Seeing Loana's disgusted and frightened expression wasn't the worst thing that had happened to me that day, but that didn't make me any less enraged.
"L-Lady Persie! -What...?"
"Shut up and give me that."
She had been sent to my room with a tray of bandages, scissors and ointment. She must have already imagined what she would find, but that had not prepared her for the sight of my raw palms. All my skin was up where Scilla's rod had torn it, and had remained so when she tired of punishing me and made me spend the whole morning in chains while she paced the clearing cursing intelligibly. I had uncovered the mirrors to continue the training without letting go, but when I connected with my magic, ready to kill her with it, I had found that, when the crystal my hair grayed and my eyes turned metallic, my hands were still imprisoned in the chains. Perhaps feeding it with my anger I could have gotten it to loosen, but my teacher covered the mirrors again before I could do so and made the recruits leave. Apparently, my workouts kept being abruptly interrupted by Scilla's angry outbursts.
In all that time I could not stop feeling the sting of the open wounds and how my blood slid down my wrists and dripped on the floor, but she had no intention of healing me at any time. So I spent those hours staring at the floor, imagining a thousand different ways to end her life and trying to ignore the pain. My imagination would occasionally wander and I would end up fleetingly thinking I was in a valley of silver mist with the Man of Dreams, and I even felt Lokih's hand stroking my cheek. In the end, that only made it more hellish.
When I returned to the house, Fyodor simply glanced at my hands before ordering me to go to my room.
With an abruptness that, truth be told, I needed at that moment, I snatched the tray from Loana's hands and cut the bandage myself.
"B-But... what happened?"
"I'll tell you what happened: they wanted to train me with a damn crazy woman."
"But..."
"Go away."
"Lady Persie, I can't..."
"Get out of here!!!"
The white light my eyes gave off was so powerful that it reflected in the maid's eyes, who fled without replying again. When she closed the door, I opened the jar of ointment and applied some to my palms. It stung like acid, but the last thing I needed was for them to become more infected than they already were. Once I finished applying it, I wrapped the bandages around my hands. I had practice, it wasn't the first time I had to take care of my wounds by myself.
Blood soon soiled the white bandages, and I couldn't take it anymore. My vision turned silver and, with a scream, I grabbed the jar of flowers on my bedside table and threw it against the wall. Not content with seeing it shattered on the floor, I threw the nightstand as well. The same thing happened to the chair, the circular table, the stool. When I hit the stool, I hurt my hands. I groaned in pain and fell to my knees, looking helplessly at my bandaged hands, the red spreading on the cloth and, before I knew it, a tear had already slipped from my still silver eye.
I had enough. That may have been an island, a rebellion that symbolized good and freedom, but the people who led it did not. They were hypocrites, cruel, heartless, phonies. My hatred for them and everything they stood for was beyond conceivable. It was bigger than myself, a secret as heavy as a huge rock that had been tied to my back for years and I had been dragging it out over and over again all that time. That secret was coming to light, revealing itself as inordinate darkness.
A second tear fell on the bandages on my outstretched hands, then a third. The ointment had helped, but the pain refused to go away. The last time I had been so badly hurt, so broken, had been....
I looked up suddenly as I was struck by a memory that, although not distant, seemed to me to be from years ago. I looked toward the dressing room, doubtful. All the articles of clothing I had kept in my old room had been moved to this one, except for my old uniforms, but my old dresses and warm cloaks were there, along with all my new dresses. It had been done by the mansion servants under the general's orders, but would they have bothered to rummage through the pockets?
I struggled to my feet and went into the dressing room. Yes, there at the back was my old clothes. There was even one particular garment that was not mine, but which I had obtained the last night Fyodor had beaten me. It was a black one, light as if woven of shadows and with a couple of pockets. I silently prayed to no god at all and reached into one of them. I smiled sadly as I pulled out a piece of paper on which I had scrawled, 'A drop is enough to ease the pain. L.'
The note crumpled as I squeezed it in my hand, ignoring the stinging of my wounds. I still remembered the confusion I had felt reading those words, that signature. It was a time when things were not sadder, but emptier. A time when I had no idea I was any different from anyone else, a time when I was still invisible, a time when I didn't raise my voice even when my adoptive father raised his hand against me. But at least back then I had a friend by my side, even if I was obliged to serve her. I was madly in love with the boy of my dreams, the love of my childhood and my youth, who seemed to me the sweetest, kindest and most attentive I could have found. All false, all of it. My former life had been nothing but a lie.
