by Coco Ma
“I hate to interrupt,” Rose said, “but the carriage is due to arrive in a few minutes. And the sooner we get back on the ground, the better. We’ve caused enough commotion already. Hopefully no one saw that, as heroic as it was.”
Harry nodded. “Let’s go.”
Orion looked at Harry with a strange gleam in his eyes. “I could kiss you right now, you know that?”
Harry’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, ears flaming scarlet. “Seriously? I—I mean, if you really want to—”
Rose smacked herself in the forehead. “Immortals. Can’t you people take a hint about when not to flirt?” Without another word, she stalked off toward the fire escape on the side of the hotel, shaking her head, and descended.
Everyone except Quinlan stared after her in stunned silence.
He sighed. “Sorry about that. She’s been like that since Kane.”
“Kane …” Luna trailed off. “He’s the one that got Rose expelled, right? From the Academia Principalis?”
Quinlan’s brow furrowed in surprise. “How did you know that?” Kane was a very sensitive subject that only came up when he made the mistake of even mentioning the name. He couldn’t imagine Rose talking about him.
Luna glanced at Eadric. “She didn’t tell us his name specifically, but she told us that she helped a classmate on his final examination. Twice. You could see it in her eyes that she loved him.” His face must have shown his disbelief, because Luna held her hands up defensively. “I know it sounds sappy, but it’s true.”
A long moment passed. At last, he admitted, “I think she still loves him, after all this time. I don’t know why she hasn’t done anything about it, though.”
“Kane must have known that Rose would be expelled for helping him,” Luna reasoned. “He knew that they would be separated. And instead of trying to pass on his own merit, he put himself before them, not once, but twice. If that didn’t prove to her how little he valued their relationship, I don’t know what would.”
Quinlan blinked at her, suddenly ashamed that her conclusion had never so much as occurred to him, even after all this time.
“All of us have someone we’re ready to sacrifice anything for,” Luna went on. “Someone we’re willing to protect, no matter the cost. And most of the time, others don’t realize the lengths we’re willing to go. Sometimes, we don’t even realize it ourselves, until the moment it matters most.” Eadric wrapped an arm around her waist, smiling at her.
But Luna wasn’t looking at the captain.
Instead, her eyes flicked to Quinlan’s. “Don’t we?” she asked.
Quinlan stared at her, into the eyes that were so very much her mother’s, and yet entirely her own. Understanding sparked in his chest. “Yes,” he answered softly, turning from her to look at Asterin. “I suppose we do.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
The tightness in her throat had long eased by the time Rose scaled down the building and strolled toward the door marked Deliveries. She found Laurel sitting on a barrel, swinging her legs and whistling a sea shanty. The package with the dress—and shoes, she would later discover—rested in the Elite’s lap. Rose had hardly accepted the package by the time the Elite was flitting around the corner and out of sight with nothing more than a quick wink.
With the package in her arms, Rose slipped into the private toilets by the lobby. Once changed, she loitered by the sinks for a few minutes until she heard Quinlan’s knock and emerged. Her three escorts surrounded her protectively—Harry and Luna had concealed themselves elsewhere, and Eadric was long gone.
As one, the rest of them made their way to the reception.
The concierge immediately fixed her attention on them, peering over a delicate pair of half-moon spectacles. “Good evening. How may I help you?”
“Her Royal Majesty of Eradore has a carriage scheduled for six o’clock,” Quinlan replied gruffly.
The concierge bowed respectfully to Rose. “Certainly. It is our great honor to receive your presence, Your Royal Majesty. Your carriage is already waiting outside, though of course you may leave at your leisure. Should Your Majesty desire anything else from us at all, please do not hesitate to ask.”
There were a lot of things she desired, like a steaming hot bath, but they were running short on time. So instead, Rose thanked the woman and nodded to Quinlan.
