Hira looked back at Jutia. “The queen is not her mother.”
She was heavily relieved by the change of conversation. It was intrusive
and not Hira’s business. It was most improper and, despite her desire for
impropriety, she realized even she had limits.
“I’ve seen the portrait of Lady Lamya. She was quite stunning, like all
that come from the first people. They can’t help it, can they?” Jutia smirked.
Her dark mood seemed to abate.
“Have you not met the queen?” Hira sipped more of her ale, enjoying the
last bits in the bottom and wishing for another, but Penny remained
otherwise occupied.
“I’ve not had that pleasure. If she’s not a beauty, then she’s a tempest.”
Jutia bit her lip and glanced at Hira with a wink.
Hira smiled. “How do you know?”
Justan kissed Cevilla desperately in the background, as if he wished to
escape into her mouth. Such an exhibit was impossible to ignore. Jutia,
however, carefully protected herself and kept her eyes on Hira.
“I keep up with the times,” Jutia said as she downed the last of her ale.
“The moment her husband dies, she proposes marriage to the man
responsible for killing him. She conquers Easima with a dress, wins the
king’s heart, and slices the throat of the man who plotted against her. She
must be a tempest.”
Hira looked away from Justan’s shenanigans. “She’s a tempest alright.”
“Are you like her, my lady?” Jutia’s tone was that of curiosity and
amusement.
“I am nothing like Almira.”
For starters, Almira would never allow herself to be in a place such as
this. Much less having conversations with a woman like Captain Jutia or
lusting after a commander under her service betrothed to another while he
frolicked with many more. Especially after he dared speak to her in the
manner he did.