Daughters of Ruin by K. D. Castner Read Free Book Online Page B

of turning her back to him. Rhea always suspected that Cadis could have him if she wanted.
    â€œAll right. To bed with all of you,” said Marta, clapping her hands.
    Iren continued to gather her glasswork into the oilcloth, and that was signal enough for all of them to disperse. Suki griped and demanded a kiss on the cheek from Endrit, who obliged.
    Cadis marched straight to her room. The precaution for their personal safety was still a personal insult, apparently.
    Endrit slung his arm around his mother as if she were another sister and leaned down to kiss her sincerely on the temple. As he walked Marta out, he said over his shoulder, “Good night, my queens,” as a jester might say it, with too much gravitas, to make it sound foolish.
    Suki chirped, “Good night!” and ran off, leaving Rhea and Iren sitting across from each other at the oaken round table.
    Iren collected her glass-cutting tools in silence. Rhea sat for a short while, listening to her heart, still pounding from her training.
    Rhea suddenly felt the overwhelming desire for a sister—a true sister—in whom she could confide, one whose only loyalty was to her, and not the others. She wished she could tell Iren about her training and ask if Iren felt as she did about Endrit in moments of such intense and terrifying desire that she imagined herself pinning him down, kissing him, pressing herself to him, but found herself at a loss for what to do after.
    The image would turn murky and dreamlike. Rhea would feel embarrassed, as if Endrit could tell that she was childlike and ill versed in the details of love.
    When they were younger, Iren had showed them an illuminated page from the poems of the ribald monk Hakan. In the corner, a couple sat entwined, one kissing the other’s nape, the other openmouthed like a baby bird, begging the gods to transfix them, just as they were, onto the parchment of a book, so that they could remain in their embrace forever.
    The girls had giggled at the lewd painting and teased one another.
    Cadis had elbowed Suki and said, “That’ll be you and Cooky Cogburn,” the greasy old kitchen master.
    â€œNo! Akh . I wanna be the girl who rides the gryphon across the sea,” she’d said, pointing to another illuminated page.
    That was a particularly nice memory for Rhea, a time when they were four sisters sneaking together—not three and the king’s daughter.
    â€œSomething wrong?” said Iren.
    Rhea returned from her memory to the table, the central chamber, midnight before the Revels Ten. The candles guttering outside. The guards clapping their heels on the stone.
    â€œNo,” she said.
    â€œYou were staring at me,” said Iren.
    â€œSorry,” said Rhea.
    â€œNervous?”
    â€œNo,” said Rhea. She hated them to know her weaknesses.
    â€œWe could have Cooky send up mulled cocoa.”
    â€œNo, thanks,” said Rhea, smiling at the coincidence of old Cogburn in her musing.
    â€œAfter the last time, it’s natural to be nervous,” said Iren. She paused from her packing to look up. It wasn’t a warm expression, but it might have been the best Iren could muster. Only she could be so blunt in her caregiving. Rhea didn’t respond.
    â€œYou missed one,” said Iren. She pointed with a glass grinder at Rhea’s left ear. Rhea reached up and felt a hairpin still in her hair.
    â€œThanks,” she said. Will I forever feel like the sloppy pig slumped before the emira of Corent?
    â€œI was serious about speaking to the king about admitting Endrit,” said Rhea. Iren stacked the glass pieces from largest to smallest, arranged by color.
    Finally, she said, “Ismata, go kiss the future queen.”
    The shinhound sprang around the table and licked Rhea’s outraised palms. Rhea laughed. It felt wonderful to laugh. It was a small gesture, but Iren’s favor came in tiny doses, and Rhea was relieved to have