by Emma Fenton
She didn’t have to. The stunned silence as she drove her sword through Jaya’s throat would stay with her forever. The absolute disbelief on their faces. The confusion. Nor would she forget the sneers she’d received before the fight, how they turned their noses up at her, how they whispered behind her back. None of their compliments could erase the past.
But Ria had smiled and nodded and accepted the compliments anyway because it was poor hospitality to stab her guests and bad politics to snub the nobility. And so she worked her way around the room, getting dragged into dozens of unnecessary conversations. Every time she thought she caught a glimpse of Peryn, some other noble would get in her way.
“I simply love what you’ve done with your hair,” a heavily pregnant Lady Kerine said, staring with obvious interest at the pearl-studded circlet resting on top of Ria’s head. “So elegant.”
“You’re too kind.” Ria forced another smile. “When is the baby due?”
“Near the end of the Thaw, your majesty.” At this, Lady Kerine gave a genuine smile, hand resting lightly over her stomach. “I confess I’m eager not to have to carry her around with me anymore. She is quite heavy.”
“He, you mean,” her husband corrected. “I am certain we will have a little heir.”
“I wish you and your family the best of health,” Ria said, delicately extricating herself from the conversation before they could start making demands of her, such as that she should come visit them and grace their home with her presence, or that she bless the baby herself, or that she afford them a higher wage since their family was growing. Not that Lady Kerine or her husband needed more money. They had plenty of land already and many prosperous tenants; they certainly did not need help from the crown.
Ria wove through the crowd, careful to avoid the groups of men who would want to relive her fight against Jaya and expound upon the glory of bloodshed. She had already had the misfortune of stumbling across one such group already, and the enthusiasm with which they had talked about her sister’s death made Ria distinctly uncomfortable.
They were enamored with her display of violence; they saw something admirable in that which Ria could not comprehend. Couldn’t they understand that she hadn’t wanted to fight? That there was no honor in handing a child a sword and telling her to choose between herself and her sister? Even with hating Jaya as she did, Ria hadn’t wanted to kill anyone. But they didn’t see any of that.
Just as yet another lord seemed ready to corner her—no doubt another conversation about tax exemptions—a familiar brown, freckled hand captured her own. Prince Feodor brought her hand to his lips and placed a small kiss on her knuckles. Relief washed over her. She could do with a friendly face right now.
“I hoped I might capture you for a dance,” he said, golden-brown eyes crinkling as he smiled.
“Please.”
They walked out onto the dance floor where several other couples were already dancing. Ria allowed herself to relax a little; she still had to find Peryn and warn him about Izan, but that could wait for another few minutes.
“You’ve doubtlessly been told already, but you look magnificent tonight,” Feodor said, spinning them gently around the room.
Ria laughed lightly. “You are perhaps the only person who would say so without an ulterior motive.”
Feodor was always so earnest, so straightforward. He often reminded her of herself, or rather, the person she had been before the prophecy, before her life had been completely upended. It was like looking through a mirror into her past.
“I have my own motives,” Feodor said, oddly serious. Her brow furrowed as she looked at him, trying to ascertain what he meant. He spun her again. “It cannot be a secret that I’ve grown rather fond of you, Ria, despite our short acquaintance.”
“As I am fond of you, Feodor,” she said, uncertain as to where he was going with this. Did he think she did not value his friendship?
His lips twitched, and he looked very much like he wanted to contradict her, but instead he said, “I mean to say that I could easily come to love you, given enough time, if you’d let me.”
Oh. Oh. Ria couldn’t think of anything to say. Her mind had gone blank and she could do nothing but stare at him, mouth hanging open just a little. So this is what Izan meant when he said I was playing games with love. Ria felt incredibly stupid for not having realized sooner that Feodor would get attached. She had noted the similarities between him and the girl she used to be, and yet she had somehow forgotten to account for the way she used to be careless with her love. The way Feodor, now, was careless with his.
