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It took them longer than it should have to realise that Glisselda was exactly what they needed. Seraphina and Kiggs together was something beautiful and fragile, struggling into life and barely clinging to it, hopeful but weak. Their love was made of stolen glances across the Blue Salon, nods in hallways, the way Phina hesitated when speaking about him to others, unsure which name to call him by.
They didn’t even realise it right away after they told Selda about them, when the dust and the grief had settled a little. She took it well, considering.
‘Well, lots of people marry people who don’t love them,’ she said. ‘Unless this means you want to break off the engagement, Lucian?’
‘Well, I... we hadn’t thought that far ahead,’ he said. ‘I just didn’t feel it was right not to tell you.’
She nodded. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Well... thank you for not lying to me. I’ll need to think about this.’
There followed a few days of anxious waiting during which Selda was perfectly nice to both of them, and they still walked around the palace like guilty shadows, afraid to be seen together, afraid to even speak to one another, even for perfectly sensible reasons.
It didn’t seem as though anyone knew. No whispers suddenly stopping when Phina entered a room. But she guessed Selda must have told Millie, because when Phina bumped into her in the corridor she glared and said nothing.
At length they were summoned.
‘Here’s what I propose,’ said Selda. ‘Kiggs and I will still marry, for politics and everything. You two can still be together. It might make things more difficult down the line, but, as long as Lucian can... give me an heir, I don’t think it will ruin everything. It’s obvious that the two of you have a special connection and the last thing in the world I want is to get in the way of it.’
Phina’s heart contracted painfully. Selda was giving them everything on a plate. So why wasn’t she delighted?
She exchanged glances with Kiggs, and she knew. They could both spot a liar - she from being one, and he from not. Selda was unhappy.
‘Selda...’ Kiggs began, ‘are you really...’
‘It’s the only sensible thing to do,’ Selda said, in her firmest tones.
And even though Phina’s breath caught in her throat at how beautiful Selda looked at that moment - how regal and how sad and how brave - it didn’t occur to her then what the solution was.
Their music lessons continued. They both tried to act as though nothing had changed. When Phina put her hands over Selda’s on the harpsichord to show her what to do, she tried not to feel sad that Selda tensed up at her touch and sighed almost inaudibly. When they bent their heads over the music together and Selda bit her lip and looked into her lap, Phina felt spasms of guilt in her stomach at how much Selda must secretly despise her for stealing her fiance. It made things difficult and bittersweet between her and Kiggs, and they found themselves taking no pleasure in one another, meeting in secret only to sigh and frown.
Even at night when she was alone, her garden put to bed, Phina couldn’t think of Kiggs without Selda intruding into her thoughts. Half-asleep, her mind wandered into thoughts of fingers touching across the keys, meeting, twining. Selda’s little sigh.
Her eyes flew open. Several pieces fell into place.
She wasn’t sure. How could she be? Even believing that anyone could find her attractive was a fairly recent development. But she had thrown off secrecy now - she wouldn’t keep this to herself.
She didn’t sleep much. At their music lesson the next morning she was yawning and slow.
‘Are you all right, Phina?’ Selda asked.
‘Just a little tired,’ Phina said. ‘I didn’t sleep well. In truth, I couldn’t sleep for thinking about you.’
She saw Selda’s face colour, the flicker of hope at what this might mean.
‘Oh?’ she asked, lightly.
Phina shuffled closer to her on the stool and took her hand. Selda held her breath. Phina planted a soft kiss on her rosebud lips. The breath sighed out gently between them.
Kiggs was bewildered but delighted by this development. It seemed to solve everything except what they would say to everyone else.
‘That doesn’t matter,’ said Selda with a toss of her golden head. ‘When I’m queen nobody will dare tell me what to do. You shall both be my consorts. And if there’s a law against it, well, I’ll change it.’
The three of them worked in a way that two hadn’t. Phina and Kiggs had been intense, Phina and Kiggs and Selda was fun. They danced in the Blue Salon when everyone else had retired. They sang and read and talked and laughed. When two of them were together, it was like the third was some sort of almost there that made it better.
There was more to think of, of course. The looming war, Phina’s quest, the queen’s failing health - although it seemed sometimes to fill the whole world, what they shared was made up of snatched moments, footnotes to the greater drama.
It didn’t matter. There was time, and they had each other.