Moirai let out another laugh before raising her eyebrows further. It was surprising that there had been any skin on her forehead remaining to experience the ever-arching eyebrows, but somehow they’d climbed. If she managed to be any more surprised, her brows would disappear beneath her curls and join her crown.

“What do you think?” Moirai asked the chair.

Amaris flinched at the oddity. She shot a quick look over her shoulder to catch Malik’s attention, as the mop of his golden hair seemed a bit closer to the tilt of her chin. He did not meet her eyes.

Moirai raised a hand to her ear as if to better hear. Amaris blinked several times in an attempt to maintain her poise. Had the queen gone mad? Surely, there would have been word if a mad queen sat upon the throne. Even in Farehold, gossip had spread about the instability of the man who sat on Raascot’s throne. How had nothing been dispersed about the woman who spoke to furniture?

Raising her voice to its loudest, most regal bellow, the queen announced: “The crowned prince is quite right. He and I find it offensive that Uaimh Reev—a keep that has claimed neutrality for hundreds of years—comes into our kingdom and makes such accusations about our people and our intentions. What kind of peacekeeping is it, then, when you march into our throne room and defend the north from some offense invented by your reev? What sort of northern agenda have you truly come to press upon the good people of Farehold?”

The onlookers murmured their agreement.

Amaris knew she was supposed to keep her eyes on the queen, but they darted to Ash beside her. “What prince?” she breathed, barely a whisper.

His amber eyes widened with horror at her idiocy. Ash angled his head forward, using the barest of motions to gesture toward the throne. She was fumbling her dispatch, and they both knew it. Amaris was botching the mission. With the intensity of his urgency, Ash mouthed, “The crowned prince!”

Her eyes tore from her copper friend. She stared at the empty seat for a moment longer. The queen and all her courtiers watched Amaris expectantly. The inelegance of finding herself mute at the foot of Queen Moirai when an answer had been demanded of her was its own catastrophic failure of adherence to courtly standards. The expectant sounds of fidgeting silence of the courtiers around her pressed down on her. But she couldn’t speak. Not yet.

This wasn’t right.

Amaris dipped her chin again, doing her best to conceal the movement of her lips as she continued to angle her head toward Ash.