She bobbed a curtsy. “Your gown for this evening. The king said to tell you it’s a gift.”
I took the box reluctantly from her, holding it away from me just in case Ceren’s “gift” was anything like the bat pie he’d made for me at the feast where I danced with Talin. “I’ll dress myself,” I told the maid, dismissing her.
She stared at me with that frozen smile, barely even blinking. “The king said to tell you that if you don’t wear the gown, there will be consequences.” She curtsied again, walked to the door, and backed out with that hideous smile never faltering.
Ceren’s consequences would no doubt be for my father, if I knew him at all. And if this dress came with a warning, it certainly wasn’t a gift. I braced myself before removing the lid from the box and peeling back the layers of soft tissue paper inside.
My breath caught despite myself. It wasn’t the first red gown I’d ever seen. That honor went to the dress I’d worn for the choosing ceremony in Varenia. It had once been Mother’s own white choosing ceremony dress, dyed a garish blood-red meant to evoke the meaning of my name: coral. At the time, it was the finest thing I’d ever worn, but I had never felt beautiful in it.
I knew that this gown, with its scarlet velvet bodice leading to a skirt made of layer upon layer of crimson chiffon, would make any woman feel beautiful.
I slammed the lid back on the box and pushed it away from me.
Ceren was trying to make a fool of me in front of the court. Among all the somberly dressed men and women, I would stand out like a sore thumb, in flagrant violation of the Ilarean court’s rule of wearing mourning clothing. I flipped through my wardrobe and pulled out the simplest black dress I could find, cursing Ceren in increasingly creative ways the whole time.
After I was dressed and my hair was pinned up in a severe, matronly bun, I stopped in front of my door with a sigh. As much as it would be exactly what Ceren deserved, I couldn’t go downstairs like this. He would never let me get away with that kind of disobedience. In a childish fit, I threw off the black dress, ripped the pins out of my hair, and changed into the blasted red gown.
The moment I stepped into the dining hall, the roomful of people fell silent. I hadn’t planned to arrive so late, but I had struggled to fit the tight corset over my new, fuller frame. Now, my ribs strained against it as I struggled to keep my breathing deep and even.
Ceren rose from his seat at the head of the table, where his father had once sat. The seat next to his was empty, obviously reserved for me.
From the look on Ceren’s face, he was pleased with what he saw. My hair was loose around my shoulders, wavy from the braids I’d worn earlier. All of the other ladies present wore their dark mourning clothes, their hair up and powdered, and here I was in my scarlet gown, a traitor brazen enough to break all the rules after nearly assassinating the king.
I forced myself to meet Ceren’s gaze. Naturally, he was smirking. I raised my chin, feigning confidence, and strode across the hall toward the seat beside the king.
Who does she think she is? I could hear the other diners’ thoughts as if they spoke them aloud. How dare she sit next to the king? She should be rotting in the dungeon along with the rest of her kind.
When I reached Ceren, I dropped into my lowest, most graceful curtsy, but my eyes remained insolently trained on his.
To my surprise, Ceren returned the gesture with a flourishing bow. “The dress suits you even more than I’d hoped,” he said as I took my seat. “Ah, the first course is ready.”
As everyone began to eat their meals, I eyed my goblet warily. I knew better than to drink it, but it was going to be difficult to get through this evening with a clear head.
“You’re not thinking of drinking that, are you?” Ceren asked, an amused smile playing on his lips.
“Of course not.”
“Good.” He took a sip of his own wine. “You have the tolerance of a small child.”
A dozen insults came to me, but I managed to bite my tongue. “You knew what this dress would do. How am I supposed to get through a meal with everyone staring at me?”
He waved his hand toward the nobles in one of his typical flippant gestures. “You can hardly blame them. They’re a morbidly curious lot, and they do so love a scandal.”
“Aren’t you worried that this will make you look weak to them?” I asked. “If someone can nearly kill the king and get away with it, what’s to stop someone else from trying?”
In answer, he twisted the bloodstone ring on his thumb. I glanced around and realized for the first time that nearly everyone present wore a bloodstone somewhere, either on a necklace, a bracelet, or a hairpin—even an earring in one nobleman’s ear. The red stones glimmered in the candlelight like drops of blood.
“Why aren’t they acting half-asleep, like the others I’ve seen?”
“I’m not controlling them at the moment. When I do, it gets rather dull around here.”
I glanced at the stone on his finger, the faint pulsating light within. “How do they work?”
“The bloodstones? Ah, that’s my little secret, isn’t it?”
I took a bite of a small, unidentifiable root vegetable soaked in butter. “You expect me to trust you, but you clearly don’t trust me.”
Ceren sat back in his chair. “You did try to kill me.”
“Technically, you stepped into my blade,” I muttered. We ate in silence for a while, until I realized that Ceren was staring at me.
“You’re not as thin as you were before.” His gaze had drifted somewhere below my neckline.
“I’m not starving anymore,” I said flatly, hating how exposed I felt under his scrutiny.
“Now who’s being unfair? I hardly starved you while you were here.”
“Oh, that’s right. I had all the liver and bat pie I could stomach.”
