Rosaliy

Rosaliy had not needed one more responsibility on her plate, but she could hardly say no to Alexander. Truth be told, she had just a little bit of a crush on him. In her defense, everyone did. He was practically perfect. She was even a touch envious of Drake that Alexander found him so intriguing. She was the opposite of interesting. She may have had a skewed perception after living in a palace where everyone was extraordinary, but even her revolution-minded parents were more interesting than she was.

At least Drake was willing to humor her blatant spying. That made fulfilling her obligation easier, although she was the wrong person for this job. After retrieving a platter loaded with enough food to keep a person occupied for sufficient time to be plied with questions, she took Drake to a nook in the Great Hall with the benefit of being in a sunny, public space with all the advantages of being hidden from prying eyes and ears by a curtain of flowering vine between two columns. He immediately settled into the spot completely hidden from the view of passersby but with the best vantage point into the Hall itself.

So far, she had discovered this Drake was a reasonably pleasant Baysellian who seemed happy to lounge on a quiet set of marble stairs and eat spiced pepper rolls by the plateful. Beyond that, she learned he was familiar with the desert which seemed notable. If she was skilled in the art of spying, she might have been able to press this topic in a sneaky way that would pull out information, but she was not skilled in the art of spying, and he would see through her. He was clearly not interested in talking about himself.

In lieu of actual facts, she took to guessing. Maybe he was involved in one of the Bayselle Castle riots a few years back. Queen Kat had been clear she would tolerate no violence at her neutral gathering, so maybe he was hiding his connections. Rosaliy eyed Drake as he finished off some crispy kale chips. He looked strong, like he could handle himself in a fight.

His face tightened—a flash of an expression that was a combination of quizzical and pained. She was staring. Now she was not just a poor detective, she was a rude poor detective. She had already broken her original promise. Drake was interesting.

"Am I keeping you?" she asked suddenly. "You must have something to do."

"Actually," he admitted, downing his third glass of cucumber water, "the more free time I have, the more of Cliff's speeches I have to listen to. You're doing me a favor."

She had a hard time believing that. "Do you work for him?"

A bemused smile crossed Drake's face. His neutral expression was devoid of emotion, and she liked the smile better. "I just came to make sure Cliff didn't get himself into trouble. The stretches between towns are crawling with bandits and the like. Getting himself into trouble here in a cushy guarded palace is all on him."

See, it seemed like he was talking about himself, but he was actually talking about Cliff. This Drake was tricky.

"I have a few friends like that," she mused. "Well, had, I guess. It's been a long time."

"Since...you've had friends?"

That did sound pathetic.

"Well, I still hear from them now and then," she defended her friendlessness, "but here I'm sort of, well...in between." How had this conversation shifted to being a heart-to-heart all about her? "There are Queen Kat and her family and such, and then there are all the students, and then there's...me."

Drake's expression was now tinged with some kind of pity.

"It's not sad," she objected, annoyed. "I'm very busy with the students, and I get to study magic with Athena and Issabeth."

He grabbed what must have been his eighteenth pepper roll. He was mainly picking at them in an absent way now. She felt sure Alexander would have had Drake half mapped by now.

He asked, "Why there aren't other Sorceresses your age around?"

"Because I was the first," she answered absently. How had this conversation gone so off track? "Kat showed up on my doorstep eight years ago and asked if I'd like to train at Crystal Palace."

"There has to be more of a story there," he said, propping his hand on his chin. "You're more interesting than you give yourself credit for."

"What I do is interesting," she admitted. "I'm not sure if that makes me interesting."

Honestly, she lived in a palace with a five-year-old who could melt walls and men who turned into horses every day. She was not even remotely magically unique.

"Hmm." He furrowed his brow, thinking that over. "Isn't what you do who you are?"

"A part, I suppose." She shrugged. "But one of the things we teach is that having magic doesn't define you. It's what you choose to do with the magic."

Drake took that in. "I like that." His guarded eyes and a calm demeanor were a frustrating shield to what he was really thinking.