Asterin and Orion flanked her sides as Quinlan led the way out of the hotel and to the waiting carriage. Rose couldn’t help but ogle at it, the exterior dusted in swirls of silver and green for the House of the Serpent and bedecked with a league’s worth of silk ribbons and fresh flowers. And that wasn’t even mentioning the six handsome white stallions drawing the carriage, or the coachman and two footmen.
“Isn’t this a little excessive?” Rose said as Asterin helped her up into the carriage.
Orion winked. “It is your first public appearance. Might as well enjoy it.”
Once they were all seated among the plump velvet cushions, a whip cracked and the carriage lurched forward. Hopefully, Luna and Harry had safely hidden themselves in the carriage’s luggage compartment when the footmen hadn’t been looking. If all went to plan, the two would sneak out of the compartment just before they reached the Wall, where the guards would perform inspection.
The rattling of the wheels reverberated in Rose’s bones as they swung onto the west road which divided the trade and entertainment districts, the more upscale shops and boutiques of Axaris lining one side and the Pavilion hugging the other. Three theaters, an opera house, and an enormous concert hall made up Axaris’s most popular destination for the arts. The music of street performers drifted into the carriage, and Rose gave into the temptation to draw back the lacy curtains and peek out of the window, catching a glimpse of masked actors in the middle of a sword fight on a makeshift outdoor stage. She felt eyes on the carriage and reluctantly drew the curtains closed. While it certainly wasn’t the only vehicle on the road, none could have outdone six horses, Immortals help her.
Dinner at the ball was to be served at seven thirty. At eight, Harry and Luna would meet with Garringsford. At eight thirty, after collecting Grey from Alicia’s uncle, Eadric would thunder back to the palace. The moment he arrived at the base of the mountain, he would send the signal—a blast of lightning powerful enough to light the ballroom white.
And then the show would begin.
Quinlan’s knee bounced to some beat in his head, his eyes closed and head resting on the back of his seat. Orion sat next to him, nibbling at his lower lip and drumming his fingers against the carriage door in time with Quinlan’s knee. Beside Rose, Asterin brooded in gray-clouded silence.
Rose’s stomach twisted as the carriage eased to a halt. She tugged the corner of the curtain to find the mountain looming high up before them. The guards had heaved open the iron gates at its base to admit the near-constant stream of guests. Here, the guards would check the guest list and detain anyone that appeared suspicious.
A familiar brown-haired guard appeared at the carriage window, saluting. Carlsby, Rose realized, the handsome sentry Orion had favored at the beginning of their journey. She glanced at Orion to gauge his reaction, but the disguised Guardian now only spared him a genuinely uninterested glance.
“Queen Orozalia Saville of Eradore,” Quinlan said to Carlsby.
Carlsby bowed and smiled brightly before directing their carriage into the right of two lanes. The left lane teemed with carriages crawling up the mountain at a snail’s pace, presumably for lesser nobility and other guests. Rose’s carriage passed all of them.
The power of the wards swept over Rose in a sudden rush of head-spinning vertigo. They must have been reinforced recently—with good reason, of course. Luckily for them, the wards allowed illusionary magic. According to Asterin, too many royals had too many wrinkles to conceal for it to be banned.
Engrossed in her worrying fo
r Luna and Harry, Rose didn’t even realize they had reached the Wall until the carriage came to a halt. Her pulse quickened as the luggage compartment hissed open. One guard checked the carriage’s underbelly. The compartment slammed shut a moment later, and to Rose’s relief, another guard waved them onward, past an extravagant display of potted red hydrangeas and Axarian poppies arranged in the outline of the Axarian crest.
It wasn’t long before the door on Rose’s side opened to reveal a crisply dressed butler with a curling, snow-white mustache. A ruby brooch of a wolf head sparkled on his tuxedo lapel, the only splash of color amidst his otherwise pristine ensemble.
“Welcome to Axaris, Your Royal Majesty of Eradore,” he said with a deep bow. He extended an arm to her. “May I?”
“Thank you.” She took it daintily and he helped her down, her entourage piling out after her. The butler released her, one white-gloved hand clasped behind his back, and then gestured for her to continue up the steps.
