“What kind of grapes are these?” I call out, knowing Elisaf is on the other side, pacing. I hold my breath, hoping for an answer.
“The kind that grow on vines, Your Highness,” comes the composed response with the telltale lilt of humor.
I grin. “I’ve never had anything like them.” The entire bunch fits in the palm of my hand. The fruits are a deep bluish black, no bigger than jumbo blueberries, and sugary sweet. I have yet to find a seed on my tongue. If they’d served these at those high-society charity events and not slimy fish eggs, maybe I would have been more eager to sample the food.
“That you can recall.”
A flash of panic stirs in my gut. “Right. None that I can recall.” I need to guard my words better before I inadvertently talk of a life I’m not supposed to remember.
“They are a treat from Seacadore and highly sought after. We don’t often have them, as they spoil quickly once pulled from the vine. A shipment must have arrived at the port in the last day or so.”
“I’m surprised Corrin gave me any,” I say more to myself, studying my spoon. I spent the past hour with it wedged between my wrist and the cuff in my attempt to pry this magical shackle off and discover this affinity to water I’m said to have. But the cuff remains intact, my wrist is sore, and I imagine Corrin will have a lot to say about the utensil’s bent handle.
I work on straightening it while I listen to Elisaf’s hollow footsteps, deciding which angle to coax a conversation from him. “Hey, were you my guard before the attack?”
“No, you had your own escort, Your Highness.”
“Honestly, Elisaf, you can drop the formality. It’s just us.”
There’s a long pause and then, “As you wish.”
“What was I like?” I ask around a mouthful of grapes.
“I didn’t spend much time in your immediate presence.”
“But you must have heard something? Or seen something? I know you’re always watching. I can practically feel your eyes boring through the door.”
His chuckle is soft, relaxed. It’s a moment before he answers my other question. “You smiled a lot. All the time when Zander was near. You made him smile, as well.”
“That’s definitely changed.” I think the man’s face would crack if he strained his stony expression.
“Your hands were never far from each other when you were in the same room. You would take long walks through the gardens at night, and you’d cling to his arm and flirt the entire time. You did not care who saw you. You appeared truly smitten with Zander.”
I think of the long walks I’ve seen the courtesans take and of the couple on the bench beneath the floral tree today, and my cheeks burn. “I’m having a hard time picturing that.” Then again, all I have to do is recall that moment in the tower to remember there is another side to Zander. I note the ring of familiarity in the way Elisaf said his name. “You’re friends with him. The king.”
“We’ve known each other for many years. Yes.”
“How many?”
“Too many.” Elisaf’s voice is closer. He must be crouching. “And I suggest you save questions about the king for the king so that I am not flogged.”
“Does he do that a lot? Hand out punishments every time someone does something he doesn’t like?”
“You’ll have to ask him.”
Right.I’m sure that would go over well. “So, what else can you tell me about the other version of me? You know … evil Romeria.”
Another soft chuckle carries from the other side of the door. It’s been so long since anyone I’ve spoken to has laughed in a genuine manner. “She was highly agreeable. She went out of her way to show herself to be a supportive queen when the time came for King Eachann and Queen Esma to pass the kingdom on after the union, and she deferred to Zander’s opinion in all matters of the court.”
“Such as?”
I hear a soft thud against the door, Elisaf’s head leaning back, probably. “Such as matters relating to the laws that govern both mortals and immortals, and changes the mortals are desperate for.”
Mortals.“You mean humans?”
“Yes, Your Hi—” He catches himself. “Yes. And the few casters we have, of course. But mainly the humans.”
“And what changes are they asking for?”