"I don't normally talk about myself this much," she apologized.

"You should."

She tried to determine if he was genuine or purposefully shifting the conversation to her to avoid other topics, but she got avoided eye contact and a half smile in response. Maybe he was just shy.

"You're very good at not talking about yourself," she muttered.

He shrugged and popped a stuffed olive in his mouth.

Rosaliy officially gave up. She exhaled a breath, the stress of the day catching up to her. "Maybe I have just enough time to change before—"

"Rose," interrupted a loud voice across the hall. Her hidden nook was obviously not hidden enough. "There you are."

She winced involuntarily.

"Is there a smug-looking Baysellian behind me?" she whispered to Drake.

He tipped his head to catch a glimpse between two columns. "Yes, indeed."

"Has he actually seen me," she continued whispering, "or do I have time to hide?"

"He's seen you. I, however, might be able to escape," Drake offered.

His tone was teasing, but he did seem poised to flee.

"Don't you dare," she hissed. "If I'm stuck, you're stuck with me." Like a wild dog, running would just encourage Matias to follow her. She turned to catch sight of him across the Great Hall. He grinned and sauntered over in a way he clearly thought was charming.

Matias was one of Sorceress trainee Jadelynn's older brothers. The last time Rosaliy had the misfortune of seeing him was a few months back when he had dropped off Jadelynn for training. Sorceress arrival was Rosaliy's busiest time, and she had hardly noticed he was following her around until he decided to rise to the challenge of being ignored. He co-opted the kitchen staff into trapping her in a fancy dinner for two. The Crystal Palace staff dearly loved attempting to throw Rosaliy together with people her age, so they were happy to comply. She knew from experience their criteria for suitable men did not extend much past having a heartbeat and a respectable family, but even so, it was insulting for them to assume she might not have higher standards than Matias. He had been born a Baysellian prince, and despite being ousted from that cushy position eight years ago, he still behaved like if the world just knew better, it would revolve around him. After an entire, painful dinner, Rosaliy felt confident he would not remember one thing about her.

Matias' saunter hit a snag when he noticed Drake. Even his cocoa skin turned an amusing shade of burnt red.

"What are you doing here?" Matias accused Drake. Did Matias know Drake?

Drake showed none of the recognition, however, so maybe this was just Matias exhibiting some sort of twisted possessiveness. "Having lunch," was Drake's calm answer. He leaned his arm against the table, and suddenly he was what Rosaliy would describe as threatening. Funny, she had not found him intimidating before, but now he seemed like a coiled snake. The change was fascinating. Her urge to flee from Matias was tempered by her curiosity.

Matias' eyes flipped from Drake to Rosaliy and back again, like if he stared hard enough, one of them would morph into someone else. He opened his mouth a few times to speak, but nothing came out. "Do you know what he is?" Matias settled on.

Drake did not like that question. He flinched, just barely, before settling back to a forced nonchalance. Maybe Matias' presence was useful after all.

"You two know each other?" Rosaliy asked.

"Of course not," Matias bristled, recoiling from her words. "I know of him, but I would never associate with—" He huffed out a breath instead of finishing.

Rosaliy could not give him the pleasure of knowing more than she did about Drake, which was petty, but his information was biased anyway. "Knowing of" was not a substitute for knowing. As far as she was concerned, his snobbishness toward Drake was a huge mark in Drake's favor.

"Well, that works out well," she said cheerfully, "because we were just leaving."

Since Matias was blocking their exit to the Great Hall, she grabbed the platter and bolted up the marble stairs behind them instead. Drake was happy to follow. Matias watched them go with slightly bugged out eyes and a slack jaw.

"He's not going to appreciate that," Drake muttered when they were safely out of hearing distance.

"Well, he deserved it," she replied, leading them through a stuffed pantry and into the bustling kitchens permeated with the best smells of the four protectorates.

"I won't disagree, but you just made yourself an even bigger challenge," Drake pointed out.

