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“And what life did I ruin? Some concocted plan of my mother’s? Some insult to Ardora, created for cynical reasons?”
“Calix and I both knew what we were doing. Mestibes would be saved and Ardora would get the story they longed for!”
“You think you are what my polity longed for?” Zosime scoffed. “You think you could have sat your bony ass atop the throne of Ardora and served as our symbol of fertility and earthly toil?”
Old stings burned hot, coming in language blunter than she’d ever heard as a child. But rather than shame or that familiar embarrassment, she burned now with rage. Rage joined by the advice from Ms. Securia—that in Ardora, you had to give as good as you got!
“And you think that would’ve made him happy? Some big-titted cow? Are you too stupid to know that your brother is gay!”
Zosime shook her head. “Ardor save me. I thought you Mestibians were supposed to be the smart ones. You think I don’t know that Calix is gay? And he isn’t gay, actually. He likes both men and women but only feels romantic attraction toward men. What? Surprised? I realized his desires before he did. If it was up to me, he’d have found a man that makes his heart melt and gone public with it—damn the consequence! Ardora would come around to a display of true passion like that. Played right, he could be his honest self and still take the throne.”
The wind was knocked from Teigra. Calix had told her as much on the balcony of the Rose Rain Ball, hadn’t he? But in her rage, it had slipped her mind. “Then... why?”
“Are you really that thick? I didn’t tear you down in the hopes my brother would find someone more attractive. I did it in the hopes he would find someone more inspired.” Zosime clicked her tongue. “Your cousin may be a manipulative son of a bitch, but at least he burns with something. At least he has a fucking soul. At least he takes each day by the scruff of the neck and shakes it into submission. But not you.” The word was said with utter disgust. “Not you.”
“How... how can you be so cruel?” she stammered.
“Just look at yourself. You think you would have survived the coronet of oak? You would have been eaten alive, Tiggy. By my mother. By the Greens who dream of their own lineage. By the same ones who spoke fealty to my father when he was poisoned, but privately started jockeying. By the citizens who’d have turned against you as reliably as winter follows fall. How do you think it would have gone when you recoiled from the blows you weren’t strong enough to take?”
Teigra turned away, willing the tears not to come.
Zosime stepped forward. “Really, what was the hope in coming here? That you would shock me? That you would convince me that I’d made some awful mistake? I saved my future king from a loveless life with a damp, dead fish!” Zosime leaned right in close, till her lips were by Teigra’s ear. “And I saved my polity from the indignity of a pathetic, weak-willed, feeble queen!”
“I am not pathetic!”
Zosime smirked. “Then hit me.”
“What?”
“You heard! Hit me, Low Envoy. You called me out and I’ve just further insulted you. Just like I did at Palaestra Xiphos. A queen of Ardora would never tolerate such indignity. Even my hoplites wouldn’t take this. If I’d said these things to Elexis or Pikra, I’d have been knocked on my ass—damn my rank or my bloodline. And yet, here you stand, with your angry little face and your clenched-up rage. You want me to think you aren’t pathetic? Then hit me!”
Part of Teigra recoiled. It thought back to all the blows she’d endured at the hands of Mother. All the duties she’d undertaken on others’ behalfs, without ever fighting back or receiving a word of thanks. That part of her knew that Zosime was right. What could be more pathetic than her? What could be more weak-willed and undeserving of respect than her?
And yet, another part—newer and hungrier—vibrated with fury. She had made the plans with Calix when no one else had supported her. She’d run from the certainty of lifelong punishment, all to take a chance on a new life. And she’d come here! She’d snuck aboard a boat, she’d hidden for two days, and she’d confronted Zosime!
That pathetic girl? That weak-willed girl? She wouldn’t have done that!
And just as Zosime once again clicked her tongue in disgust, it happened.
Teigra punched her.
The blow was sweet. The strike was strong from years of stable labor. Zosime stumbled to the floor. And as she looked up, blood pouring from her nose, the surprise that Teigra had craved when she’d first emerged finally washed across the princess’s face.
Who’s pathetic now, bitch?
The shock didn’t last. The princess kipped up, somehow graceful despite a face smeared crimson. She grabbed Teigra by her sweat-ridden fabric and slammed her back against the hull.
Teigra braced for the punch in return.
Before it could land, there came a sickening scream from above deck.
86
AURELIUS
They returned to the palace on foot, Calix having sent his stallion away with a slap on the rump, saying he would find his way back to the villa. There would be no point in trying to enter on horseback anyway—it would have been impossible to squeeze through.
He had been part of several crowds since arriving in Ardora, and each had brought a different impression. There had been the casual atmosphere of the Ardoralia; the noble decadence of the Wax Crack; and the mad enthusiasm of the Black Night Festival, glimpsed from the speeding carriage. But as they approached the courtyard beyond the palace walls, the signing ceremony brought back an impression he’d only felt once before, while standing in the crowd at the Gipedo Thanatou of Kastro Machiton.
