We walked through a hallway lined with portraits of women, all of them with golden hair and meadow-green eyes like my mother's. Elsie, and Jeanne were behind us at a deferential distance.
"What do you know about Yos?" I asked, still feeling a knot of unease in my stomach. Parson had seemed far too eager to offer his son for my court, and something about it didn't sit right with me.
"Ios."
"Whatever. What do you know about him?"
Luke paused, his hands clasped behind his back. "Sir Parson's son has been raised in another realm for most of his life. He only returned to Aleria a few days ago. I've never met him myself, but I hear he's a skilled warrior... and quite beautiful, if that matters to you." He glanced at me, his expression carefully neutral.
I shook my head. "It doesn't. I just find it strange that he arrives right when I do."
Luke nodded slowly, though he offered no further explanation. We walked on, passing more portraits, and I found myself drawn to the sight of another painting of my mother, this time wearing a gleaming tiara of diamonds and gold leaves.
"Why are there only women in these pictures?" I asked, gesturing toward the rows of regal faces. "Where are all the kings?"
Luke stopped beside me, his gaze resting on the portrait. "In Aleria, only women may rule. Men cannot hold the title of Principi." He paused. "That role has always belonged to the women of your family."
"But you're the king now, right?" I challenged, confused by the contradiction.
"No," Luke replied, his tone softer now. "I am simply the regent sovereign, holding the position until you take your rightful place." His gaze met mine. "As a man, I am unworthy to rule in Aleria."
I scoffed. "It's like Earth but in reverse. I don't see why it has to be so... strict."
He bowed his head slightly. "It is tradition, My Lady. I do not expect you to agree, but it is how we live."
We continued walking, and I felt the weight of what he was saying. I was stepping into a world of rules and expectations I barely understood.
"I'm going to need a crash course, aren't I?" I muttered, glancing at Luke as we walked.
"Yes, My Lady," Luke agreed, his expression softening slightly. "There are many things that may seem foreign to you, but they are important in navigating Alerian society and the temple's expectations. You are not just gathering husbands; you are gathering allies, and how you present yourself is critical."
"Tell me then," I said, desperate for information
He paused as if considering where to start. "For one, when in the presence of others, especially those of high station or the Consul, your veil must stay lowered. To lift it is a gesture of trust, of intimacy. In public, your face should remain covered."
I grimaced, remembering this already from what Elsie had said. "Great. So I have to wear this thing all the time then?"
"Until the Becoming, yes," he confirmed. "There are also rules about how you interact with men. Here, men are deferential, and while you may command them, you must keep a certain level of formality. Too much familiarity can lead to... misunderstandings."
I frowned. "Misunderstandings?"
"Yes. Casual conversation or any physical contact with a man outside your court could be seen as an invitation," he explained carefully. "If you're too friendly, it might suggest he is to join your household as a consort or concubine."
My eyes widened. "So, if I'm too nice to someone, I might have to make them my... concubine?"
Luke gave a slight nod. "Yes. It would be expected to save faceâfor both you and him."
"Got it. No high-fives with strange guys."
Luke's lips twitched as if holding back a smile. "Exactly. Your power lies in how others see you, My Lady. Every word, every gesture is noted."
"There's also the temple," he added, his tone more serious now. "As Elect, your connection to the temple is sacred, but it means your every move will be watched closely. The priestesses will expect perfection, especially during ceremonies."
"And if I mess up?" I asked, my chest tightening.
Luke nodded, his gaze kind. "The Consul, the temple, and the public will all look for reasons to question your legitimacy. But you don't have to face it alone. Your court will support you, especially in the trials."
I blew out a breath. This was more than just politics; it was a balancing act. "Anything else I should worry about?"
Luke nodded. "There are many customs, like how to greet members of the Consul, what to wear in certain ceremonies, how to address rival Elects."
He gave me a careful look. "I must reiterate that physical contact with others should be limited - unless through ritual."
"Right, we covered that." Then I blinked. "Wait, ritual?"
"Tests to measure your purity, strength, and loyalty," he replied. "Your court's role is critical. The temple has rituals where you'll need their help. Some of the rituals may require... close participation. This is where you might find yourself in danger of having to accept an unfavorable ally to your court."
I wanted to ask what these rituals would entail and if it meant I might be adding to my court because of them, but I was also afraid to find out. "Sounds like I'll be walking through a minefield."
Luke gave a grave nod. "You will, My Lady. But I will be at your side to guide you. The path is dangerous, but if you can navigate it, you will not only surviveâyou will thrive as Principi."
I sighed. "Anything else I should know before I accidentally offend half the court?"
"There is quite a lot," he replied, looking directly at me. "Especially given your... time away from Aleria."
I frowned, feeling my stomach twist. I knew what he was implying. I'd spent years pretending to be someone else, a boy no less, and now I had to figure out how to act like the queen of this foreign, matriarchal society. "So, what? I'm doing it wrong already?"
Jeanne piped up, her voice soft but cheerful, trying to ease the tension. "Not wrong, My Lady. Just... different."
I glanced at her, and despite her kind tone, I could tell there was more to it. "Like what?" I asked, folding my arms.
"Well," Jeanne began carefully, "for one, the way you carry yourself. It's important to convey grace and poise. Women of the court are taught to stand tall, shoulders back, head high... it shows confidence, control." She demonstrated, her posture straightening with an elegance that looked so practiced, it was second nature.
tried to copy her but felt stiff, like I was acting a part. "Anything else?"
