Page 5 of Water and Wild

“I tolerate politics,” he corrected. “Unlike you.”

“Bah, politics are for people who enjoy lying and being lied to.”

“Which is precisely why you’ll never be a politician,” Laeliana said with a shake of her head.

“And thank the stars for that.” Elyria winked at Kit as she stood. “I’m off to the training yard. There’s someone I want to check in on.” She moved toward the doorway, exchanging a glance with Evander before adding, “I’ll find you later, Kitty Kat.”

Laeliana turned to her daughter. “And I’m off to council shortly. Do try not to burn the place down in our absence, yes? Maybe you might even take this opportunity to, I don’t know, shower? Get dressed?”

Kit smiled sweetly at her mother before settling back against the settee, draping her forearm over her eyes to block out the light. “No promises, Mother, but I’ll see what I can do.”

Admittedly, Kit was feeling rather good about her life at the moment. She was having a productive day, really, having progressed from the drawing room to the sitting room. She’d even managed to shower and dress per the duchess’s wishes, something that made being spread across her mother’s favorite chaise, sipping from a goblet of her mother’s favorite honeyed wine feel rather deserved.

“Her Grace will flay you alive if she catches you drinking before midday, you realize.” Elyria’s melodic voice filtered into the room, and Kit turned to see her friend leaning against the doorframe, emerald eyes twinkling.

“What is it with you two and lurking in doorways?” Kit griped, though a grin was already spreading across her face. “Anyway, didn’t you hear? The morning star has emerged. Which means Her Grace is rather preoccupied with making arrangements for those who wish to travel to Luminaria, bear witness to the Arcane Crucible, all that sort of thing.” She took a long sip of wine. “Excellent timing, really. I think I’m safe from the wrath of Laeliana Ravenswing for the time being.”

“Your funeral.” Elyria shrugged before flopping down into a chair opposite Kit. “So, what’s the word around court regarding the Crucible, then? Do they think there’s actually a shot of someone winning the damn crown this time, or will we be stuck waiting another twenty-five years?”

“Who knows? A few notable champions from across Nyrundelle have thrown their proverbial hats in the ring. Ev seems skeptical, though.”

Elyria nodded, leaning forward to pluck the goblet of wine from Kit’s hands. “Hard not to be, with two Crucibles come and gone and nothing to show for it but dozens of grieving families and a couple weeks of pretty lights dancing in the sky.” She took a quick sip, then scowled when Kit immediately snatched her drink back.

“At least we have that to look forward to,” Kit mused.

Elyria hummed noncommittally, stretching her legs out in front of her as she settled deeper into the chair. “Oh, sure. The aurora’s gorgeous. A beautiful reminder of the glorified bloodbath that is the Arcane Crucible. Every cycle, a new set of champions go in, and every cycle, they don’t come out.”

Kit swirled the wine in her goblet, catching the roll of her own mismatched eyes—one green, one blue—in its mirrored surface. “Ever the optimist, aren’t you?”

Elyria flashed a smile that showed far too many teeth. “When you’ve crossed to this side of your second century of life, my darling, you can tell me just how optimistic you remain.”

“There’s nothing wrong with holding on to a bit of hope.”

Sighing, Elyria pulled at the strip of leather tied at the end of her braid, then raked her fingers through her hair. “Hope. Right.”

Something in her voice had Kit’s brow arching. “You sound particularly bitter today.”

Some emotion flickered over Elyria’s face, the light in her eyes dimming for the briefest moment.

“What’s going on?” Kit asked.

Elyria waved a dismissive hand, then reached for the wine again. “Oh, nothing. Still recovering from yesterday’s bout in the training ring.”

Kit pulled back so the goblet was out of Elyria’s reach and took a pointed sip. “Uh-huh. This have anything to do with you scurrying off this morning? What could possibly have happened during training that has you so desperate to steal the wine I rightfully stole first?”

Elyria scowled as Kit took another sip.

“Did you and my brother have a spat?” Kit gasped. “Did he finally make some grand romantic overture that made you cringe? Please tell me you turned him down nicely, at least.”

“Don’t be a brat.”

“Fine, then. Was Kerrigan being insufferable again?” Kit paused. “Or maybe it’s unrelated entirely? Have you . . . When’s the last time you heard from your father?”

Elyria snorted, the sound landing somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “No,” she said, shaking her head as though it was the most ludicrous notion she’d ever heard. “No, I have not heard from my father, nor would I entertain whatever it was he had to say to me, even if I had. And shockingly, no, Kerrigan wasn’t the problem either. I went to apologize to him, actually.”

Kit waited, her grasp on her goblet tightening.

Fingers drumming against the arm of the chair, Elyria finally admitted, “I lost control yesterday.”