“You are unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” Feodor said, continuing on despite her stunned silence. “And yet I feel as though I’ve found a kindred spirit in you.”
“Feodor—”
“I can imagine a future with you, Ria. A happy one.”
She could almost imagine it, too. Days spent in the library and piles of books stacked higher than their heads. Quiet walks through the gardens. Feodor’s contagious smile, and perhaps even meeting his brother and parents, becoming part of a family that didn’t hate each other. He would never be unkind. He could teach her how to be gentle again.
And just like that, the image in her head cracked, splintered into a thousand shards. They would never get that kind of life even if she did marry him. Lord Izan had already made his threats, and Ria wasn’t strong enough to protect both herself and Feodor. And she wasn’t selfish enough to force him through the same hellfire she’d been through just so she could keep him, just so she could have a chance at the life she pictured. But she could keep him safe if she sent him away.
“You’ve become a dear friend to me, Feodor,” she said. “In a time when I had no one, you showed me true kindness.”
There was no easy way to let him go. She didn’t love him, not in the way that he wanted her to, and she knew that she never would. But she dreaded the thought of losing his friendship. She dreaded the thought of being alone again.
“You’re going to choose Lord Hollbrook, aren’t you,” Feodor said, and it wasn’t a question. He sounded more resigned than anything.
Ria frowned; this wasn’t the direction she’d planned on taking the conversation. And why was he so certain she would pick Peryn? Really, she thought most people probably assumed that she would go with Feodor. The Council certainly would prefer a prince over some random lord, not that they would say so aloud.
“I haven’t made a decision—”
“Yes, you have.” Feodor smiled sadly, only a hint of bitterness at the edges. “You always look to each other first.”
“What?” Ria shook her head, feeling as though this conversation had gotten terribly derailed. Maybe she’d had too much wine at dinner. “I don’t know what that means.”
“Perhaps you don’t notice. But I’ve seen it. When you got that letter at dinner, and again during that disaster with Keffleton, and after you sparred with Izan. Whenever there’s trouble, you look to him. And even when there’s not. You look at each other like you’re sharing a secret that only the two of you know about.”
Ria froze. Had he somehow figured her out? Did he know about the prophecy, or that Peryn was a demon? Perhaps she had underestimated Feodor. And if he knew, did anyone else?
He noticed the way she tensed in his arms as he spun her in another circle around the dance floor.
“I won’t pry,” he assured her, and she relaxed minutely. Feodor, mercifully, wouldn’t use this against her, further proof that he didn’t belong in the Helish court. He was too good. “Your secrets are yours to keep or tell as you wish.”
Ria was quiet for a moment, thinking. She hadn’t been aware of how often she looked to Peryn, and idly wondered if anyone else—like Izan—had made note.
“How do you know?” she asked, and when Feodor’s brow furrowed, she continued, “How do you know that I always look at Peryn—at Lord Hollbrook, first?”
Feodor’s expression flickered so quickly she couldn’t make o
ut any of the emotions. And then he pulled her so close that she was nearly tucked under his chin, close enough that she couldn’t see his face. He was warm and smelled pleasantly of sweet spices, and Ria once again mourned that she hadn’t met Feodor sooner. In a different life, she thought, I could have been happy with him.
“Because,” he said, his voice soft and low in her ear. “I always look to you.”
She startled, leaning back so she could look up at him. “Feodor—”
“Just tell me he deserves you,” Feodor whispered. “Tell me he deserves you, and I’ll be happy for you both.”
Ria gave him a teasing smile and reached up to wipe away a stray teardrop that had collected at the corner of his eye. “What if I said I don’t think any man deserves me?”
Feodor laughed, spinning her one final time as the song drew to an end. “That’s probably true.”
When the last strands of music faded from the air and Ria had curtsied appropriately, she slipped away in search of a quiet corner to where she could think. Her brain was swimming—drowning, really—in information that she needed to pull apart and process. Feodor was far more perceptive than she’d given him credit for; she was lucky that he wasn’t the kind of person who would use that against her.
