The Black Queen (Book 6) by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

was flowing free. She wrapped it into a bun and held it in place with gold and black painted L’Nacin sticks. Then she slipped her feet into sandals made here on Blue Isle, hating the feel of shoes against her skin. She had always hated shoes, but she wore them now. The birthmark on the base of her chin marked her as a Shape-Shifter, and the golden color of her skin marked her as part-Islander. She didn’t need other things, like her preference for bare feet, to set her apart from the people she ruled. They had enough trouble with her unusual attitudes without being reminded that she had a slightly different heritage than all of them.
    Arianna opened the door to her room. A young Islander page stood outside, his simple brown clothing marking his lowly status. He bowed when he saw her.
    “Get the Islander merchants back in my audience chamber,” she said, “and apologize for the abrupt end to our meeting. Tell them I will join them shortly.”
    The page nodded and started down the hall.
    “I haven’t dismissed you yet,” Arianna said.
    The boy froze, his back rigid. He couldn’t have been more than twelve, and he was probably terrified to work in the palace. Still, he had to learn protocol.
    “Is my brother in his rooms?”
    The page swallowed visibly. He bowed again. “No, ma’am. He left his rooms a few moments ago. I believe he was going to the gardens.”
    Of course. Sebastian’s favorite place on the entire Isle. Arianna placed her hand on the page’s shoulder.
    “Thank you,” she said to him. “Now you may go.”
    He started to run, then remembered himself and slowed down. He headed for the stairs, toward the royal portraits of all the past Islander rulers, and looked up as he did so. He seemed started by all those round blondes facing him. Arianna was nothing like them.
    She suppressed a smile. As a child, she used to stand before those portraits and wonder how she fit in. She had hated how different she looked. Now she looked at her own portrait and saw how she did fit. Her long narrow face and angular features were a heritage from her mother, but the roundness to her cheeks and her expression came from her father. She also saw, in that portrait, what people had remarked on since Gift came into her life years ago: that she and her natural born brother were male and female sides to the same face. Outside of identical twins, she had never seen two people who looked more alike. Not even Gift and the man who literally had been modeled after him, Sebastian.
    Arianna went to the end of the corridor and peered out the bubbled glass window. The garden was barren except for the plants that remained green year-round. She saw them as splotches of color against the brown. Sebastian had to be down there somewhere.
    She turned, and almost collided with Seger.
    “For a woman who was concerned about her health,” Seger said, “you seem most energetic.”
    Arianna shrugged. “I’m happy to be feeling well.”
    Seger grunted as if she didn’t quite believe her. Arianna wasn’t sure she believed herself. She used to have this kind of energy as a young woman. Since she ruled the Fey, she couldn’t remember feeling this kind of buoyant joy.
    She grabbed her skirt in one hand, and hurried toward the stairs. Seger followed. Arianna took the shallow steps two at a time, something her personal guards had complained about. But the stairs were built for little short Islander legs, and she was one of the tallest of the Fey. She felt more comfortable going down the stairs in this way.
    She reached the ground floor, took a side corridor, and pushed open the double doors that led into the garden. The air was even cooler here than she expected, and smelled of freshly turned dirt. She would get the hem of her skirt filthy, but she didn’t care. She stood on the flagstone patio that one of her advisors had begged her to add so that she and Sebastian could hold an occasional meeting outside without ruining their clothes, and