Two Dark Reigns (Three Dark Crowns #3)(65)

Bree chuckles. “She was strong. The strongest I have ever seen. But she still couldn’t change the seasons.”

Katharine blows into her hands. Elemental Bree could stand outside all day, but the queen will soon need to go inside. Of all the gifts she borrows from the dead sisters, the elemental gift seems to be the weakest. Perhaps even they are loyal to the wonder of Mirabella. Or perhaps there were simply fewer elementals who lost.

“Katharine,” says Bree, dropping for the first time the formal address. “What do you wish of me?”

Katharine sighs and leads the way around the paved path back to the front of the house.

“The oracle will be brought to me any day now. I would know how the council seats from Rolanth feel about that.”

“I do not speak for the High Priestess. And I would not speak for Rho. But I think they would say they think it wise. You must know all you can if the rumors of the uprising are true.”

“And if they are, whose side will you take?” Katharine asks quickly.

“After the Ascension, there is only one side,” Bree replies, unrattled. “The queen’s side.”

“I thought you would blame me for what happened in Rolanth. Would you take the queen’s side, even against the mist? Against the Goddess?”

“Who is to say who is more of the Goddess? The line of the queens is her line, and it was the queens who gave us the mist. So . . .” She stops and shakes her head. “These are questions for a priestess. Where is Elizabeth when I need her?”

“I must admit I thought you might bring her along. You two are never far apart. But I will not hold you to these oaths, Bree Westwood. I know that whatever comes of this rebellion, the High Priestess will decide the allegiance of Rolanth.”

“Rolanth is not Luca’s lapdog. Nor is it mine. But for my part, I think you have grown into the crown very well. Better than I thought. It has been difficult, but I can’t imagine Mira—any queen doing better.”

They round the house, and Katharine signals for Bree’s horse.

“Is that all, my queen?”

“That is all.”

Bree glances up at the dark walls and windows. “Why are you really here instead of at the Volroy?”

“Just why I said. And also to retrieve something I will need for the oracle when she arrives.”

Bree turns and is helped into the saddle by a groom. Her horse snorts and dances in place.

“When she does arrive, you should question her before the whole council. The people will no doubt hear of it, and they like to know that the High Priestess has the ear of the crown.”

“I will consider it.”

Bree lifts a rein to wheel her horse back to the city. “There are plenty of poisons in the Volroy, are there not?”

Katharine smiles.

“Not like these.”

Not long after Bree leaves, Genevieve and Pietyr arrive, nearly at the same time though not together—Genevieve in a coach from the Volroy and Pietyr on horseback, coming to scour the Greavesdrake library for insights into the dead queens. Still, when Edmund, Natalia’s good and loyal butler, tells them that the queen is upstairs, both make their way to Natalia’s old study.

“Pietyr, Genevieve.” Katharine turns to greet them but only partway. Her arms remain inside the open doors of one of Natalia’s cabinets. “Is there news? Has the oracle been brought?”

“Not yet.” Genevieve comes into the room and runs her hand over Natalia’s favorite wingback chair.

“I do not know what is keeping them. The captain of the queensguard sent word that they arrested her nearly a week ago.”

“The weather in the mountains is bound to slow their progress.”

“You do not come in here often, do you, Genevieve?”

“No. Not often.”

“I can tell.” Katharine wrinkles her nose. “It smells musty. Perhaps Edmund could open the windows for an hour or so per day.”

Neither Genevieve nor Pietyr comment. They are so silent that Katharine turns around, thinking they have gone. But there they are. Standing beside Natalia’s old chair as if they are staring at her ghost seated in it.

“I wish she were here,” says Katharine.

“So do I.” Genevieve squeezes the leather. “I asked Rho Murtra what it was like to find that mainlander standing over her body. I asked what it felt like to kill him for it. Made her describe it to me in every detail. And still it was not enough.”

Her fingers dig deeper into the leather. “Leave it to the war priestess to carve him up. When poison was what he deserved. Someday, I will cross the sea and find his entire family. Poison them with something from the room here. Watch every last one of them kick and bleed from the eyes. His wife. His siblings. His children. And especially the suitor Billy Chatworth.”

“That would be a worthy errand,” Pietyr says quietly.

“Someday,” says Katharine. “But not today. Today, I would have you help me find a proper poison to loosen the oracle’s tongue.” She points to the cabinets she has not looked through yet, and the Arrons set to work.

“I do not know what you hope to learn.” Genevieve’s finger softly rattles a row of bottles. “I have met only two oracles before, but both had gifts so weak, they could hardly be called gifts at all. A few correct predictions, a hazy vision, all garbled with doublespeak.” She chews on her cheek. “If only there were a poison to sharpen one’s gift.”