Deep down, I had begun to see it when a simultaneously irritating and sympathetic ethryn had made his way into my sad existence and opened my eyes to a dangerous and fascinating world that had been veiled from me since I was brought to this island, a brutal and harsh realm where, nevertheless, people were like me, like the person I wanted to be. That person was not the one Rodion had fallen in love with, if the one who had fallen in love with him. It was enough for him to give up on us that Fyodor and Aeneas ordered him to. I don't know what they would tell him that horrible night, maybe that what was between us was impossible, that I would go crazy and who knows what else. If they had told me to put him away, would I have obeyed? Persie probably would have, but now I was beginning to think I would have fought. I felt like fighting, fighting for me, for my freedom, for no more blood and sorrow, for the people I loved. It had taken me a while to realize that Lokih was part of that group.
When I imagined that ordeal without him, without his help, my world fell apart. I didn't understand how someone I had known for such a short time could care so much, when the people who had raised me did not. And yet, thinking about his sarcastic smile and sharp retorts no longer made me angry at all. On the contrary, while my head was spinning while chained in the clearing, I had heard his voice more than once. He was telling me, as usual, that he believed in me. He had done so unconditionally since we first met. All that time he had teased me, lied to me and saved me. When I thought love was warmth, he came to show me the fire.
I reached into the other pocket and took out the tiny crystalline bottle. Its contents, although colorless, reflected a yellowish light on the rest of the fabrics in the dressing room. I took the cap off and brought it to my nose. It smelled salty, like the sea. Tears that had come from the eyes of a supernatural being that I didn't even know existed until recently, like so many things that had had to be revealed to me about the place where I was born.
I removed the bandages I had just put on, holding back grimaces, and uncovered my scratches. The mere movement cost me at least a twinge of deep pain, and it did when I held the bottle, hesitant. A drop was enough to soothe the pain, but did I have to drink it or pour it on my wounds? If I was wrong, I would be wasting it. I hesitated, but with great care, I tilted the bottle and made a drop slip to my free hand. It burned at first, and I feared I had made a mistake until the warmth became a tingling that spread across my palm. Where the tears had moistened them, the sores slowly began to close, but only the ones the drop had touched. I checked the contents of the bottle, and realized that I probably wasn't going to have enough if I had to apply a drop to each one. I kept doing it on the most noticeable and deepest ones, but the others were still stinging and I had few left, so I decided to take a chance. I opened my lips and poured one of the last golden tears between them. The burning sensation spread down my throat, and then throughout my body.
The rest of the wounds I had not treated also closed, slower than the others but they began to do so. I even noticed that my exhaustion and my daze were relieved, the same sensation as when Lokih made me drink them I sighed with relief when the tingling ran through my skin, and I waited while the one on my palms recomposed itself, the pain not gone but still diminished. I pitied all those creatures that had to be hunted to fill those vials that the ethryn sold, but the truth is that they were truly miraculous.
As they began to heal, I put the bandages back on, even though they were full of stains from my blood. I couldn't let anyone find out that shortly after Scilla had torn my hands to shreds, they were intact again. I supposed I would have to follow the same procedure I had been following for thirteen years: lock myself in my room under the pretext of suffering from the false illness that so often assailed me, or else try to live a normal life in spite of everything.
Since the second would probably be the one that would irritate my enemies the most, I went for it.
I flexed both hands, and smiled as I felt no discomfort other than the stiffness of the newly healed skin. Since I had run out of tears, I had a pretext to visit Lokih soon so I could get more. However, I doubted that leaving the mansion that day would be a good idea.
I rummaged in the dressing room until I found my old gray gloves, which I put on to hide the bandages. I rang the bell to call Loana, who soon came in, shaking from head to toe.
"Yes, my lady?"
"Loana, inform them that I will not be having lunch with the family today. Have the food brought up to my room at noon."
The maid nodded, but, surprisingly, her expression conveyed what appeared to me to be compassion.
"Of course, my lady. Let me know if you need anything else."
With a bow, he left, closing the door behind him. I frowned. Yes, it's very easy to despise a witch until you realize that her skin tears as easily as yours. At least her reaction had not been one of indifference like the general's.