Luke cleared his throat. "The way you... speak to others. As the Elect, your words carry weight. Speaking too casually can come across as unrefined."
"Unrefined?" I muttered. "You mean I'm supposed to talk like I've got a crown stuck up myâ"
"Not exactly," he interrupted, a flicker of humor in his eyes. "But people will pay attention to every word. You must choose them carefully."
I groaned inwardly. This was starting to sound like a nightmare. I wasn't used to any of this. "So, what... I'm supposed to talk in circles, never say what I mean?"
Elsie spoke up this time, her tone more direct than Jeanne's. "In Aleria, conversations often have layers, My Lady. There's a dance to the way things are said. We don't always say things outright, but we leave room for meaning... it's a subtle art."
"Great," I muttered, shaking my head. "I'm really good at subtle."
"And what about... all this?" I gestured vaguely at my attire, still uncomfortable in the heavy, elaborate robes. "I feel like I'm wrapped up in ten layers of curtains."
"Your attire is essential, My Lady," Luke explained, his tone formal again. "It conveys your rank, your status. In public, you must always present yourself as a reflection of the power and grace of the Principi. Every detail mattersâfrom the way your robes are arranged, to the way your veil sits."
I tugged at the tight bun in my hair, feeling a headache already. "It's just... so different."
"We understand," Jeanne said kindly. "But you'll learn. And we'll help you."
I wasn't sure I believed that. This place felt so foreign like I was trying to be someone else entirely. How was I supposed to become a queen when I didn't even know how to act like one?
As if sensing my thoughts, Luke said softly, "You will adapt, My Lady. The people of Aleria need you. And, more importantly... they expect you to succeed."
As I struggled beneath the heavy weight of expectation; we moved on from the paintings, and we passed through a dining room. A gleaming table stood in the middle, surrounded by twenty-four chairs. The table was made of stone that was deep amethyst. And the matching chairs had backs carved to resemble various animals, which I mostly didn't recognize, although one was a unicorn. The five-year-old girl in me squee'd. Unicorns had always been a favorite of mine. My mother had painted dozens of them for my room.
I fought the tears that threatened me at the thought of my room in the forest. The first year of my abandonment, it had been my only thought. Jeanne was standing next to me, and, noticing my sadness, took my hand. She gave my hand a gentle squeeze, and I once again appreciated how sunny she was.
My stomach rumbled at the smell of baking fruits as we neared. I saw a smile crack on Luke's face, but it was so brief I must have imagined it.
"We'll pause so that you may get something from the kitchen, My Lady."
I followed Luke into the kitchen, the mouthwatering scent of baked fruit and cinnamon overwhelming my senses. The workers moved in a well-rehearsed rhythm, pulling trays of pastries from the ovens, while a large woman shouted orders to the bustling kitchen staff.
At the center of the chaos stood a tall, glamorous woman with an orange tabby clutched in her arms, hissing and struggling. "How did this animal get in here?" she demanded, oblivious to the cat's desperate attempts to escape. Her long, dark braid shimmered as she swung her head around to scowl at the kitchen staff.
"Emerlee," Luke muttered under his breath.
As if on cue, the woman spotted Luke and me, her scowl quickly turning into a simpering smile, and the tabby was quickly thrust into a kitchen worker's arms. "Luke! I took care of this nasty stray for you." Her voice dripped with false sweetness, but when her gaze landed on me, her eyes hardened.
"Who is this?" Emerlee asked, her tone suddenly sharp.
Luke didn't bother hiding his disdain. "This is Elect Madeline, Lady Emerlee. Daughter of the Brigid."
Emerlee's face twisted with barely concealed rage, but she forced a smile. "Ah, the Elect. How charming."
I took a step forward, offering my hand in introduction. "I'm Madeline."
She glanced at my hand but didn't take it, her eyes sweeping over me with clear disdain. "I see the mixed breeding in your face," she said, dismissing me entirely before turning her attention back to Luke. "You're still promised to me until the High Priestess dissolves it," she added, her voice colder now.
"That promise was annulled, Emerlee. You are no longer my betrothed," Luke replied, his tone clipped.
"We'll see about that, Luke O'Shea. I will have you--"
Before she could say more, Luke cut her off. "You made your choice when you decided to take other men to your bed without so much as making a promise to them. Please leave the manor until the Becoming Ceremony. Your presence is not required."
With a huff of indignation, Emerlee stomped out, her departure as dramatic as her entrance.
I stood there, shocked, as Luke stared after her. He looked more angry than I'd ever seen, and I remembered his warning about how I was to treat men, and now I understood better why he felt that way.
Once she was gone, the large womanâDanela, I assumedâturned from her work with a chuckle. "Quite the pest, isn't she?"
I gave her a tight smile and decided not to comment. "I came in for a pastry. Something to stop my stomach from causing an earthquake."
Danela handed me a tart, and I bit into it with a sigh of satisfaction as the sweet flavor of berries exploded on my tongue. "Danela, can I marry you?" I asked through a mouthful of pastry.
Danela laughed. "Already married, My Lady."
I groaned in disappointment.
Still upset that I couldn't marry Danela, I grabbed another tart on the way out, already bracing myself for whatever would come next.