The Diminished. Kaitlyn Sage Patterson
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require. Yet every time I come to stand outside this room and wait to be announced, I find myself desperately wishing for a quiet night in the peace and comfort of my rooms.”
I nodded, grateful that I wasn’t alone in that feeling. Before I could respond, she went on.
“It’s the meaningless, petty gossip that I find intolerable. Most of the people in that room have no idea that the seemingly scandalous behavior of a wealthy member of the nobility will have mind-bogglingly little effect on the struggles and triumphs of the greater population. Sometimes I wish that the first queens of the empire had quashed the ambitions of the noble class in the very beginning. It’s those most innocuous and seemingly necessary things that will do the most damage in the long run.” She paused and looked at me wearily. “There’s a lesson in there somewhere, Bo.”
Queen Runa took a deep breath, and before I could reply, she asked that I be announced. The butler called out my name and titles, and as I entered, I realized this was the last time I would hear the titles I’d been given at birth spoken into a room in just that way. In a couple of days, I would turn sixteen, the Queen would declare me her true and rightful heir, and all of my titles would change. When the room quieted, the butler blew a triplicate call on the long, twisting horn, a relic of some long-extinct animal, and announced the Queen.
Runa swept into the room, all smiles and cheerful greetings for the courtiers who approached her, the irritation of moments before washed from her face. It didn’t seem to matter at all that she loathed these kinds of events—she played along beautifully. Waiters swept through the crowd, offering the guests flutes of sparkling wine, snifters of ouzel and appetizers as complex and intricate as they were small. The long table was laid with gilt-edged dishes and gold-plated flatware. Exotic hothouse flowers overflowed from tall vases, and each place setting had no less than five matching crystal glasses.
I snagged a glass of sparkling wine from a passing waiter and searched the room for the brilliant blue of Claes’s jacket. Before I spotted him, Patrise and Lisette descended on me. They wore matching looks of predatory delight, and with them came a cloud of rich perfume. Patrise’s dark brown eyes were crinkled in amusement, his sepia skin bore almost no wrinkles and his black hair was perfectly arranged, as usual—I’d never seen a single lock out of place on his head. But where he was all languid grace, lithe muscle and smoldering looks through suggestively lowered lashes, even I could appreciate that Lisette’s beauty was sumptuous: all elegance and not a hint of the deceptive and brilliant political maneuvering that came so easily to her. Her tawny skin and auburn hair glowed like amber in the soft light of the sunlamps. Claes had often made a great point of reminding me that there wasn’t a man or woman at court who wasn’t entirely under Lisette’s sway.
“Darling Ambrose,” Lisette trilled. “How are you? We heard about the unfortunate incident at the park this afternoon. You must be terribly unsettled.”
Patrise laced an arm through mine and leaned in conspiratorially. “You don’t believe it was a coincidence, do you?”
“Isn’t it odd that Rylain hasn’t yet arrived for your party?” Lisette asked, sending me a look full of meaning. “We’ve always suspected that she was up to no good, haven’t we, Patrise?”
Spotting Claes, I squirmed out of their grasp, only barely managing to keep a civil tongue in the process. Of all the singleborn, Rylain was far and away my favorite, the one with whom I felt comfortable enough to be myself. She was a historian who’d devoted her life to researching the cataclysm and its fallout. She had visited our estates often when my father was still alive, and always brought with her huge numbers of books for my father and me. After my father’s death, Rylain had been a great comfort, always ready to lend a sympathetic ear.
I refused to give weight to Patrise and Lisette’s ridiculous accusations against her.
Well-meaning members of the gentry stopped me over and over as I tried to make my way across the crowded room. The questions on all of their lips were about the incident in the park that afternoon, and I had no answers for them. None at all. By the time I reached Claes, the butler had just announced that dinner was to be served. I laced a hand through his and leaned in close to whisper in his ear, my false smile beginning to make my cheeks and jaw ache.
“How is it that every soul in this room has heard about what happened this afternoon?”
Claes squeezed my hand. “It did take place in Esser Park, darling.”
“Do you know anything else? Was it an assassination attempt?”
“Bo, honestly. How often is there an incident with the diminished in Penby? Once a month? Twice? The Shriven wouldn’t have taken action had the violence been committed by anyone not diminished. It had to be a coincidence.”
The assumption didn’t sit right with me, but I wasn’t about to argue with Claes in the middle of a dinner in my honor. The guests were beginning to find their ways to their seats. I glanced over at the Queen, flanked by the singleborn of her generation—Zurienne, Olivar and Turshaw, all wearing matching expressions of mild annoyance. Runa eyed the seat to her right, the place of honor I was meant to occupy. I took a step in that direction, but Claes kept hold of my hand and leaned in once more.
“An attempt on the heir apparent’s life, so close to the ceremony? Think of the scandal such a thing might cause. It would look as though one of the other singleborn was so desperate to usurp your place that they would try anything. No one is that stupid.”
Claes dropped my hand, and I sat down to my last state dinner before I became the heir. But his words sat like lead in my belly, and for the first time in my life, I wasn’t quite sure if I trusted him or not.
VI
The tide was low and the fishing boats not yet in the water as I walked, shivering, into the sea. Though the weight of the whole ocean pushed me back toward the shore, I slogged through the icy water as fast as my legs would propel me. The wind whipped black curls loose from my braid and into my eyes, but I kept my focus on the red marker bobbing in the water and the salty musk of the ocean. Five more strides before I could dive.
I checked my knives, my nets, my ballasts. I tried to breathe deeply, to get ready. Focus, Vi, I thought. This cold summer morning would be the last time I dove for the temple, and glad as I was, I wanted the ocean to myself to say goodbye. I knew the memory of this last dive would stick to me like a barnacle I’d carry with me forever.
I wondered what Anchorite Lugine would say when I left. She’d be glad, more than likely. I certainly wouldn’t get the tearful goodbye that Sawny and Lily had been given.
Four more steps.
My feet slicked around smooth rocks and sank into the sand. The seawater was as gray as the clouds. Gray as my eyes. Scummy foam laced the tops of the tiny waves and lapped at my shoulders. The chill would cling beneath the waves for months yet, turning lips and fingertips blue after a few minutes. But not mine. Not anymore. Not after today.
Three more steps.
Something sleek and scaled slipped past my calf in the cold water, breaking my reverie. I shuddered. It didn’t matter that I’d spent most of my nearly sixteen years in this same harbor—until I got underwater, the unseen creatures that swam past my legs still set my teeth on edge. My oil-slicked body had grown almost used to the cold.
Two more steps.
One last time, I checked that my tools were securely tied to my belt. As I pulled my goggles into place, I started taking deep breaths. Today’s dive would be easier than usual, with the water low and the tide nearly imperceptible.
One more step.
I took a last, long breath and sank beneath the waves.
The sea was never silent. The hushing crush of the water, the clicks and squeals of the few hardy sea creatures and the soft thud of my heart finally drowned out my racing thoughts.