The Diminished. Kaitlyn Sage Patterson
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I choked on my kaffe. This was news to me. My heart fluttered. What would Claes say? Did he know? There was no way Penelope would agree to the match, not when I’d spent the last year kissing her twin. Even the Queen had seen me kissing Claes. Never mind the fact that I had no desire to marry her. No desire to marry a woman at all. And why should I? Even as King, the heir to the throne would not necessarily be my heir, but the singleborn I deemed most suited to the role. Runa herself had never married, never had a child. She ruled the empire alone, and while I didn’t entirely understand why she’d chosen me out of all the singleborn, I didn’t think it was purely due to our close line of descent.
When my coughing fit subsided, I looked up to find Mother glaring at me.
“When was this decided?” I asked. I tried to keep my voice level.
Queen Runa laughed, ignoring me. “It’s a good match. She’s smart and will continue your good work with the estate with no great trouble. Poor Oswin would have been destitute without you. Poor man didn’t have a practical bone in his body.” She bit her lip, eyes softening. “My apologies, Myrella. I miss him so, as I’m sure you do.”
Mother nodded. “It has been exceedingly difficult, but we’ve made do.”
“The Suzerain think we should see Ambrose married within the next two years, and for once, I don’t disagree. It will lend him more weight with the nobility if they know he has a strong partner.”
I sputtered, “Excuse me?”
They ignored me.
“And the other matter?” Mother asked.
A muscle in the Queen’s jaw twitched. “Still safely in the hands of the temple. Magritte’s wisdom keep her.”
“Magritte keep who?” I blurted, knowing as soon as the question left my lips that I should’ve kept quiet.
There was no point in asking questions that wouldn’t be answered. It seemed like they were intentionally speaking in riddles, throwing out one incomprehensible statement after another in order to infuriate me. It wasn’t as though they didn’t know better. It wasn’t as though they weren’t the ones who’d taught me my manners, and here they were. Acting like I wasn’t even here.
The Queen waved her hand dismissively and shot Mother a look cold enough to freeze mulled wine. “No one you need ever worry about. Now, before you leave, I’ll have a chat with the tutors about the topics they’ll need to cover in Ambrose’s and Penelope’s curriculum. We’ll correspond soon about announcing the engagement and planning the wedding. Meanwhile, he should spend more time at court, and Penelope will be able to assist you in running the estate.”
The music died away in the great room. My mind raced, trying to process the last few minutes of conversation.
Queen Runa lumbered to her feet and replaced the crown on her head. “Time for toasts. Come along.” When she got to the door, she turned sharply. “You do have someone tasting for him, don’t you, Myrella?”
I looked at my mother, one eyebrow raised. My valet, Gunnar, was ostensibly my taster, but I rarely bothered with the pretense at home. It didn’t seem necessary.
“Of course,” Mother said.
At the same time, I replied, “Sort of.”
The Queen closed her eyes and inhaled deeply through her nose. “Not a drop, not a crumb passes his lips before a taster has sampled it. Not. A. Crumb. I will not lose my heir to something so easily preventable. Not after everything I’ve done to secure his place. Do you hear me?”
Mother bowed, her knees nearly dropping to the polished marble floor. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
They swept out of the chamber together, leaving me to wonder what, exactly, the Queen had contrived to make me the heir to the Alskad throne.
“The knotted, tangled cord that stretches between twins serves as both lifeline and tether. Your twin exists to be your counterweight, to balance you as you balance her.”
—from the Book of Rayleane, the Builder
“When my earth was rent apart by the mothers and fathers who came before, Dzallie spilled her fiery fury upon my land, already so broken by the shards of the moon. Steward this second chance well. Use and care well for my gifts, for you will find no mercy in my arms again.”
—from the Book of Tueber, the Earthbound
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