Shadow Scale: A Companion to Seraphina(140)

My smile hardened. Truth from Jannoula made me just as suspicious as lies. Kiggs stepped up to lead me to the table; I let him take my arm, but kept one eye on Jannoula. She grinned like a fiend. She was up to something, but I did not discern what until I had a chance to really look at our breakfast. Amid a surprisingly simple spread of tea, rolls, and cheese sat a marzipan torte covered with plump blackberries.

That torte was the only thing I remembered about my twelfth birthday; I’d shared the taste with Jannoula. The sight of it brought a flood of memories: how she’d run rampant in my head; how she’d stolen, twisted, and lied; how Orma had saved me.

I glared at Jannoula; she smirked back.

“Blessed Jannoula told us you love blackberries,” said Glisselda.

“She’s too kind,” I managed to say.

Kiggs, to my right, handed me a flat parcel wrapped in linen, no bigger than the palm of my hand. “The thought is going to have to count for rather a lot, I fear,” he said. I tucked the gift into my sleeve; if Jannoula had picked it out, too, I didn’t want the royal cousins to see my expression when I opened it.

This was all her doing, some game she was playing with me, I was sure. The worst part, almost, was that Kiggs and Glisselda seemed perfectly themselves. I couldn’t see how far Jannoula had influenced them. No doubt it would be a nasty surprise when it surfaced, like finding a spider in your slipper. I couldn’t relax; that was when she’d hit me hardest.

Here I was with my two dearest friends, and I felt completely alone. To my left, Jannoula’s smile turned feline.

“I am grateful that there was time for this before the war comes to us,” she said, taking a knife to the torte at once, not bothering with the breakfast foods. “It is such a privilege to have gotten to know Your Majesties over these few weeks. We have much in common, and not merely that we all love Seraphina.” Jannoula patted my wrist with one hand, licking marzipan off her other thumb. “Although of course we do. Seraphina is very dear. She’s why we’re here this morning.”

Jannoula transferred a large piece of torte to her plate. “I feel especially blessed to have spent time with you this week, Prince Lucian,” she said, waving the tines of her fork at Kiggs. “What a joy it was to discuss theology and ethics with you, to learn that you value truth above all else. I admire that deeply.”

Kiggs, gazing at her rapturously from across the table, actually blushed. Was she glowing at him, too, or was flattery enough?

“Honesty is the cornerstone of friendship, don’t you think?” said Jannoula, looking at me and licking her blackberry-stained lips. “These two, of course, go well beyond friends. They’re cousins, raised together like siblings, and they’ll soon be married. It was their grandmother’s dearest wish.”

Kiggs became very busy slicing more cheese; Glisselda examined the bottom of her teacup. I watched Jannoula narrowly, still not gleaning her purpose.

“I think we four friends should strive to have no secrets from each other,” Jannoula said, and suddenly I understood the point of this charade.

In Porphyry, she’d seen Kiggs coming out of my room. She was going to extort some concession from me. I kicked her under the table. “We’re done,” I said through clenched teeth. “We can discuss what you—”

“You see,” said Jannoula, ignoring my kicks, “an awkward indiscretion has come to my attention. It would be best to clear the air so we can trust each other as we should.”

“Stop,” I snarled. “You win, but let’s talk about it in—”

“Someone has fallen in love with Seraphina,” she said, smiling awfully. “Confess—it’s good for the soul—and then we can all discuss it, openly and honestly.”

Kiggs clapped a hand to his mouth; he looked green. Glisselda, across the table from me, looked worse. She’d gone deathly white, and she swayed dizzily, as if she might fall out of her chair.

We had hurt her. She shouldn’t have had to learn the truth this way.

She pushed back from the table and fled deeper into her suite. Kiggs exchanged a glance with me, then rushed after her.

Jannoula shoved an enormous chunk of marzipan into her mouth and grinned.

“Why would you do that?” I cried, furious with her.

“For your birthday,” she said with her mouth full, a wicked spark in her eyes. “My gift to you: an understanding that everything you love is mine. Mine to spoil, mine to bestow.” She plucked blackberries off the torte, piling them in her left hand, and then rose to go. “Come, we’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”

“You have caused my friends Heaven knows what heartache!” I cried. “I’m not walking away from them like a villain.”

Jannoula clamped a hand on my arm and pulled me to my feet. She was stronger than she looked. “The amusing thing is,” she said, exhaling damp blackberry breath in my face, “you don’t know the half of it. I know them better than you do. I know so many things you can’t even imagine, Seraphina. I know the Loyalists will arrive sooner than anyone realizes, and that I could make St. Abaster’s Trap all by myself.”

Her words struck fear into my heart. This talk of making the trap by herself … had she learned what we were planning? I couldn’t tell. She made sure to leave plenty of doubt.

She marched me back to the Ard Tower. I didn’t resist—there wasn’t time. Jannoula swept me upstairs to the chapel, where the ityasaari lingered over their porridge.