“Threats to the Queen are not uncommon, as I’m sure you might have heard,” she explains. “With great power comes great violence, both from within and without.” Caro’s speech sounds taut—rehearsed. I wonder how many times she’s delivered it.

“Threats are dispatched without grief or conscience, and with complete discretion,” Caro continues quietly. “If you would like to serve us, you must understand this.”

I think the seriousness of her tone would strike fear into anyone’s heart, much less someone already harboring treasonous thoughts. I scarcely breathe, and hope my face doesn’t betray me. Luckily, Caro mistakes my emotion for something else and tries to give me a reassuring smile. I bow my head, suppressing a shiver. “I understand.”

“The same, of course, goes for Ina.” Now Caro’s words seem slower, as if she’s laboring over them. “If you serve her, we must be sure that you’ll protect her with your life.”

I nod. “I will.” Caro manages a weak smile.

The Queen considers me, then rises smoothly to her feet, towering over us. “We’ll soon see. Step forward, girl,” she says.

When I hesitate, Caro lays a hand on my shoulder, an unspoken prompt to move next to Ina. I swallow and take an uneasy step forward, though my knees are still trembling beneath my skirts. Ina glances at me, smiling encouragingly.

“We’re going to administer a loyalty test of sorts, Jules,” Caro says, stepping to the side of me. “To make sure you have the instinct for the position.”

“Anything you need—”

I stop when a movement ahead of me makes me look toward the Queen. She’s produced a knife from somewhere. In her hand, the blade gleams. I freeze in terror as she raises it behind her shoulder.

And throws it straight at Ina’s chest.

Silver flashes through the air.

Reflex bursts through my limbs. Faster than I can think, I move in front of Ina, sending up a plea to the Sorceress for time to slow, expecting any second to feel sharp metal biting into me.

But I feel nothing except for the double-time beating of my heart. Nothing comes. And nothing comes. For a second, I think I’ve done it—but when I open my eyes, my heart still loud in my ears, it’s Caro who stands with her arm out, fingers wrapped around the knife’s handle. She’s caught it only inches away from where it would have sunk into my chest. I marvel at her speed. Her chest rises with the effort of catching it, but only slightly.

I breathe out. A loyalty test. My life for Ina’s.

The Queen stares down at me, her face unreadable, as Caro returns the knife to her. I don’t know whether it’s my imagination or the chill of her words, but cold seems to emanate from her and settle into my own skin.

“Well done,” she says. “To you as well, Caro. I see you didn’t slip up this time.” When the Queen turns her gaze to me, Caro’s eyes flash with shame. “Remember that if you don’t protect Ina with your life, should any risk come to pass, your years will be forfeit.”

My mouth is dry as dust, but I swallow again and force myself to reply. “I understand, Your Majesty,” I say, stripping all emotion from my voice.

The ruler of Sempera settles back in her chair and nods, and the room seems to let out a breath. I hear Caro’s and Ina’s soft breathing, a swish of fabric as they move. As the Queen waves a hand to dismiss us, I turn to look at them. As one, they smile back at me, with something like gratitude—or pity—shining in their eyes.





16




The trunk of clothes deposited at the foot of my bed later that night, and the long red dress like Caro’s folded on top, is confirmation: I am to be in the Queen’s retinue as Ina’s new handmaiden. Ina offered to get me my own room near hers, but I didn’t want to leave Alia in the dormitories. I find the company of the others comforting, and I feel my father’s presence more here than in the silent, unfamiliar hallways that I visited today.

Now I’m closer than ever to the Queen and, I hope, closer to the meaning behind Papa’s warning. Which means that I am closer than ever to danger.

I lay one of the dresses out on my bed, and a group of girls hover around it as if it were a hearth fire. Some of their looks are envious, to be sure, but others are almost pitying. Alia reaches out a small hand to stroke the fabric of the skirt. She’s due to leave Everless for Crofton in a few days, so I resolve to smuggle one of the dresses away and alter it for a smaller girl, and bring it back for her when I return. But when will I return?

Bea notes, not uncheerfully, that the velvet-lined trunk is more luxurious than the servants’ beds.

“The green dress was supposed to be Addie’s,” a younger girl named Selena says, to no one in particular. “Never worn.” She’s apprenticed to the seamstress—she would know. The others shuffle off, leaving Selena’s words to tie a knot in my stomach.

I haven’t told anyone what happened when I met the Queen. I’m too afraid—both of the Queen herself, and that no one will believe me. I tell myself that it was just a test of my loyalty, that Ina was never at risk—how could anyone throw a knife at their own daughter, even if they know it will never strike?

My first task as a royal handmaiden, detailed in a note Caro pinned to the inside of the trunk, is to collect ice holly for Roan and Lady Gold’s wedding trellis. Though I’m disappointed that I’m not assigned to a task that would let me be near the Queen, I leave early from breakfast to put on one of the dresses and a thick cloak. I tame my hair as best I can and tuck it into my servant’s cap, then walk down to the gardens, which are nestled in the innermost courtyard at the heart of Everless.

The Gerlings keep these gardens jealously to themselves and their guests—I have to show Caro’s note to a guard at the door to gain entrance—so though I’ve glimpsed the garden through windows, I’ve never before walked along its pristine, mosaic pathways. The small, colored tiles of the path are smattered with snow. The flower beds are already bursting with roses and ivy, though winter is still holding strong against the onslaught of spring. I’ve heard the gardeners sprinkle the soil here with melted blood-iron, to make the flowers grow stronger and earlier and live longer. As grotesquely wasteful as the idea is, I can’t deny the beauty of the bloodred roses against the snow.

Footsteps sound from behind me. I glance over my shoulder and am shocked to see Roan walking my way, holding a cloak over his shoulders, his head bare and curls flying around his face in the soft wind. I have the sudden, urgent, intimate need to tell him to put on a hat. He smiles at me and speeds his steps until he’s by my side.

“I’d hoped to encounter you again,” he says, giving my clothes an approving once-over. “I thought Liam might have thrown you in the dungeons or made you polish his shoes or some other awful thing.”

“I’m a royal maid now.” I dip my head. “Thank you again for your help.”