Petra of the Shazastar is a thief on the run from an unforgettable past. But, like all thieves, her luck cannot last forever. When she is caught, she's given a choice: either face execution or become the fortune teller to the Mad Queen.
Not surpri...
"When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions".
- Hamlet (Act IV, Scene V).
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DO I HAVE ANY RIGHT to be angry? Do I have any right to feel this nauseating repulsion? Do I have any right towards Giovanni de Luca?
Yes.
My lips upon his, that night, that cold unforgettable night. The feel of him, the smell and sight. His eyes half-lidded with the same fierce want -- and yet he had rejected me. Although he wanted me just as badly, if not more so – he had rejected me. Coldly and unforgiving.
He rides in front of our carriage with his mysterious princessa, and it does nothing to ease the sinking feeling within my heart– white horse beside one the color of the deepest of nights.
The captain of the Florentian Guard and the Princessa of Ethban.
Of course I have no right.
I tear my gaze away and onto the city of Ethban – anything to avoid how well they fit each other; how as they ride down the streets of Ethban, they look the perfect image of king and queen.
If we were in Florentia, I would have wished that either he or Valentina fall in a water alleyway. Or perhaps I would jump in myself. Alas, no such alleyways existed in Ethban. Gone is the Florentian Sea, replaced by strange purple mountains that border Northern Ethban, while forest encircles the rest of the kingdom. Stucco buildings and cobblestone streets take place of gondolas and piazzas. No fat gondoliers serenade the breeze, only men on balconies playing their guitarras.
"Ethban displeases you?"
I do not look away from the window, my frowning reflection enough of an answer to the Queen. "In more ways than you can know."
She yawns loud and catlike. "They are a rather dull people."
"The princessa seems anything but." Even to my own ears, my tone is pathetically hurt.
"Valentina?" The queen asks, as if bewildered that I had even brought her up. I feel the Mad Queen's clammy hands upon my own and I am forced to look at her. That knowing look, the one I had seen once before appraises me – a clearness that is usually hidden behind delusion and confusion.
"She is not from the Shazastar!" She holds my hands even tighter, as if being from the Shazastar was more of an honor than being of royal heritage, as if it was greater than anything –
When in fact it is nothing more than a disgrace.
A curse.
If she only knew.
I fake a soft smile. "Not everyone believes in magic."
For Giovanni had wanted to have me executed. Giovanni would rather believe that I met with spies than the truth of the Zingari. Giovanni would never love me as I him, for he cannot see me for who I am. Would never accept me as I am.