I stretched out on the bed and took out the Queen's diary again. I had already read a couple of passages, but I had already noticed that young Furya had written in her diary very occasionally, so much so that some entries were months apart. The one I was on now was the eleventh.
'I've already begun to tire of the walls of this cell. Deep down, I think spending time in here hasn't been entirely detrimental to me. I've been alone with my grief, truly alone for the first time in my life, as I have been since Mom died.
I'm not sure if that pain has made me stronger, but it has certainly changed me. What has made me stronger I would say has been the power. It has helped me get rid of all the layers of myself that imprisoned me until only Furya was left. The songs I have composed about the walls are lullabies that echo in my head and help me stay calm. I hum them over and over as I learn to control my powers, each time they become more precise and more submissive to me. Not only have I practiced using my reflection, but I have also gotten better at manipulating the crystal. I think the prison guards already know that it was me who left that trail of corpses when I left my cell, but they have no way to prove it. I didn't leave them any clues, after all. It was enough for me to wash my mirror when I got back to my cell. Bodies keep turning up from time to time. Whenever I notice one of the prisoners following me down an empty hallway or trying to harm me, I use my magic to kill them. It's happened more times than I'd like, but they've never gotten anything on me. I won't let anyone ever do that.
I think the wiser ones have chosen to leave me alone, because they too know that I am the one who has killed the others. I have heard it rumored that I am not human, but a demon with a female face who has come to torment them. I hope those rumors spread, so I will still have my own table in the canteen.
I'm determined to escape, although I think it's going to be harder than I thought. Luckily, I've heard that a prisoner who has been here for a few years has come up with a plan to get out, but he doesn't want to share it with anyone. If he doesn't agree, I plan to convince him the hard way. His name is Hienrrick Scrai, and he was locked up here for killing several men. I don't think he's too trustworthy, but I have my own methods of getting him to cooperate. Besides, it seems to me that he's already starting to receive threats from other prisoners to include them in his plan, so I'll have to make mine a little more forceful than the others.
I still haven't decided what I'm going to do when I get out. The Kraeman will hunt me down wherever I go. I guess I'll have to face them sooner or later, and, truth be told, I'm looking forward to it. I hate them, all of them.
Everything they stand for is a lie. They claim to have changed Ethryant for the better, they claim to have saved it from corruption, from evil, but they have not. I have lived it in my own flesh, I have spent years in hell. I have seen King Honir go to participate in the monster's festivities. Drinking with him, having fun for him. He could have saved Mama and he didn't because he didn't want to. Because he owed her too much to lift a finger against him.
I thought I learned a lot from my mother's stories. I liked the heroes in them, their goodness in spite of everything, their principles and values. I liked them a lot less when I realized that all that would always be out of my reach. I could not afford to do the right thing, nor could I afford to be good. I can't help others if I couldn't even help my mother. That still gnaws at me as intensely as it did when I saw her lying there with her eyes closed. I wonder if there is some place she went to on that night, if in that place she now speaks and smiles again. I would pray to all the gods necessary to make it happen.
I can't save anyone. Nothing I do will bring her back. But I can do something with all the anger she has provoked in me. I can punish the guilty, even if her killer is already dead. Deep down, I blame this entire realm, every corrupted soul of power that allowed things like what happened to her to be possible. I have no idea if this is what she would have wanted. I don't even know if she would still love me after seeing what her daughter has become. She will never answer those questions for me, so why ask them?
I don't believe in good. I don't believe in fairy tales. I don't believe in heroes, I don't believe in happy endings, I don't believe in justice. That's nonsense that I have to forget about. They are too simple to be applicable to this world. Deep down, fairy tales have taught me nothing. Loneliness, fear, magic and death have taught me things. I think in the end I got used to killing. I'm like the rest of the prisoners, I guess. Although when I have done it, it has been to defend myself from those who wanted to harm me. I think that makes a difference. But I'm also willing to ally myself with that murderer called Scrai just to get out of here. I don't care why he killed those people, whether he did it out of insanity, boredom, revenge or rage. His crimes are not what interests me, I only care that he is smart enough to come up with a decent escape plan.
Because I'm going to get out of here.'
