“Watermelons,” Bitterblue said into the surface of her desk.

“Lady Queen?” said Thiel.

Bitterblue rubbed at the heavy braids wound around her head, then sat up. “I never knew there were watermelon patches in the city, Thiel. On my next yearly tour, may I see one?”

“We intend your next tour to coincide with your uncle’s visit this winter, Lady Queen. I’m no expert on watermelons, but I don’t believe they’re particularly impressive in January.”

“Could I go out on a tour now?”

“Lady Queen, it is the very middle of August. When do you imagine we could make time for such a thing in August?”

The sky all around this tower was the color of watermelon flesh. The tall clock against the wall ticked the evening away, and above her, through the glass ceiling, the light darkened to purple. One star shone. “Oh, Thiel,” Bitterblue said, sighing. “Go away, won’t you?”

“I will, Lady Queen,” said Thiel, “but first, I wish to discuss the matter of your marriage.”

“No.”

“You’re eighteen, Lady Queen, with no heir. A number of the six kings have sons yet unmarried, including two of your own cousins—”

“Thiel, if you start listing princes again, I’ll throw ink at you. If you so much as whisper the names of my cousins—”

“Lady Queen,” Thiel said, talking over her, completely unperturbed, “as little as I wish to upset you, this is a reality that must be faced. You’ve developed a fine rapport with your cousin Skye in the course of his ambassadorial visits. When King Ror comes this winter, he’ll probably bring Prince Skye with him. Between now and then, we’ll have to have this discussion.”

“We won’t,” Bitterblue said, clutching her pen hard. “There’s nothing to discuss.”

“We will,” said Thiel firmly.

If she looked closely enough, Bitterblue could make out the lines of healed scars on Thiel’s cheekbones. “There’s something I’d like to discuss,” she said. “Do you remember the time you came into my mother’s rooms to say something to my father that made him angry and he brought you downstairs through the hidden door? What did he do to you down there?”

It was as if she’d blown out a candle. He stood before her, tall, gaunt, and confused. Then even the confusion faded and the light went out of his eyes. He smoothed his impeccable shirtfront, staring down at it, tugging, as if tidiness mattered greatly in this moment. Then he bowed once, quietly; turned; and walked out of the room.

LEFT ALONE, BITTERBLUE shuffled papers, signed things, sneezed at the dust—tried, and failed, to talk herself out of a small shame. She’d done it on purpose. She’d known full well that he wouldn’t be able to bear her question. In fact, almost all of the men who worked in her offices, from her advisers to her ministers and clerks to her personal guard—those who had been Leck’s men—flinched away from direct reminders of the time of Leck’s reign—flinched away, or fell apart. It was the weapon she always used when one of them pushed her too far, for it was the only weapon she had that worked. She suspected that there’d be no more marriage talk for a while.