Two Dark Reigns (Three Dark Crowns #3)(35)

Then it is Henry’s turn. He arrives on a launch lit with nine lanterns.

“One lantern for every great county of Centra,” Daphne whispers to Illiann.

“He looks very handsome in that black-and-crimson cape. Though someone should have told him that crimson is for funerals. Shall I wave?”

Daphne chuckles.

“I think he almost winked.”

Illiann chuckles as well and then stops. Below on the beach stands the final suitor. Branden, the Duke of Bevanne.

Arsinoe feels Daphne swallow and begin to fidget as Illiann and Branden stare at each other. He is good-looking, to be sure. One of the best-looking boys that Arsinoe has ever seen, and she grew up with the likes of Joseph Sandrin. But there is something else about him that strikes her, above his looks.

“Illy?” The queen does not respond, and Daphne clears her throat. “Illy? What is it? Should Henry be worried?”

Henry should be more than worried, Arsinoe thinks. For there is something in Branden’s eyes that reminds her distinctly of Queen Katharine’s wicked king-consort, Nicolas Martel.

“Arsinoe? Arsinoe!”

She jerks awake to find Billy’s hands on her shoulders. They are still on the knoll of grass between the governor’s stable and carriage house, and from the look of the sun, not much time has passed. Yet Billy is looking at her crossly, like she slept the whole party away.

“What? What’s the matter?”

“You said, ‘Henry,’ again.”

Arsinoe sits up and brushes herself off. “Hmm?” She tries to feign innocence, or perhaps confusion, but the blush creeps onto her face. Her scars must already be dark from it.

“Don’t play the fool. And don’t play me for one. You called me Henry the other day when you wanted to borrow some socks. Now who is he?”

“Shouldn’t we be getting back?” She stands and sees Mirabella approaching from the direction of the house. Billy gets to his feet beside her.

“There you are!” Mirabella calls.

“Arsinoe, stop playing with me. Have you met someone named Henry?”

“No, of course not. Why are you so upset? It was only a dream!”

Mirabella arrives in the midst of their argument and looks from one to the other as Billy picks up his jacket and beats it free of grass.

“If I were to dream and start whimpering and moaning, ‘Christine, Christine,’” he says, “I’d wake up to your hands around my throat.”

“Oh no, Billy.” Mirabella touches his shoulder. “It is nothing like that.”

“Mira.” Arsinoe shakes her head. “Keep quiet.”

“We said no secrets, sister.”

Arsinoe exhales hard through her nostrils and turns away, the closest thing to permission she can bring herself to give.

“She has been having visions of the past.”

“Visions?” Billy asks. “I didn’t think you had visions. Isn’t that . . . some other gift?”

“Not visions. I misspoke. Dreams. She has been dreaming through another queen’s eyes. A queen from the Blue Queen’s time. And she saw . . .” She pauses, as though searching for a word. “A specter, a shadow beside Joseph’s grave. A shadow that looked like us.”

Arsinoe peeks at Billy from the corner of her eye. He is utterly befuddled.

“But why would she be dreaming that?”

“I love it when you both talk about me as if I weren’t here.” Arsinoe casts a glare at them. Then, before either can ask any more questions, she stalks quickly back to the party.





BASTIAN CITY




It does not take long for word of the mist to reach Bastian City from the capital. In the Bronze Whistle, Emilia beats her fist against the table.

“The mist rises and spits drowned bodies onto the shore. Right at the Undead Queen’s feet.”

Mathilde leans forward, her arms around a cup of wine. “They say the corpses were torn apart. Skinned. Aged by years when they had sailed only days before.”

“It is another sign,” says Emilia.

“It’s rubbish,” says Jules. “Fishers got caught up in the same squall, and sharks set upon the wreckage afterward. It’s a tragedy, to be sure. But it’s not a sign.”

“And what of the aging? The advanced decay?”

“Exaggeration and fear. Or simple misunderstanding. The sea can do strange things to a body. I’ve seen it myself, back home. And you should know it as well here so near the water.”

Emilia and Mathilde trade weary expressions, and Emilia pounds her fist again.

“Another sign or not, the time is right to move. Half of the people already consider Katharine to be an illegitimate queen, and the other half will say they do if only to get rid of another poisoner.”

“Half and half.” Jules snorts. “So she has no supporters, then? The whole island is on your side?”

“Even the mist is on our side,” says Emilia, and laughs. She looks to Mathilde. “It is time. It is finally time to begin.”

“Yes,” says Mathilde. “A call to arms.”

Both turn and stare at Jules expectantly. As if Jules would stand and shoulder a blade, give a rousing battle cry, and charge straight out of the tavern.