Of Whispers and Daggers ✓ [TLRQ #2]

Chapter 50 - Idyne

In the morning, Ladies sit around me, sipping hot sugar-water from their tea cups. No one mentions it's not tea.

I'm surprised I haven't yet felt the spell I cast on Alaar snap. It's been two weeks since I woke against the wall and stumbled back to my room in the shadowy dawn. The spell should be dragging on him, making him want to kill those shade-cursed shamans, but he has the will and wit of the Shadesnare himself—maybe he'll manage to hold off killing himself till the last second. A nasty bit of backlash that'll be for me, but it's worth it.

I daydream of blood and severed heads as the women around me chat. Whenever Alaar does finish, it's looking like I'll have a nice life here. Not long after offering High Lady Solitaena my insight on the Kadranians, she invited me to watch from the stands of nobility for future Auditorium meetings. Yes, these women seem to have quite nicely accepted me as one of them. I smile at the gossipers.

"—wedding was beautiful for being so rushed, don't you think?" High Lady Misanette says.

"Oh, Missí." A lower-tier Lady laughs. "You only say that because you organized it."

Misanette goes red. "No, no." The other Ladies chuckle as well. "I wasn't even in charge of this event. I just reminded Lady Osennia that the Second Son likes the chrysanthemums better than the holly."

I smile at her. "And I'm sure he would have been devastated if it hadn't been right."

Now even Misanette laughs. Everyone's in good spirits after the victory the day before yesterday. The reinforcements are near and the Retrans are coming.

Lady Osennia, the daughter of High Lady Riletta, grabs my wrist. "Did you see how beautiful the Princesse Consort was in one of our dresses?"

Gushing agreement rounds the room. Then the girl across from me says, "But did you see how pale the Prince was?"

Osennia pouts sympathetically. "He nearly looked sick."

The girl across from me continues, "And he fairly ran out of the final dance."

Hums of well-meaning, curious agreement.

My ankles cross. "You don't think he's catching ill, do you?"

Emmine, the woman that mocked Misanette, says, "I'm sure the boy was just nervous. My Alféndi nearly lost it right before our marriage just because his servants couldn't find the mate to the socks he wanted to wear." She laughs, but I'm already bored with her speech. "Sometimes in a big event like that, even something tiny can push us over the edge. For getting married so spur of the moment, I thought he composed himself rather well."

I wonder how Alaar is going to do it. Will he sneak into their tents one night and slit their throats? Will he get one of his precious little shades to fool the shamans into hurting themselves? Will he convince the Kadranians to execute them? The endless possibilities thrill me.