A Girl in Black and White (Alyria 2)

“No,” Juliana said. “I want to know if the Princess has been courting anyone. You think she’s falling in love with that Untouchable Prince?”

“You mean the one who’s keeping her hostage until he gets the kings’ cooperation? That one?” Magdalena returned.

Juliana lifted a shoulder. “Sounds romantic to me.”

“Everything sounds romantic to you,” her adversary returned.

“You aren’t going to have any kids, nor a pledged who loves you if you keep up that suffragette nonsense.”

“I just merely think that a captor is not the right love match! What’s so ‘suffragette’ about that?”

I traced a crack in the table, ignoring how close that one hit home. “For Pete’s sake,” I sighed. “Just let her read it from the beginning.”

Some shouting from downstairs filtered into the room, and I wondered how much this new cook was fighting to make sure we ate meat. Grandmother never followed that rule. In fact, she slaughtered a chicken almost daily. There were a lot of questions I had for her when she chose to stoop so low as to honor me with her presence.

I’d learned that my grandmother became a High Sister after her husband passed. She spent years in a house like Agnes, until she’d gained enough freedom to do as she pleased. It was awfully strange imagining this when I thought she had always lived in Alger.

Sarai began reading the Princess and Queen’s schedule, of which seemed pretty normal even being ransomed: what they were wearing, what perfume they wore, what they ate. The real entertaining stuff.

I leaned on the table, barely listening to her prattle.

“. . . Princess Luciana of Aldova and the oldest Prince of Titan, Weston of House Wolfson . . .”

How mind-numbing this is. Symbia is the largest city in Alyria and this is all that—

What did she say?

It sounded suspiciously like—

“. . . a confirmed source has informed us they’ve spotted Princess Luciana and the Titan Prince at a pledging celebration less than a fortnight ago . . .”

I swallowed down my surprise. This happened every time I heard his damn name in these gossip rags. But I couldn’t stop the back of my neck from prickling with awareness as if he were in this room standing right behind my chair. I forced myself not to check. This was paranoia—I was quite aware. But when paranoia came in t

he form of Weston, it became acceptable.

“Ugh,” Juliana said. “Princess Luciana is a slut. Everyone knows it.”

Magdalena rolled her eyes. “She is not. And even if she is, who cares? Men get to be with as many women as they want and nobody calls them whores.”

“Men cannot control themselves in that regard. Why, they’d probably get sick if they stayed abstinent.”

Farah snorted from her spot beside me.

“I feel sorry for you, Juli. Your future pledged will run all over you,” Magdalena said.

Juliana pursed her lips. “Alis wouldn’t do that.”

Magdalena burst out laughing. “You can’t be serious! You’ve got no magic to speak of. He’ll have nothing to do with you. He’s going to pick Calamity.”

I sighed, hating this ‘pick’ business. Like he could just select me without my consent. Well, truthfully, he could with my mother’s approval.

“What nonsense,” Juli said. “She’s not even nice to him!”

I really wasn’t. But I couldn’t pay attention to them anymore because my mind wandered back to that stupid gossip rag. This wasn’t the first time I’d heard his name mentioned next to some woman’s, but it was the first time that suggested ‘courting.’ A hot spark burned in my chest.

Could he have gone any further in picking someone the complete opposite of me?

The answer—no.