That passage struck me as... immoral. But, of course, I shouldn't be surprised if it was the worst of the villains who had written it. It conveyed a surprisingly restrained pain, almost capable of the voice of a steely-hearted teenager uttering those words. The force in those pages was dark and bloody, it gripped me and wouldn't let me look away until the last inky line
Escape... a really tempting idea. I had thought too many times about running away from that horrible house, about sneaking away one night like I used to do and hiding somewhere. All those daydreams ended right at that point: I couldn't hide anywhere on that island. Both the general and the prince were in complete control of the Eastern and Western quarters, if I had ever in the last thirteen years tried to hide in either, they would have had no trouble finding me. Cavintosh was surrounded by a sea that was for me an impenetrable barrier. To sneak into one of the merchant ships that went to Ethryant from time to time had also crossed my mind. Sometimes I watched them greedily as I took walks around the harbor with Clariess, thinking of ascending the gangway and getting into the hold, or anywhere else where the crew couldn't find me. But if the Insurrection was still around after so many years it was because of their stealth. The ships were the only thing that could give away our existence, so control over them was absolute, there were thorough checks of each one before they left the ports. Intruders were simply inconceivable with such security.
I remembered clearly how, the night Lokih revealed his name to me, he offered me not to return to the Aursong house, to stay with him and Mun. At that time I had not been able to, and now I could even less. They had great power over me, but I was working on diminishing it. I was no longer staying there just because I had to, but because I wanted to. I wanted to figure out from there how to hurt them. I wanted to figure out how to destroy them, what were the weaknesses I could take advantage of and use them against him. It was a completely selfish thought, but I didn't care if the Insurrection lost one of its leaders if every one of my wounds was avenged. Besides, he was precisely preparing me to face Furya. He was going to provide me with my two revenges on a silver platter.
"Your back is bent, your leg is not straight and your arms look like twigs in the wind."
"Sorry, Mr. Adrell."
My dance instructor reminded me quite a bit of a Clariess storybook feeric being: diminutive, chubby, and with oddly glowing cheeks. Having my hands "raw" had saved me from another hellish meal with the Aursong, but not from my afternoon lessons. I had just come from an etiquette class given by Clariess' last governess, a serious woman not at all enthusiastic about her work, but at least she didn't go out of her way to criticize me. Apparently, my manners were too rigid.
Most likely Gracelie would have used her usual excuse of my illness to explain my not coming down for lunch. Just as well, because if I had been forced to do so, I wasn't quite sure what to do, eat completely normally or pretend that, under the gloves, I had excruciating wounds? I was glad I didn't have to decide that under the gaze of five Aursong. In any case, regardless of whatever Gracelie had said was wrong with me, I wasn't about to miss my dancing lesson. Adrell had never smiled at me and wouldn't let any of my failures pass, but at least he treated me the same as he had treated Clariess.
"That's not the posture, concentrate. Legs aligned, shoulders down."
I obeyed him as best I could, but, as usual, I wished there was a mirror in the classroom. And also, that the teacher was a little taller: the first time he mustered the courage to get close enough to me to practice with me, we found that he reached well below my shoulders.
"You have a dance at the Guntheron's in three days, and you seem to be out of practice."
"I've been busy."
For all response, Adrell, let out a faint 'Mmmm' as he glanced at his pocket watch that was moving me according to the correct rhythm.
"But you'll remember that I did pretty well on the last one."
"That is true."
I smiled, for, although I still seemed to frighten him, I did not dislike my surly teacher at all. I finished doing the steps he had taught me, and received a vague nod of congratulations from him.
"You learn quickly."
"Thank you, Mr. Adrell."
"Again, with more precision. Try to..."
They knocked on the door three times, and after a moment of decorous waiting, a person I had had the privilege of not seeing for a couple of days came in: Prince Eneas.
"My beloved Persie, long time no see."
"Your Excellency. It's been less than a week," I replied, forcing a smile.
"It's been too long since I've been able to look at your face. Good evening, sir..."
"Adrell, your highness."
"That's right, Adrell. Well, I know who to thank for the wonderful evenings I've been able to spend with my talented fiancée. You've taught her well."
"I do what I can, your highness," said the professor, smiling a tiny smile. The prince nodded and turned to me.
"How was your day, Persie? I heard it was a tough training session."
Of course, I couldn't have come for anything else.
"Nothing I couldn't handle, Your Excellency," I replied, the smile wavering at the corners of my mouth.
"I am sure of it."
His smile was as unbearable as the first time I saw it, so twisted and perfect. She took joy in my suffering and had never hidden it, at least not from me.
