Lady Smoke (Ash Princess Trilogy #2)(52)

“That’s five languages,” S?ren says next to me. “I heard Astrean and Gorakian and Kotan. I think that was Tiavan and Lyrian as well.”

“Six,” Artemisia says, a bit smug. “You missed the Yoxian. I think I heard Manadolian as well, but it’s so close to Kotan that it’s difficult to tell them apart when everything’s being mixed together like that.”

“Those are all countries that have been conquered by Kalovaxia,” I say. “All countries who would have refugees here.”

I can’t help but think of how much Cress would love hearing about this. She’s always had an ear for languages and could teach herself a new one in a matter of months. Dissecting and analyzing a language made up of an array of different ones would be a party for her.

I push the thought of Cress aside and focus on Sandrin and the woman—Tallah? Was that her name or something in another language I didn’t understand?—who are now deep in a hushed conversation punctuated every few seconds with a glance in our direction.

“I only understand the Astrean,” I admit. “Does anyone know what they’re saying?”

Artemisia makes a humming noise under her breath. “I only have a passing understanding of most of the languages, but I believe they’re arguing over whether they should trust us or steal whatever food or valuables we have and send us on our way.”

“That’s encouraging,” I mutter under my breath. “Did we bring food?”

“Just lunch,” Heron says. “But I can wait another couple of hours to eat.”

My stomach grumbles in protest, but I ignore it and nod. “I can, too.”

The others agree, though we all know it won’t be enough. Lunch for five won’t do much to feed the thousands here.

I step toward Sandrin and the woman.

“We only have a little food, but you’re welcome to it,” I say in Astrean, making them both stop their arguing and look at me. “As for valuables, we have some coins and my dress, though I hope you won’t take that from me, since it would be difficult to explain its absence to King Etristo. If he learns I came here, he’ll prevent me from returning. I’d like to return and bring more food.”

They both stare at me for an uncomfortably long time before the woman lets out a loud, irritated sigh and says something to Sandrin again. Most of it is lost on me but I hear the Astrean word for child again. I open my mouth to protest, but before I can she starts back inside her house, beckoning us to follow.



* * *



—

The woman’s house is only a single room a quarter of the size of mine in the palace. There is a small stove in one corner, four threadbare mattresses on the floor, and next to nothing else. Somehow, though, there are six other people crammed into the space, three men and three women, all with shorn or braided hair and ragged clothes. Not one of them is wearing shoes, even though the ground is barely cleaner than it was outside.

The woman who led us in motions to me.

“Queen Theodosia of Astrea, come to be our savior,” she says, her Astrean passable but heavily accented.

There are some chuckles from the others, but I try not to let them bother me. I can’t blame them for seeing me as a naive, overambitious child, can I? It might not even be that far from the truth.

“King Etristo has invited me to stay in the palace as a guest,” I explain. “He hopes to find me a husband with armies to help us defeat the Kalovaxians and reclaim our home.”

There’s more laughter at that, though the loudest comes from Sandrin.

“Queens don’t marry,” he says. “Have you been among the barbarians so long that you’ve forgotten that?”

My face grows hot.

“Some traditions are difficult to keep in times of war,” I say, choosing my words carefully.

No matter how true the words might be, Sandrin still scoffs. “One might argue that it’s most important to keep traditions in the midst of difficulty.”

Annoyance prickles at my skin. I don’t want to marry either, but I’m certainly not doing so because it’s easy.

“If you have an army you’re hiding somewhere, I’d be happy to take it, but I doubt that’s the case. If you have another suggestion, by all means, I would love to hear it.”

That, at least, seems to silence them. Even Sandrin looks somewhat cowed. Unfortunately, no one actually offers a suggestion.

“I’d heard of the refugee camp here and I suppose I’d gotten it into my mind that I would find happy Astreans here, ones lucky enough to have escaped the Kaiser’s tyranny.”

“Tyranny is everywhere, Your Majesty,” Sandrin says quietly. “The Kalovaxians don’t own the concept.”

“That’s very philosophical.”

He shrugs. “So was I, before,” he admits, voice becoming thin and wistful. “People used to travel hundreds of miles to hear me lecture on philosophy.”

“You’re Sandrin the Wise,” Heron says suddenly. “My mother heard you speak once. She said your mind had been gilded by the gods.”

Sandrin gives a harrumph. “She wasn’t the only one,” he says. “Now I’m Sandrin the Elder of Astrea.” He gestures to the people gathered behind him. “These are my fellow Elders, one from every country here. We keep the peace and we do what we can to make things easier.”