The mountains of Eddis, Attolia decided, made people crazy.
It was the only possible explanation for her fellow queen dragging her out here and insisting they dance.
"No," she said flatly, face blank.
Eddis smiled at her. "It's the orange blossom festival. We must."
"Mad. All of you mad," she insisted with a pang of hurt that she refused to acknowledge that her king had shared her weakness.
Helen was still smling at her, and Irene thought that between that smile and Eugenides' . . . everything, armies might be wholly unnecessary against the Medes.
On paper, Attolia was sovereign. In practice, Eddis must be secretly laughing at them all. People didn't conquer the people of Eddis, they were infected by them, mercy help the Medes if they ever managed to invade it.
So she danced with her sister queen and forgave her husband and looked to the mountains and smiled as the Medes sailed.
"I've been thinking," Gen said.
Costis, ever loyal, groaned and then tried to become one with the woodwork when they turned their heads to look at him.
Attolia raised an eyebrow. "You've corrupted him."
But she smiled. Wonderfully, wonderfully mad.