"Mr. Adrell, how about a demonstration? Since Lady Persie and I will be dancing together in a couple of days, I'd like to know what to expect."
"Of course, your highness! You have a most talented fiancée."
I swallowed as my teacher held up his pocket watch and began to set the rhythm. I moved into the position he had taught me earlier, with my back to the prince, and began to move to the rhythm of the watch as best I could. However, it was much more difficult with Eneas' gaze glued to the back of my neck, almost being able to feel his look of disguised contempt. I tried to keep my mind cool and think only of my own movements, but the nagging shards of rage kept poking into my thoughts until they made me lose my concentration and stumble. I didn't turn around to look at him, as I didn't want him to see that my cheeks were burning.
"I think Persie has become nervous, your highness," Adrell immediately excused me, his tone also indicating embarrassment.
"Don't worry, Mr. Adrell, it is clear that my presence has caused you difficulties. May I make it up to you?"
I only turned around when I heard him approach me, and saw him reaching out to me.
"I'm sure you'll find it much easier to learn with a companion."
Dance classes were the best part of my day, and that bastard intended to spoil even that. I just glared at him, with no intention of taking his proffered hand, until my teacher caught my eye:
"Persie, accept his highness's hand."
"I don't think I'm ready to practice this choreography accompanied."
"You are most talented, Persie," replied Eneas.
"Then maybe you're the one who's not ready." I whispered, to which he clicked his tongue dismissively.
"I think I am, judging by what I've just seen."
"Your Highness, I think it won't be long before you realize that you haven't seen anything," I said, this time without referring to the dance at all. He understood, because I noticed a vein in his jaw tighten.
"I can't wait to see it."
I nodded, and took his hand, as he placed a hand on my waist just as he had done at the last dance I had had to accompany him to.
"Whenever you wish, Mr. Adrell."
The perplexed professor blinked several times before clearing his throat.
"Of course. One, two, three..."
I was the first to take a step, I wanted to be the one to carry the rhythm and Eneas granted it to me. With a companion making all those movements was much easier, and even though on that occasion he was not looking at the back of my neck, but directly into my eyes with that kind look with imperceptible somber cracks, I did not stumble. My improvement was noticeable, so the prince raised his chin with a sour gesture curving his lips. I mimicked his gesture, aware that my every move was being graceful and correct. I stopped fixing my gaze on Eneas' brown eyes as my mind went elsewhere, to a corner of my inner self where a fierce, burning darkness flowed as I danced. It spread beneath my skin, leaving a cold, stinging sensation in its wake. For a moment, I wandered and the image came to mind of a future Queen locked in an ethryn prison whose inner beast emerged at times as she learned to control an inordinate, primal power.
My magic flashed inside me as Eneas spun me around on myself, and I knew my eyes were about to take on that silver hue I'd grown accustomed to, so as soon as I was back in front of him, I swallowed my pride and lowered my head and eyelids so he wouldn't notice. I breathed in and tried to keep it under control, so, with a hum of resignation, my magic returned to its hiding place and that wonderful adrenaline withdrew with it.
"When we reign in Ethryant we will give some magnificent balls," Eneas decided when I looked up again.
"You assume that you will one day reign in Ethryant."
"It's my birthright, so of course I'll do it. You're the one who can't assume anything."
"Being your fiancée doesn't give me any right to do so?"
"You ask a lot of questions for which there is no kind answer."
"Make it up, aren't you great at that?"
He raised a jet eyebrow in disgust.
"What a pity, and I thought Scilla had taught you manners. "
I gritted my teeth as hard as I could.
"You know what she's not teaching me? Magic."
"Again, complaining, Persie, as if you didn't realize that your situation could be much, much worse."
I moved a little closer to him so Adrell wouldn't hear us.
"You know what happened this morning."
"Yes, and I'm rather surprised that Scilla has been slow to give vent to her hatred. I thought she'd start using that rod at the first training session with you, but I imagine you made quite a scene this morning."
"You knew she's nuts and wanted to hurt me, and yet you've sent me to her every day, let her train me and chain me?"
"Indeed. You understand that I'm not going to feel any sympathy for an unruly witch. Maybe I would if you would cooperate a little more, if you would make an effort to do the right thing, because you know that, as much as you don't like it, it is the right thing to do."
"None of this is the right thing to do, and it is you who should know that."
"What don't you think is right? The wild beasts in the shows get whipped to perform, and can't we give the worst of them a couple of scratches?"
