Three Dark Crowns by Kendare Blake Page B

mistress,” he says. “And shall I bring a cup for your guest?”
    She turns farther in her chair to see the figure waiting in the shadowy hall. She nods once, irritably, and her guest is shown in.
    â€œAfter thirty years here, you would think my own butler would know that I do not want guests after I clear my house,” Natalia says, and stands.
    â€œI was wondering where everyone had gone. Even the servants have become ghosts.”
    â€œI sent everyone away this morning.” She had grown tired of their faces. Their smug and accusing glares. “How are you, Pietyr?”
    Her nephew comes and kisses her cheek. Until the ball, it had been years since she had last seen him, the only son of her brother Christophe. He was a child when her brother had quit the council in favor of a life in the country. But he was no child any longer, and had grown up handsome.
    â€œI am well, Aunt Natalia,” he says.
    â€œTo what do I owe this visit? I thought you would be home by now, back in the country with my brother and Marguerite.”
    He frowns slightly at the mention of his stepmother’s name. Natalia does not blame him. Christophe’s first wife hadbeen far superior. She would have never turned him toward the temple.
    â€œThat is it precisely,” says Pietyr. “I am hoping you will tell me that I never have to return there.”
    He steps past her without waiting for an invitation and helps himself to a snifter of her tainted brandy. When he sees her aghast expression, he says, “I am sorry. Did you want one? I thought I heard you call for tea.”
    Natalia crosses her arms. She remembers now that Pietyr has always been her favorite of all her nephews and even her nieces. He is the only one with her high cheekbones and ice-blue eyes. He has her same serious mouth and her same nerve.
    â€œIf you do not intend to return to the country, then what do you intend to do? Do you want me to help you find some vocation in the capital?”
    â€œNo,” he says, and smiles. “I am hoping to stay here, with you. I want to help with the queen.”
    â€œYou were the one she danced with for so long,” Natalia says.
    â€œI was.”
    â€œAnd now you think you know what help she needs.”
    â€œI know she will need something,” he remarks. “I was outside this morning when you were poisoning her. I heard the screams.”
    â€œHer gift is stubbornly weak,” she says. “But it is coming along.”
    â€œOh? So you have seen improved immunities, then? Butis that due to her gift or due to your”—he lowers his voice—“practice?”
    â€œIt does not matter. She poisons very well.”
    â€œThat is good to hear.”
    But Natalia knows Katharine will need more than that. No Arron queen has ever had to face a rival as gifted as Mirabella. It has been generations since the island has seen a queen half so strong. Even in Indrid Down they whisper that each Arron queen is weaker than the last. They say that Nicola could be sickened with mushrooms, and Camille could not withstand snake venom. They say that Camille’s prowess with toxins was so lacking that Natalia had murdered her sisters for her.
    But what of it? The gift matters less and less. Crowns are no longer won, they are made, through politics and alliances. And no family on the island can navigate those waters better than the Arrons.
    â€œOf course, the Westwoods are still at our backs,” says Pietyr. “They think that Mirabella is chosen. That she is untouchable. But you and I know that if Mirabella rules, it will not be her ruling but the temple.”
    â€œYes,” Natalia says. “Since Luca began showing the Westwoods such favor, they have become wrapped around the High Priestess’s little finger.”
    The fools. But just because they are fools does not mean they are not a threat. If Mirabella wins the crown, she will use her right as queen to