I even learned that there was a customary greeting for me, as ruler of Ludania.
It was ridiculous of course; any greeting would be fine. Although I was glad to have been warned that in one queendom it was considered polite to spit at the queen’s feet, I supposed I’d have been taken aback if someone had spit at me without warning.
Still, there were lessons for every conceivable convention I’d need to follow at the summit, from table manners to how I sat in my chair—including the position of my hands on my lap—
to the order in which we were permitted to enter and exit a room.
None of it mattered to me. Not really. Except in the sense that it might get me what I wanted, and that not knowing these things might stand in the way of the goods and services I hoped to barter for my country. The alliances I hoped to forge in the event I might ever need to call upon another country for help.
In that sense, these were some of the most important lessons I’d ever learned. Some of the most valuable tools at my disposal.
Even better than my ability to decipher languages.
To make matters worse—and they had most definitely gotten worse than the never-ending tutorials—there were dozens of fittings to stand still for, something I hated almost as much as the daily riding lessons I was now subjected to.
I also knew that the train lines went only so far, and many of those, even within the borders of Ludania, were still under repair after years of revolutionary battles and sieges. Many a train line had been cut in order to tighten the rebels’ stranglehold on Sabara.
Which meant there would be times when our journey would be on horseback . . . an idea that made my skin prickle with gooseflesh.
The only things I could no longer manage were my fighting lessons with Zafir. My dreams of being a valiant warrior had gone up in smoke.
Now, even as I stood stock-still in front of the wide windows of the library, listening while Xander listed the queens I had the best chance of collaborating with, the ones with whom I had the most in common, every muscle in my body ached from the punishing lessons Sebastian had been subjecting me to.
Brook, whom I’d badgered into riding with me, seemed to feel none of what I did. In fact, I would have wagered she was enjoying herself.
I swear she liked the beasts.
It was so unfair.
“Charlie? Were you listening?” Xander’s tone was scolding, like one of the schoolteachers from the vendors’ school Brook and I had been forced to attend throughout our childhood, where Parshon was the only language we’d been permitted to speak.
“Of course I’m listening. You think I’m not paying attention? I know this is important.”
Challenge flashed in his eyes. “Then what did I say?”
Searching my memory, I struggled to recall some of the words I might have heard even after I’d stopped letting them register. “You said”—I stalled, thinking I couldn’t be too far off if I guessed it was something about a queen. Everything was about queens these days—“that Queen Langdon prefers the company of dogs over people.” I tried not to make it sound like a question, but there was no real conviction behind my words. Even Xander could hear that.
He smiled, and I felt a surge of pride. I wondered how in the world I’d managed to get it right when I’d barely heard him talking.
“I did say that,” he said slowly. Too slowly. He moved closer to me, circling like a predator about to go for the throat. I followed him with only my eyes, trying to keep my stiff neck in one place. “In fact, I believe it was yesterday that I said that,” he clarified, narrowing his gaze as he disappeared behind me, to where I could no longer see his derisive expression. When he came back around, back into my line of sight, he added, “And about Queen Hestia . . . not Langdon.” He sighed then. “Charlaina, please, this is serious.”
“Fine. I wasn’t listening. There’s too much; I’ll never learn it all in time.” I dropped my aching shoulders, tired of pretending. “I want Baxter back,” I whined. “At least he doesn’t yell at me when I get . . . tired.” I sagged bonelessly into one of the tapestry-upholstered chairs that was worth more than our entire home had been—probably more than our entire city block—when we’d lived in the west side of the Capitol, where most vendors dwelled. Or at least where they dwelled when the classes were still divided. Now they could live in any home, in any part of the city they chose. Their children were free to attend any school and make their own decisions about the clothing they wore, what they studied, and what they wanted to be when they grew up.
The possibilities for the people of Ludania were endless. It’s how I’d always wanted to live.
There was a rap on the door, and Zafir stepped inside.
“I’m sorry to barge in, Your Majesty. Word just came from the Capitol of another protest against the New Equality.”
I rose from my chair, exchanging a quick glance with Xander. Protesting wasn’t unusual, or even unlawful, under my rule. There had been several since the announcement that the class system was being abolished. “Was it violent?” I asked, wondering why Zafir felt the need to interrupt.
“Not particularly. But there were effigies burned during the gathering.”
“Effigies?” Xander asked, his eyes narrowing. “In whose likeness?”
But we both knew the answer to his question, even before Zafir’s voice came, filling the taut silence. “In yours, Your Majesty.”