If Adrell hadn't been in front of him, I would have spit on him.
"You disgust me."
"You are not one to judge. It is you who disgusts the whole island at this point, probably including your esteemed lover."
My cheeks lit up in such a way that I couldn't help it, but not because she had just referred to Rodion as my lover. I did it because, for an instant, I thought she was talking about Lokih.
"I'm afraid the general has convinced good old Rodion that the magic is affecting your reason, and he seems quite willing to believe it. Anything before he'll accept that you no longer love him."
"You can no longer use Rodion to harm me."
"You're right, I've noticed that Scilla is much more forceful in that regard."
My eyes gleamed openly with steely light, and noticing this Eneas clutched the hand I was holding tighter, preventing me from yielding to the temptation to slap him.
"Mr. Adrell."
"Without a doubt, Persie has done an excellent job..."
"Would you mind leaving us alone for a moment?"
For a moment he gave the impression that the professor had something to object, but he chose to remain silent and left the room.
Eneas smiled a hideous smile and slowly removed the glove from my hand. I frowned deeply as the blood-spattered bandages came into view, and tensed when he brushed against them. I couldn't allow him to remove them under any circumstances, but luckily he didn't seem intent on doing so. Instead, he brought my bandaged palm up to his lips and licked the dark red drops. Disgusted, I pulled away, all to see him adopt a sinisterly satisfied expression. I wiped the saliva against the skirt of my dress, barely able to believe what I had just done.
"How dare you?"
"Even your blood betrays how impure you are."
"You are sick."
"I'm not. I am a hero, remember? I am the one who is destined to watch over the safety of all the people of this island, the heir to the most honorable of dynasties, the most respectable man in Cavintosh and an exemplary fiancé. I am the future, just and compassionate king of Ethryant."
"None of that is true."
"That's the point, Persie: it is. I may look bad to you, but I assure you that Queen Furya is a hundred times worse. Everything I have just mentioned to you is what people have extolled as a great truth, therefore it is true."
"But we both know better."
"What difference does it make if the rest of the world thinks otherwise? The truth is what the majority believes, if it's handled correctly. And that's what I am. A sick man? Who would dare to insinuate such a thing about their king?"
I put my glove back on, torn between anger at his words and relief that he hadn't tried to remove my bandages.
"You really like to call yourself the king, don't you? I'm sure Furya loves to call herself the Queen too, and I'm very much afraid she is the only one of the two of you with the right to do so. I don't see as much difference between you and her as you think there is, I know that in this war you are so impatient about there is no good side, and I am not interested in joining either of them. But I want you to remember this: the truth exists, it can only be hidden, not changed or destroyed, and sooner or later everyone will know it, me among them. I am going to find out everything you have been hiding from me, whether you like it or not. And remember also that the moment they call you king, they will call me queen, and I will act accordingly."
An eerie twitch threatened to twitch the prince's eyelid, and, when he smiled again, it was the first time it was evident that his smile was false.
"Queen? Such an unnecessary word. It has no more meaning than being the wife of a king, you cannot boast of it."
"I may not have it in this little paradise, but the place where you intend to rule has it, and that is another truth that cannot be eliminated. Your power may arouse admiration, but it is so meager that it will not succeed in frightening me, your Excellency. Adrell!"
The professor entered the room the instant I called him.
"Yes?"
"Your Highness seems satisfied with my results so far, your evaluation is over."
I made a gesture that the professor could not see, accompanied by a fleeting metallic flash in my eyes, which clearly indicated that it was time for him to leave. He twisted his expression in irritation, but that was enough for him to acknowledge defeat.
"Until our next dance, Persie."
"See you soon, Your Highness."
With a haughty gesture, he turned his back on me and walked away while Adrell alternated his gaze between him and me in deep bewilderment.
"Is everything...?"
"Let's get on with the lesson," I interrupted him, still staring at the door he had closed behind him. The teacher had as many questions as before, but he let it be, took out his pocket watch again and resumed the lesson. I was surprised that when he finished he told me that my technique had improved, as I had spent the hour the class lasted with my mind completely absent, just thinking about everything Eneas had just said and all the ways to get back at him, each one worse than the last. But one thought in particular would not leave me: at the end of the conversation, when I had managed to affect, I had seemed to perceive that the prince of the Insurrection had not the slightest intention of making me his queen.