“Come, guards,” Rose commanded. Quinlan immediately went to her elbow, escorting her past the row of soldiers lining the stairs while Asterin and Orion followed quickly behind.
Rose could hardly believe her eyes as they ascended the steps. The entrance hall was nearly unrecognizable beneath the hundreds of blooming garlands and wreaths and bouquets, perfuming the air with an artful combination of sweet fragrances. Luminous glass orbs filled with purple and fiery orange-red blossoms for which Rose had no name hung from the ceiling like a celestial galaxy, illuminated by the golden flames of a thousand candles.
Guests clustered in the hall, milling about and enjoying glasses of champagne while eyeing the newcomers. Every pair of eyes locked on her, glowing predatorily in the candlelight.
With every word you speak, every step you take, every person you smile at, remember that you will one day be Queen of Eradore, her mother’s voice echoed in her mind.
And now she was. She had to act experienced, even though it was her first time attending an event outside of her kingdom without her mother by her side. Gaucherie and lack of social grace were out of the question. Mistakes would be blown to excessive proportions, and she’d learned the hard way that gossip spread like wildfire among royals. But if she played her cards just right …
Rose hid a wicked smile.
She was going to manipulate the ever-loving hell out of these people.
Rose led her entourage through another corridor, following the flowers and the sound of laughter and music. Asterin and Orion flanked her while Quinlan brought up the rear, guarding her from all sides but the front. Eventually, the corridor opened into a massive chamber with a domed glass ceiling.
Four guards saluted them as they approached the large double doors that led to the ballroom, two of them friendly faces—Hayley and Jack, looking splendid in their full dress uniforms.
Jack’s eyes widened ever so slightly, a dumbfounded smile inching onto his face. “Good evening.”
“May I take your cloak?” Hayley asked, feigning ignorance.
Rose nodded and Asterin and Orion stepped forward to lift her cloak off her shoulders. Carefully, she watched for some sort of reaction, but neither Jack nor Hayley paid the slightest attention to the princess or her Guardian.
“Have a wonderful time,” Jack wished Rose with a conspiratorial wink, and the grand doors swung open.
Feeling more than a little bit wobbly in her heels, Rose glided through. She held back a gasp of delight as they emerged onto a balcony of gilded ivory overlooking the ballroom with a staircase leading down to the main floor. Below, the hall brimmed with guests, awash with color and light. More candles hung just beneath the high ceiling, bathing everything in a soft golden glow. From a raised stage on their left drifted the sounds of a cheerful waltz, flitting between bursts of laughter and unintelligible babble like a flock of twittering birds. Jewels and gems glinted from all directions, worn on bodies or stitched onto dresses of every color imaginable, and dancers twirled around the room like flower petals carried by a wayward wind.
Straight ahead, at the opposite end of the ballroom, Queen Priscilla held court atop a makeshift dais. Asterin stiffened but showed not the slightest emotion otherwise.
The herald took one look at Rose and blew loudly into his horn. “Her Royal Majesty, Queen Orozalia Saville of Eradore and the House of the Serpent!” he declared.
Conversation ceased. If Rose hadn’t been struggling to ignore the anxiety bearing upon her, she might have snickered at the simultaneous swivel of every head in the room.
There was an awkward cough from the orchestra’s conductor. Music sheets shuffled, and then, with a wave of his baton, the orchestra launched into the Eradorian anthem.
Court lessons swirled in Rose’s head as she took her first step down the stairs, chin raised. The entire room drew in a collective breath.
Kick, step. Kick, step.
Lady Anthea’s etiquette lectures rang in her ears. Lady Anthea, with her perfect lipstick and perfect posture and perfect manners. Never lift your skirts above the ankles. Look directly ahead. Shoulders back, chest raised—not that raised, you fool.
Immortals, how she had despised Lady Anthea. Actually, she still did.
Her gown trailed down the stairs like a waterfall of diamonds as she continued her descent to the melody of a single trumpet, and she wondered how people would react if she tripped. She thanked the Immortals when she made it to the main floor without mishap. Her eyes flicked to the Queen of Axaria, who watched her approach with avid interest in those teal eyes.
