The Tears of the Rose by Jeffe Kennedy Page B

more tea, to give myself something to do. All of this was absurd. “Need I remind you that she’s a traitor and a murderess? Our mother would disown her if she could.”
    Zevondeth reached over and patted my knee. “You have been through much, young Amelia, and you are distraught.”
    â€œThat doesn’t mean I’ve lost my wits!” I looked accusingly at Ursula. “Surely you don’t expect us to believe such a wild tale.”
    Ursula tucked her hands behind her back, spreading her legs into a solid stance—all wrong for the way she was dressed. She regarded me gravely. “I do expect you to believe it. It is the truth, whether the High King wishes it to be so or not.”
    I snorted, sipping the much cooler tea. I was not so empty-headed, and I knew things they did not. “He’ll find a way. If not him, King Erich will. We will have justice. It’s Glorianna’s will that we reclaim Annfwn for Her. A goddess is far more powerful than some Tala trickster.”
    Neither said anything, and I looked up to find them exchanging a speaking look. “What? It’s true.”
    â€œAre you speaking as Glorianna’s avatar?” Ursula’s lips twitched.
    â€œDo you mock me?” I set down the teacup. How I could feel the sting of such a thing, while the great, unanswered, and unshed weight of my grief crushed everything else, I didn’t know.
    â€œWell, let’s see. She appeared to you in a vision when you were five, saying that you should have a new pony. And was it when you were eight that she said you should eat only pastries and sweets?” She ran a thumb over the cabochon jewel. “Don’t you think you’re a bit old for this—and the circumstances particularly dire for your little games?”
    Games? So like her, to forever treat me like a child. I was a woman grown, a queen, and I would assume my rightful place as Glorianna’s avatar. “Yes. I am speaking as the avatar of the goddess, as everyone but you acknowledges me to be! High Priest Kir himself said that—”
    She barked out a laugh and scrubbed her hands through her hair, clearly having forgotten the pins, which fell to the floor. “I should have known better than to give him access to you. You need to learn not to listen to every bit of flattery lobbed in your direction.”
    â€œI’m not an idiot.”
    â€œNo, you just behave like one.”
    I stood, automatically smoothing my skirts. “As these are my rooms, I think you both should leave.”
    â€œSit yourself down and hear your sister out,” Zevondeth snapped, shocking me. “You always were a willful thing, and the way Uorsin spoiled you made it worse. Tell me what else Andi said.”
    Tears pricked my eyes and I thought I might weep at last. But no. Unable to do anything else, I sat, feeling small and miserable and unloved.
    â€œShe also said to find the dolls our mother made for us,” Ursula continued in an even tone.
    â€œClearly forgetting that our mother died birthing me, so there was never one for me, no matter what Ursula thinks.”
    A small stillness settled into the room. Ursula stared hard at Zevondeth, who actually looked uncomfortable. And much older. “She also said that you knew the truth and would tell us.”
    â€œAnd did she tell you the price of such information?” Zevondeth’s opaque gaze rested on the gnarled hands folded on her cane.
    â€œShe did not mention, no.”
    â€œHowever,” I inserted, “she did mention that she thought I should, in addition to this wild-goose chase after a mythical doll, send my infant daughter to her.” I laughed, and the hysterical edge to it scratched my throat. Neither of them seemed to find it funny—just watched me with that pitying concerned look everyone seemed to have for me these days. Be nice to the poor, delusional, and grieving princess, whose life is already