But it was still unnerving to have someone see through her like that, to see things about her that she didn’t even see herself. Ria hadn’t missed the way Feodor had looked when he talked about her and Peryn; he thought there was some sort of affection between them. It’s just business, she reassured herself. She looked to Peryn when things went wrong because he had a vested interest in keeping them both alive and the power to do so. Besides, they were the only two people who knew what was really going on with Izan’s plotting and the prophecy.
You feel safe around him, trust him with your secrets, and value his insight, said a smug voice in her head. Because that’s not a sign of attachment. Ria told the voice where it could shove it. Peryn was an ally—perhaps her only ally right now, considering the Elder Scholar was still off who knows where—and that meant that there had to be a certain amount of trust between them. It had nothing to do with attraction or her personal feelings towards him, whatever those were.
Which was something she should probably figure out sooner rather than later. If it defied logic to trust a demon spirit, then it seemed almost blasphemous to actually like one. But Peryn had grown on her. He was infuriating, and dangerous, and callous, and selfish, and exactly the kind of person Ria should stay as far away from as possible. But she had become accustomed to his presence, even his moods and his tendency to push her buttons. Nothing good could come of this, she knew. Maybe she was going crazy after all; she wouldn’t be too surprised with all the stress she’d been under lately.
And if she’d been worried about letting Feodor go knowing that she might lose his friendship, her anxiety over losing Peryn seemed ten-fold. Ria wanted to bang her head into the nearest wall. Dear gods, please do not let me have feelings, she prayed. She was getting careless again, like she had with Mikhael. Only this was worse because she knew better, dammit. She knew not to trust men, and especially not demonic ones. But she didn’t know how to stop.
“Existential crisis?”
Ria jumped at the sound of an all-too-familiar voice right behind her. She whipped around and came face to face with the very man she’d just been thinking of. Why now, she whined. I try to find him all evening, and of course he only shows up when I most need a moment to myself. That was typical Peryn, though. He wasn’t very good at giving her privacy.
He frowned. “What’s wrong? Did the noble prince say something?”
“No,” she said, just a bit too quickly, heat rushing to her face. She absolutely could not ever let him know that she was in an emotional spiral because she might actually…care about him. He’d just laugh at my pathetic human emotions, she thought. That, and he’d hold it over her for the rest of their time together.
He pursed his lips but didn’t push. “Dance with me.”
“Only if you say please.” Not that she expected he would. Peryn was nothing if not proud.
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, please dance with me, your most esteemed majesty. I would simply die in rapture if you would honor me with your presence and grace—”
“Yes, fine,” she snapped, though there was no bite to it. “Anything to get you to shut up.”
He took her hand and smirked. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Ria.”
“Hypocrite.”
As they made their way onto the dance floor, Ria took a moment to admire her companion from the corner of her eyes. In truth, he looked no more stunning in his formal wear than he did any other time. Peryn was always unfairly beautiful, but tonight—dressed impeccably as always in black, the sharp angles of his face amplified by the glowing candlelight—he looked otherworldly. Godly, almost, which was irony if Ria had ever heard it. And there was something about how his dark eyes never left her own that left her skin buzzing in a way that had very little to do with Peryn’s magic.
He pulled her into his arms with ease, one hand clasped in her own, the other resting low on her back. Only a great amount of self-discipline kept her from jumping at the touch. It was bizarrely intimate, once again the kind of thing the Helish people simply didn’t do in public. Ria was accustomed to Peryn’s disregard for personal space, but other people weren’t.
“People will think this is improper,” she said. He raised a brow, lip twitching at the corner.
“People?” he asked. “Or you?”
“I don’t want to be subject of court gossip—”
“As if you aren’t already.”
She ignored him. “Do you wish for Izan and the Council to speculate that I have already chosen to marry you? Because that is what they will assume.”