What sort of dark sorcery had Garringsford cast upon her?
Kick, step. Kick, step.
The words became her mantra while Rose promenaded down the seemingly mile-long hall as if she had all the time in the world. Violins swelled over a tide of cellos. The crowd backed away at her approach, clearing a path to the dais. It was tradition for royalty to personally greet their host, so Rose made Priscilla her destination. Kick, step.
Hundreds of stares bore down upon her, setting her skin afire, sizing her up—many undoubtedly debating whether it would be worthwhile to take the pains of cultivating an alliance with her, the very new and very young queen of what was nonetheless a very powerful kingdom.
Frankly put, Rose was terrified. Her stomach lurched with every movement and her heart raced, thumping in her throat. She prayed it wasn’t audible, because she could certainly hear it.
She forced a slow breath into her lungs, skin still tingling. Come on, Rose.
As the orchestra crescendoed, she found the pulse of the music, each leisurely step filled with purpose and falling in rhythmic harmony with her country’s anthem. The skirts of her dress swayed to the soaring melody, each bead catching the light and reflecting it around the ballroom like a twilight sky brimming with stars and suns and fire.
The Queen of Axaria smiled indulgently, rising from her throne as Rose counted down the number of strides it would take to reach her. She tried not to shrink beneath the woman’s scrutiny, her customary hood no longer hiding who she truly was.
The serpent and the peacock—two queens of two very different kingdoms.
Rose met Priscilla’s gaze head on.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Harry looked like a piece of grass.
Or, rather, Luna had made him look like a piece of grass. Or just grass in general, since when he stared down at himself that was all he saw. He couldn’t see any part of his body, not even when he waved his hand directly in front of his face—or, at least, what he assumed was his hand. And, of course, that would only be the case if what he hoped was his face was actually his face, and if that were so, then—
“Stop thinking about it, Harry,” Luna mumbled.
“I wasn’t,” said Harry, glancing up at the Wall rising ahead. Rose’s carriage had passed beneath a few minutes earlier.
“Fine. But in case you
were,” said Luna, “I just wanted to let you know that I can’t see you. At all.”
Harry was used to blending into the shadows—literally—so it wasn’t that weird. But this was different. This was grass, apparently.
“Are your knees okay?” he asked. When they had broken out of Rose’s luggage compartment, while Harry landed like a cat, Luna had scraped her knees against the road. Luckily, no carriages followed Rose’s in the right lane, and no one in the left lane seemed to have noticed the trunk open for two people to tumble out.
“I’ll survive.”
“Sorry,” said Harry. Unlike mortal magic wielders, he didn’t have the capability to heal anyone other than himself.
“Stop apologizing. Just remember not to move too abruptly,” Luna reminded him. Sudden movements would only make it that much harder for her to maintain their guises.
“You can get us past the Wall, right?” They had a little more than a quarter of the way to go up the mountain before they reached the Wall.
“Yes.” A nervous pause. “Probably. All right, slowly now.”
Together, they crept along the side of the road, crawling on all fours through the grass. Harry watched the carriages in the left lane, as sluggish as they were, pass one by one.
“We need to move faster,” he said.
“Okay,” Luna whispered. “Stand up. One step at a time now.”
Harry couldn’t see the girl, but he could taste her fear as they prowled closer to the Wall—the salty tang of the sweat trickling down her neck. He could hear her heartbeat quickening tenfold, each inhale more raspy than the last. But still—still, Luna persisted.
Finally they made it to the crest of the mountain, the gated entrance to the Wall just fifty paces away. Beyond lay what must have been the palace gardens. Harry narrowed his eyes at the soldiers patrolling the ramparts above, and the dozen soldiers standing guard at the gate itself. Six guards checked the luggage trunks of three carriages at a time, two per carriage.
“We have to get past all those guards first,” Harry whispered as the carriages passed inspection and moved onward.
