ll need a room with good light, preferably away from other distractions.” Asana had been in the fortress enough times to know which room would fit the description she gave—it was isolated enough that any screams wouldn’t be heard.