Red Ruse

Chapter Eight

Evangeline

Elara's words haunt me as I conduct my courtly duties, echoing even as I print invitations for luncheon. Ordinarily, I'd ask a servant, but I've seen the way they look at her. The way their eyes linger on her new uniform, sparkling as she stood at the new king's side. They think she's their savior.

And I am their enemy.

My anger is buried in calligraphy, grand sweeps that reduce Barrow to a messy splotch of ink. She's not invited, of course. Not until she bows before me and apologizes. For what, I'm not sure. She can figure it out.

"Hey." A voice calls from behind me, sunbeam drifting from the window to my hair. Hers burns against a black gown, tickling my chin as she leans into my ear. "Having a bad day?"

"With you? Never."

She chuckles. "That's a lot of invitations."

"To be unsent." I cluck my tongue. "Barrow's are a mere vent for my rage."

"Hmm." Elane places a hand over mine. "Perhaps they could be more."

I make a face. "Surely you don't mean–"

"I wanna see how she reacts." She plucks one of the nicer envelopes, sealing it before I can object. "Enemies are best kept close, darling."

"Lovers closest of all." My hand creeps to her waist, tugging her onto my lap. The other pries the invitation away.

"Evie–" She rolls her eyes, protest waning as I pepper her chin with kisses. Her fingers climb to my shoulder, envelope fluttering to the ground. "You naughty girl."

"Your naughty girl."

Elane tuts, shaking her head. "Who else are you inviting?"

"Atara. Sonya. You." I sign the last invitation with a flourish. "My trio of spies."

"Clever." Barrow's envelope dangles between her fingers, several inches from my grasp. I reach for it, and she sighs. "Eve–"

I waver. Elane has never been so insistent with me, not without reason. "What are you planning?"

"A surprise." She lays a finger on my lips. "Trust me."

"Alright." A breath. "Could you deliver them? I don't trust the Reds."

Her eyes gleam. "Neither do I."

Luncheon is a quiet affair, at first. Neither Sonya nor Atara have much to say, especially when Barrow fails to make an appearance. I cluck my tongue. "She thinks she's too good for us."

"You mean Elane?" Atara is sharp as a blade, sinking in my chest with lethal precision. "I agree. She's always been too good for anyone but you."

Invest in your cousin. Mother's words rise within me, distant and laughable. She may scorn you on the surface, but she yearns for your approval. Give her scraps, and she will hunger for more.

"It is odd that she hasn't made an appearance." Sonya purses her lips. "Either of them."

My fists clench. "Elane has earned the right to be tardy. Barrow has not."

"She's probably making out with Maven in a corner somewhere." Atara yawns. "Or Elane. It wouldn't surprise me. She's clearly a seductress."

"Excuse me." Elane never fails to make my heart stop beating. "Who am I making out with?"

Sonya smiles. "Welcome back."

Atara sniffs, folding her arms. "Took you long enough." She stills, mouth tightening. "Who's your friend?"