The Scorched Throne

VII - Sadira

"Perhaps. You know," I say, lowering my voice even more. "Reporting our meeting to, say, my father, would be disastrous for quite a few of those schemes. Could you refrain?" The corner of his mouth quirks up.

"Anything for you, Duchess." The music swells, and he lifts me by the waist into the air with ease.

My breath catches. Just how it did at the briefing where he almost saw me, time seems to slow. I have no time to even thank him for the dance before I am back on the floor and the music slows to a stop. But I dip my head, he bows, and he disappears into the crowd. Nothing but a memory, and a fading whisper of heat on my skin.

-

When I arrive, I'm glad to see that the princess and I share an impeccable taste for clothes. She wears a cream-colored dress with a light skirt, long sleeves, and a set of golden pearls. They look like armor; wrapped to form a stiff, long collar around her neck and shoulders, draping in layers upon layers over her upper arms, drooping over her chest in scallops that reach her waist. The plain, warm colors complement her flawless skin. I've never seen anything like it.

"You look wonderful. Celis, I must start paying my jewelers more if it can get me pieces like that." We sit on the plush cushions set out on the balcony floor, with a direct view of the main garden. Snow falls in delicate flurries, dusting the white trees and plants like icing sugar.

"Pastry?" she asks. It's the first thing she's said to me. She knows me too well.

"Yes, yes, a thousand times yes." She hands me a warm apple pastry from the tiered stand between us. She seems to share my affinity for sweets, and we both sigh as we bite in.

"Tell me," I say. "Do you like baking? If I'm being honest, I don't remember too much of our exploits. It's been two years and more than that since we've spoken."

"Yes! I always used to bake with my mother as a child, but my father thinks it's too improper now." A wicked grin lights her face. "I like where this is going. Have you ever tried bahulu? It's divine. A Stele specialty."

Only a few minutes after we arrived we run off to the kitchens, our guards trailing unamused in our wake.

The Convergence kitchens remind me so much of ours that I can't help but be homesick for Celodia. The space is wide and well-lit. Brass pots and pans hang from the walls, and racks are suspended by thick rope.

Open shelves also line the walls, holding everything from sacks of vegetables to fiery spices to bags of sugar. I watch as Maia flits around the kitchen, her long, raven hair swinging as she shifts onto her toes to pull a bag from a high shelf. When it seems she has finally gathered all of the necessary ingredients, I move over to help.

"They're little sponge cakes, but tastier, and with a better shape," she explains as we measure out the flour, carefully spooning it into the cups as she showed me to keep it from packing too tight. "You can put whatever you'd like in the middle—chocolate, fruit, anything. Chocolate is the best in everything, though, so we should go with that."

I agree wholeheartedly. Despite how long it's been, we fall into a comfortable rhythm of work, like playing a song from muscle memory. By the time we're finished combining the ingredients and sliding the cakes into the oven, it feels as though we never were apart.

We move into a secluded corner of the kitchen where none can hear us, a small nook piled with simple pillows and walled in by a large window at our backs. As we wait, she finally brings up the subject I had been hoping she would not.

"So," Maia says. "Are we going to discuss that dance last night?"

I decide to feign ignorance. Unnaturally chipper, I respond, "It was lovely! Thank you for being my partner." She narrows her eyes at me.

"You know that isn't what I'm speaking of. That angel was rather handsome, was he not? You seemed to know him. And since we're back together again, you must tell me about him."

A small smile plays upon my lips, strengthening into a beaming grin. "All right. But I assume you already know to never tell a soul about any of this, upon pain of death?"

She scoffs in mock offense. "I know the rules. Remember, we used to gossip all the time as girls. I'm no amateur."

I tell her about Seneca, how we knew each other as children; our combat training, dance lessons, his training with my father. I even tell her about that night at the seamstress's shop and some of what he said during our dance. Telling someone about it feels like a weight being lifted off of my shoulders. I do not disclose the way I felt about him, except for a few of my grievances.

"As much as you say he's too cocky, or too arrogant, or too moody, I get the feeling you're interested in him, at the very least. It takes quite some observation to notice such things and remember them so vividly, doesn't it?"

"You know, you're supposed to agree with me that he's evil and not worth it and terrible."

She ignores me. "I mean, I saw the way you two were looking at each other and flying across the room during that dance. Hel, everyone did. It couldn't hurt to try and get to know him better, could it?" she asks.

"Yes. It most definitely could. He's a prick." I throw her a sidelong glance as I unfurl from my seat to check on the bahulu, deftly avoiding the subject. They smell divine, and I make pleading eyes at Maia.

Before I can even ask, she holds up a finger. "We can't eat them yet. They have to cool and crisp up a bit. It's worth the wait, I promise."

"You know, you never told me why you couldn't be with that handsome soldier. Is it because of one of your plans?"

I groan. "It's not an option right now. Something is brewing in Cela. Something strange and dark and absolutely reeking of blood magic. Something twisted and hungry.I need to focus on my people, not dalliances. Has Stele been experiencing anything similar?"

"Yes!" Thank the gods. "Something's off in Stele, too. Fewer animals in the forest when I'm hunting with my pack, in panther form." I'd almost forgotten—the ruling Rao tribe of Stele is made up of panther shifters. Maia's tribe. "Our artisans and scholars aren't getting enough supplies. Paper, wool, thread, gems, all of it. We've been forced to cut down even more trees because of it. I don't know what's happening, but I don't like it."

I nod my agreement. "I've been trying to figure out something, anything, for months now to no avail. All of my schemes..."

She melts back into her comfortable smile and it's like a worn-out sweater, comfortable and natural and familiar. "Gods, I remember how yours were eviler than mine when we were girls."

"They were not!" I protest, glad to change the subject. "Remember when you replaced the cook's salt with sugar? The nobles all choked on their lamb because of how disgusting it was."

"That was harmless. Remember when you told everyone that the poor House Fufia lordling pulled on your hair, then said you would only tell people it wasn't true if he convinced his father to give Cela a better trade deal on grain?"

"But that was for a good cause! I was only nine anyways, and that plan would have worked better if I had just blackmailed him into it instead. I did get that trade deal, though."

We laugh, and it feels like something I haven't done in forever.

But then, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It's like I can feel someone's footfalls resonating through the earth, fast approaching. Someone's coming, someone who shouldn't be here, someone who's a threat. I shove Maia down to the ground.

Something whooshes right past my ear, veering far to one side. Glass shatters. I dive on top of Maia as the window behind us breaks, trying to shield her from the glass. Fragments of it spray everywhere, and I squeeze my eyes shut to keep them out. Guards rush in, but too late.

The arrow found its mark. The archer is gone.