Ceren barked a laugh so loud that several nearby lordlings turned to stare at him. He coughed and sipped his wine as if he’d been choking.
I couldn’t help smirking as I nibbled on a piece of bread.
“I’m glad you stopped covering your scar,” he said.
I was so surprised I nearly choked myself. “Why?”
“Because it’s a part of you. The most important part, you might say. You shouldn’t be ashamed of it.”
He had seen my memory of that day, I remembered. It had certainly been a turning point in my life, as much as coming to Ilara had been. “I was never ashamed of it,” I said quietly. “I was raised to be ashamed of it because it meant I could never be chosen to marry you. But I always knew my mother was wrong.”
“Tell me,” he said, leaning forward on his elbows. “If your mother was so horrible to you, why did you sacrifice yourself for her freedom? I would think you’d be glad that all those people who treated you badly in Varenia were finally being punished. I know I would.”
“They weren’t being punished for being cruel to me.” My eyes found his. “Were they?”
He held my gaze for a moment. “Why do you love it so much?”
“What? Varenia?”
He nodded. “I’ve always wondered why Talia longed to return there.”
“I can’t speak for Talia. Perhaps she missed her family, or simply the familiarity of home. It couldn’t be more different from New Castle.”
Ceren seemed to genuinely consider this. “You went back, though.”
“For my family, not for me.”
“So you don’t feel any affinity for your home?”
“Of course I do,” I said, bristling. “It’s vibrant and lively and unlike anywhere else I’ve been. Our houses are painted in the brightest colors, and the water...” A wistful smile curled my lips simply from imagining it. “It’s so blue. I haven’t seen that color anywhere. Except...” I trailed off and stuffed a bite of food in my mouth. Ceren didn’t want to hear about his bro
ther’s eyes.
“I have to admit, it was more beautiful than I expected,” he said. “I would like to see it again, under different circumstances.”
I glanced up from my plate. “Really? I would have thought you’d despise it. It’s small and simple, not to mention sunny and warm and in the middle of a massive expanse of water.”
He answered with a low chuckle. For a few minutes, we sat in silence, and then he abruptly pushed his chair back from the table. “Why don’t I take you to see your father?”
“Now? In the middle of dinner?”
He stepped behind my chair and lowered his face until it was next to mine. “Look around you, Nor.”
I turned to the nearest noble. He was staring into the air in front of him, his fork hovering midway to his mouth. I blinked and looked around. Everyone was frozen, as if time had stopped and Ceren and I were the only ones unaffected by it.
“What did you do to them?”
“Nothing. I’m just giving us a moment to make a graceful exit.”
“This isn’t right,” I said as he helped me up from my chair.
He linked his arm through mine. “Do they look upset to you? Think of them as taking a brief catnap.”
“It’s not a nap,” I hissed as we crossed the dining hall to the corridor. Just as we reached the door, the silent room erupted in chatter. I glanced behind me to see the royals resuming their meal as if nothing had happened.
As we made our way deeper into the mountain via the many twisting tunnels of New Castle, my fear began to build. I was going to see Father, I reminded myself. I needed to focus on how I could get him out, should the chance present itself.
“You’re shivering,” Ceren said as we entered the final tunnel. “I should have provided you with a wrap.”
“You did quite enough,” I said, referring to the gown. “Where did you get this, anyhow? There’s no way your mother wore a dress this color.”
“Of course not. I had it made before you left. I thought it would look nice with the coral crown.”
He had actually expected me to accept his proposal, I realized. How could he have possibly thought I’d say yes? I looked up and studied his profile. His nose was a little longer than Talin’s, his cheekbones slightly more pronounced, but if I dipped Ceren in bronze, it would be a very similar silhouette. “What happened to the crown?” I asked.
“Hmm? Oh, I’m afraid it sustained a bit of damage in our little skirmish.”
“What will your queen wear, when you choose one?”
His lip curled in a sneer. “I find myself put off by the idea of marriage of late.”
“If you win this war, you’ll have to start a family. The throne will need an heir.”
He stiffened, and I was glad to know I still had the ability to rile him. That meant he still cared what I thought, and I might be able to use that to my advantage at some point. “I’ll worry about that when the time comes. What is Talia’s plan, anyhow? A siege? She must know I have enough stores in this mountain to last for years.”
Talia had never said anything about a siege. I assumed she would attack the mountain, eliminating the troops at its base before beginning an ascent. “I don’t know her plan,” I admitted. “She wasn’t exactly forthcoming with me.”
“No, Talia has never been welcoming to anyone who wasn’t a blood relative.”
Talin had seen a side of Talia that I would never see, I knew. But the way she distanced herself from everyone but her children would make it much harder for people to respect her as a ruler, even as just a proxy ruler until Zoi came of age. “What is your plan? To stay in the mountain and rule from here? Continue to grow your army until you can defeat Talia’s?”
“That will depend on some things,” he said noncommittally.
We had reached the tunnel leading to the dungeons. Ceren gestured for me to proceed, as the tunnel was too narrow to walk side by side. Turning my back on Ceren felt like turning my back on a shark, but I didn’t have much of a choice.