"There's no winning with that man," she complained, setting the platter next to a large, soapy vat. "Who even thinks like that?"

The question was rhetorical, but she was interrupted by a soap-splattered man with pruny fingers. "Afternoon, Rose!" he said cheerfully. "I heard the prince of Bayselle was looking for you."

She didn't bother correcting him over the defunct title. "Thank you, Tomin," she sighed as he beamed and took the platter. Both the man and the tray were soon absorbed back into the rush of bodies keeping the busy palace running.

Drake had been tense, but he relaxed by the time they left the kitchen, clearly stopping a grin from taking over his face. "Matis is not your type?" he asked innocently.

"I'm not sure I have a type," she sniffed, "but he is the opposite of. Is he anyone's type?"

"He's quite popular back in Bayselle," Drake mused. "I'd say inexplicably so, but he does have a family fortune. You should think about it."

He was working doubly hard to swallow that grin now. All the threatening aura was gone now, like it had been a figment of her imagination.

"Don't push me," she teased, "or I'll go back and listen to all the lovely things he thinks he has to say about you."

That killed the grin, and she felt sorry for saying it.

"Do you make everyone you meet that angry?" she asked in an attempt at recovery.

"Just about," he agreed. "Arrogant, hot-tempered Baysellians especially."

At least she had learned one thing about him, just before she was going to have to set him free. She really had to change clothes.

Before she could do so, she was stopped in her tracks by a soft, "Rosaliy, there you are."

Queen Katyrinna was draped in violet robes the color of her eyes. Her gauzy layers flowed naturally over the bulge in her stomach. She was more regal than normal today—pinned hair with wispy raven curls strung with silver and pearls. Just for today, no one would have guessed she was more comfortable in secluded woods than a palace full of people.

Drake tensed, straightening like he was snapping to attention. He really was nervous around royalty.

"This is Drake from Bayselle," Rosaliy introduced. "High Queen Katyrinna."

"Nice to meet you," said Katyrinna, her eyes acknowledging him politely and then hovering on him, a questioning look flickering across her face.

Drake tipped his head politely, keeping his own eyes on the ground.

Kat never appreciated the formality of nervous guests, so she shifted her curiosity to a friendly smile. "I hope you feel welcome here."

"Thank you," was his inscrutably polite reply.

Rosaliy was unable to tell whether he felt welcome or interrogated. Perhaps Kat had better luck peeking into his shell, but if she did, she didn't show it.

Kat turned back to Rosaliy. "This morning..."

"Tansy was trying to turn a butter gourd into a carriage," Rosaliy explained.

"I should have guessed," Kat murmured. "Was anyone hurt?"

"No, of course not," Rosaliy assured her. "Just a mess. I had Tansy clean it up...mostly."

When Katryinna nodded, dark tendrils of hair brushed gently across her face. "I don't know what I would do without you, Rose."

Rosaliy beamed with pride. Kat treated her like an equal, but she was as starstruck around the beautiful queen as the first day they met.

Kat's pearl-adorned head swiveled to what appeared to be a goat-themed tapestry, but to what was actually something calling her attention from much further in the distance. "He's here." That woman was phenomenal at keeping track of people. Rosaliy would never be able to sense people with half the precision of the Naxturaen queen, partly because Kat was so much more powerful than Rosaliy, and partly because Kat found every person precious in a way no one else could. She could sniff out someone having a bad day in a heartbeat and had been known to drop everything to tend to the cut finger of a chef's assistant. In particular, Kat could see her favorite people coming from lengths away. A smile lit up the queen's face.

"Would you two fetch Alexander, please?" she asked, setting off with amazing speed for someone as pregnant as she was.

Apparently no changing would be happening.

"Maybe I could find my own way back to my rooms," Drake suggested. "To be out of the way."

Rosaliy would have gladly set the poor man free, but it was too late for him.

"I hear I've been summoned?" Alexander's voice interrupted her, closely followed by the man himself. Drake's exit was cut off.

"Back to where we all started," Rosaliy agreed.