“I wish to indulge a little,” he openly admitted, and twirled her first away from him and then back into his arms. Ria leaned into his embrace, a touch dizzy. Everything around her seemed hazy; Peryn was the only thing in focus. “The wine is good, the night is warm, and you are radiant. I wish to dance with the woman I’m courting. Is that so terrible?”
“Peryn.” If she didn’t know any better, she’d have thought he was intoxicated. Can demons even get drunk?
“If you truly want me to stop, I will. You need only ask,” he said. When she rolled her eyes, but said nothing, he grinned. “Besides, this is the traditional style of dancing in Etheri.” At her startled look, he smiled. “What? Did you think I wouldn’t do my research?”
“I’m only surprised you were so thorough.” Peryn was no idiot; she didn’t think he would claim to be a lord from Etheri if he couldn’t somehow back it up. But there were times even she wasn’t sure which parts were an act and which weren’t. Moments when she would have believed he really was Lord Hollbrook from Etheri if she hadn’t summoned him in that forest herself.
He leaned in even closer, letting his breath tickle the side of her neck when he spoke. “Well, I had to be convincing, didn’t I, darling?”
She tried not to let him affect her too much. It was bad enough that she was already struggling with her very complicated feelings toward him; she didn’t need him to make the situation so much worse. Sometimes she wished he didn’t play his part quite so well because she couldn’t trust any inkling of feeling from him. She could never know for sure whether his charm and his compliments were honest, or if they were just part of the image he was crafting. Just part of this Lord Hollbrook persona he wore for the court.
But if it’s all an act, why keep it up with only you around? It’s not like you don’t know what he is. He has no reason to hide. She cut off her train of thought to preserve her sanity. She would drive herself mad if she tried to have this argument with herself now. Everything would be so much easier if I didn’t find him attractive.
“Something is bothering you,” he said after a moment. “You’re not arguing with me nearly as much as usual.”
“Izan i
s making threats.” It wasn’t exactly what she was thinking of right at this moment, but she had meant to discuss it with him nonetheless.
“I told you we should have killed him.” His voice was dangerously quiet, but Ria could feel the magic pooling under his skin, permeating the air around them. “What did he say?”
“He all but admitted that he had something to do with Keffleton’s death. And that if you and Feodor stick around much longer, you’ll meet the same fate.”
Peryn snorted. “Sloppy of him to show his hand. We won’t have to wait long now for him to make his move.”
“He’ll try to kill you,” she said, trying to impress the importance of this on him.
The demon raised a brow. “The key word being try. I can’t be killed by mortal means. Even his magic won’t do much.”
“But Izan—”
“Ria, darling, it’s rude to talk so much about another man while you’re dancing with me,” he teased. “If I were a mere mortal, I might even feel threatened.”
She let out a long-suffering sigh, only resisting the urge to swat at him because they were in public. “You’re incorrigible. I don’t know why I put up with you half the time.”
But when the song ended, and the orchestra started up with a different tune, Ria barely noticed; Peryn was already spinning her around the room again.
***
Ria kept her eye on the clock as she mingled. It was now so late that technically it could be considered early morning, and nearly half of the nobility had yet to retire for the evening. She was desperate to go to bed, but it had been all but impossible to escape when so many people still wanted to speak to her. Even the Council members had managed to slip off to bed an hour or so ago while she’d been entrapped in a stilted conversation with General Turco.
But the dancing was still going strong. Ria had begged off, too tired to bother with all the spinning, and twirling, and skipping about. Twenty years old, but I feel more like Vili’s age, she thought. Not that it stopped her eyes from continuously drifting to the dance floor. Peryn—apparently taking his role as Lord Hollbrook very seriously—was currently engaged in a dance with a slender, willowy woman that Ria didn’t recognize. One of the lords’ daughters, probably. The woman laughed at something he said. Ria tried very hard not to glare.