“I’ll wait here for you,” Ceren said, stopping when we reached the first set of guards.
“Why?” I asked, surprised and not particularly thrilled at the idea of going into the dungeon alone.
“To give you privacy. But try to remember, your father spent all of his time either sleeping or diving. He doesn’t know anything that can help Talia or her cause. If I were you, I’d just enjoy the time together.”
I ignored him and hurried down the corridor lit with foxfire torches. They cast green light against the walls of the tunnel, and the shadows of the guards loomed like giants as I made my way past them. Finally, I reached the part of the dungeon where the prisoners were kept in small cells.
“Father?” I called into the dark.
“Nor?”
My breath left me in a rush as I hurried to his cell. The door was wooden, but there was a small window inset with steel bars. As I reached the door, I saw his fingers stretch through the bars, and I immediately grasped them in mine.
“Nor,” he said. “I can’t believe it’s really you.”
I could only see his dark eyes and a bit of his proud forehead, but even that glimpse was enough to make me gasp. His skin was lined in a way I’d never seen before, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He had aged ten years in a matter of weeks.
“Are you all right, Father?”
“I’m fine, child. And you? How did you end up here?”
I caught him up on everything that had happened since I’d last seen him as quickly as I could. “I’m going to get you free,” I assured him. “Do you know which of the guards has the keys?”
He shook his head. “They never bring torches when they come, so I can’t see them. They don’t speak, either.”
“Oh, Father.” I squeezed his fingers in solidarity. “How terribly lonely.”
“Have you seen your mother? How are Zadie and Sami?”
“Everyone is fine. The Varenians were all freed when I came.” All except us, I thought bitterly. “Zadie and Sami are doing very well, Father.”
“That’s all that matters,” he murmured.
“You matter,” I told him. “Don’t give up on me.”
“Listen to me, Nor. We’re running out of time.” He lowered his voice. “Sometimes, when Ceren was away from the castle, his control over the stones would slip. The Varenians were able to dig a tunnel leading to the outside while they mined. I suspect it’s the one you escaped through before. Promise me if you have a chance to go, you’ll take it. I’ll be fine, knowing you are safe.”
I kissed his fingers in gratitude. If Father was correct, that meant we had a way out. But if he thought there was any chance of me leaving without him, he didn’t know me at all, and I told him as much.
“How did I raise such a determined daughter?” he mused, his tone a mixture of pride and resignation.
I smiled, feigning cheerfulness. “I should get back. I’ll come and visit again as soon as I can.”
He squeezed my hand and released it, and suddenly the thought of leaving him was too painful to bear.
“Nor?”
It was Ceren, calling down the corridor for me. I turned back to Father. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too, Nor. Just knowing you’re close by makes me stronger.”
“Me, too,” I whispered. I knew that I would defeat Ceren, somehow. Because even if love was my greatest weakness, it was also the thing that made me strong.
29
The next day, I was invited to meet with Lady Hyacinth for tea. I had no desire to see her; she’d been part of the plan to use the Varenians to dive for pearls, and I had a feeling she was behind the bloodstone mines. But she was also the head of Ceren’s war council, which meant she of all people would know his plan of attack.
I had to be careful with how I approached her,
though. She was as deceptive as a stingray—soft and placid most of the time, but fully capable of whipping her stinger out at any provocation.
“Lady Nor,” Hyacinth said when I entered her chambers. As usual, her natural beauty was obscured by her severe facade. She wore her hair pulled back tight against her skull, and her dress had long sleeves and a high neck, exposing only her hands and face. Her eyes were lined heavily with kohl, a style uncommon in Varenia that made her look even more fierce.
“Lady Hyacinth.” I dropped into a polite curtsy, surprised she had used a title when gods knew no one else had bothered.
“Welcome back.” She gestured to the three other women in the room. “I’d like you to meet the better half of King Ceren’s war council: Ladies Lyra, Dree, and Poppy.”
I studied the women with interest. I vaguely recognized two of them from my previous time at New Castle, though none of them had attended Hyacinth’s tea parties. The third, Poppy, was completely unfamiliar. It was interesting that half of Ceren’s war councilors were women, when he had made it very clear how little he respected them. “A pleasure,” I said, taking the offered seat. “May I ask why I was invited today?”
“You may ask whatever you like,” Hyacinth said with a high, musical laugh that was clearly fake. Several of the others chuckled, too, but I kept my expression neutral. “Sweet girl. Don’t you remember what the first rule of warfare is?”
I remembered what she’d told me all too well. “Know your enemy.”
“Exactly! Such a smart one. I always thought King Ceren was underestimating you. I was hardly surprised when you escaped. I wasn’t even surprised you stabbed the king.” She came to stand behind me, placing her hands on my shoulders. I could feel her long nails—kept that way to show she was above manual labor—pressing against my skin through the holes in my knit wrap. “We are all very fortunate you didn’t manage to finish the job.”
The other councilmembers were watching me for a reaction, and I wondered what qualified them to advise anyone on warfare. Given their soft hands and smooth skin, they hadn’t spent much time outdoors, let alone fighting.
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