Chapter 3
Evelyn

I sigh, setting my teacup down, steam still pouring out the top of the porcelain with flower designs testing the lip of the cup. "Caterina, you act in my place now that Valerie is gone."

"Si, io conoscere. Ma devo essere in la sud perche' questo e' dove il nemico e'. Devo via dove la guerra e'. Io conoscere questo, tu conoscere questo. No litigare."

"Caterina, I still need an acting second in Valerie's absence."

"L'altro francese ragazza, poi?"

As she speaks, her voice booms out over the balcony and into the courtyard of Moonstone, her Italian accent thick, her arms moving frantically as she speaks, her words exaggerated in true italian fashion.

I met Caterina Russo in Puglia, Earth, just over two hundred years ago. Her mother had just cast her out of the Trulli and she was alone, despite the neighbors' offers to take her in. I think she misses that Adriatic sea most of all and the homemade orecchiette pasta.

"Madeleine, you mean?"

"Si, mia regina."

"Fine. Make it happen."

"Grazie, mia regina. Grazie." She says, taking my hand in hers, kissing my knuckles as she goes to leave the room.

I call after her before she's out the door, "Caterina, tell Madeleine-"

She waves her hand dramatically, "Si si, trova una altra balla la maestra. Lo faro' ottena lei la comunicazione."

After Caterina is out the door, silence leaves me near paralized in my seat. Her energy is so consuming that I forget my own in her presence.

I reach for my tea cup, only to find it empty. My lips don't meet the cup, but I hold the slim handle with two fingers.

I have a meeting with four rulers in an hour. In one hour Varsillia's fate may be determined by my skill with words and negotiation. Valindra should be easy to convince. Her ocean provinces suffer pollution and she's scrambling to have the very witches that hate the ocean provinces, solve the problem.

Her people are about to fall into a civil war. Her resources are down by thirty percent since the last time we spoke and I'm sure she's desperately seeking out allies.

Devon, the king of Qiem, will be a little harder seeing as he hates my family. We've never met, but I'm sure he's already formed his opinion of me.

I already have Jezebel's troops and our alliance is solid.

That leaves Ervin Vaugh as the tricky factor. I know how he looks on paper, but I've never met him, seen him, been able to get a spy in his court. He's a son of a whore and a king born of a whore as well, both bastards born out of wedlock.

He's the most like me, which means he should be the hardest to negotiate with. If I know myself then it sounds like I know him.
One hour and the fate of this world is sealed. Saved or damned.

A knock at my door comes and I immediately think about how Leander, Draven and Aaliyah have never bothered with a knock, they simply barge into my room without preamble.
"Come in. Entra. Entrez. Adelante."Evelyn

Cassandra Parsons shows her face as the door opens with a creak. She wears dark kohl and red lipstick, her face bold in the light of day. She wears a silk shirt, heeled boots and black leathers.

"I know that you're having a meeting with Devon Adceron. I want to be their."

"Why?"

"My family is trying to work out an engagement between the two of us. If I marry him, he will be obligated to fight for Varsillia is he expects any heirs to be produced."

"You won't be coming to the meeting with me, but we can speak more on this later, yes?"

She shakes her head, smiling, "Of course." She heads to the door, but hesitates when she reaches for the nob, her hands shaking ever so slightly.

"You can spit it out, Cassandra."

She rolls her bottom lip through her teeth, her eyes cast downwards, "You seem different."

My amusement is a deep contrast to her confusion. "The world likes to see me as a broken doll who has learned to direct her shards of pain out, rather than keep them in. I hear at least twice a day about how I have no heart, that I'm evil." I grab a stack of papers, straightening them, continuing my words as I organize them into three different piles.

Cassandra is quiet, frozen to the ground in shock, her head turning circles. "Since before I can remember, I have heard people whisper about how I have such an awful life- that I have learned to take pleasure in the blood that I shed. I am tired of caring what others think of me. You need me to win this war and I'll be discarded when it is over, so what am I so worried about?"

My mouth has come unhinged and it is spewing all of my emotions. I've waited so long to do this, that my confessions are a waterfall that never runs dry. "Ask it, Cassandra. Ask me."

Her hands shake as she draws them to her sides, all thoughts of leaving gone. Her voice is just as unsteady as she is, "How did Lucas Wright die?"

My world is unraveling and I have no care of it left inside of my bleeding soul. They can all take their best shot at me, after all- there is nothing that can be done to me that hasn't been done before.

Why should I still have to live in fear when I have nothing to fear?

"At first I didn't mean to kill him. I just wanted to toy with him. I said some things, he said some things. Next thing I knew I was making the choice to end him. I lit fire to the curtains and I blacked the room out, I spoke to him, mocking him, telling him of all his faults. He tripped as he attempted to edge away from me. He fell into the flames and burned to death."

She is pale as if a ghost has taken her place. She is fearful because everyone is dispensable to me. I know that someday they will all die, so it doesn't matter if that death is now or later.

Her voice comes out breathless, "Ravenna Nivirah?"

My face is twisted and ugly. My eyes shine with hate, rage, passion and madness. "I loved Ravenna Nivirah. I was a foolish child who had gotten a taste of love and wanted more. I sliced her open from hip to collarbone and I crushed her heart after twisting her mind. I killed her because she broke my heart."

Her eyes are practically bulging as her mouth gapes open like a fish out of water. "Now it's your turn to judge me, to tell me how awful I am, how foolish."

Her eyes water as she speaks to me, her hands no longer shaking, now limp at her sides. She's off balance and if I were to lunge at her, she would fall. Cassandra Parsons has seen the girl beneath the queen and I don't know what to do with that. I'm not sure that I care.

Her words are soft, her eyes not meeting mine, "It is hard to hate someone who is so fundamentally broken."

"Pity is truly a modern marvel I have no interest in. What a trivial and useless practice."

She shakes her head, a tear leaking down her face. She wipes it away with the back of her hand, careful not to smudge the kohl lining her eye. "No. I don't pity you. You have a crappy hand in life, but you're more than I ever could be, can be. I don't pity you because you will be remembered and I can't help but envy you that."

A bitter sound is lodged in my throat. Sunlight streams in and streaks across my pale cheeks, lining my figure. The perfect image with a twisted undercurrent of darkness.

"Such a price we pay to be anything in this world. You are free Cassandra. I do not understand why anyone comes to this cursed court, much less decides to stay."

She throws her hands up in question, confusion, regret and understanding, "We live so long that we are all forgotten within our own lifetime. We don't fear death, we fear being erased from history."

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