I had lost count of the courses when two servants appeared with a platter that they placed directly in front of me. In the center was a large pie, as fat as a giant sea turtle. Everyone turned to stare as Ceren rose and came to stand behind me.
“I had this baked especially for you,” he said in my ear. “Do you like it?”
His right cheek brushed against my left, blocking my view of Talin. His skin was cool and smooth against my flushed skin. “Yes,” I said. “Thank you.”
Ceren took up the filigree serving fork and knife and cut carefully into the pastry on either side of me, the way you would for a child. He continued to cut in a wedge, and then he carefully pulled away the layer of crust. Something stirred in the dark recess, and everyone at the table leaned forward just a bit. I found myself wanting to press back, but I couldn’t with Ceren standing behind me.
“Patience,” he said.
A black, winged creature burst through the pastry with a shrill cry and flapped madly toward the ceiling.
“They’re birds!” someone shouted to a smattering of applause.
But I’d seen birds many times in my life, and they didn’t fly the way this creature did, erratic and unpredictable. A moment later, another one emerged, using the little claws at the tops of its leathery wings to work its way out.
“No, they’re bats!” a nobleman exclaimed, and there was a gasp of surprise from the crowd. A few women squeaked in horror.
After the second bat flew away, an entire swarm of them—at least twenty—clambered out of the pie, all flapping to be free. Several were covered in treacle, making it harder for them to fly. The wretched creatures rolled onto the table covered in the sticky golden syrup, sending howls of laughter up among the nobles. Most of the ladies screamed and ran from the table, and suddenly wineglasses were tumbling left and right.
Ceren stayed perfectly still, his arms on either side of me, trapping me in my chair.
The king had somehow managed to sleep through the commotion. The servants did their best to clear plates and spilled glasses while dodging and dipping to avoid the bats. A maid appeared behind us and whispered something inaudible in Ceren’s ear.
“I must attend to something. I’ll return as soon as possible,” he said. “I hope you enjoy your dessert.”
I slumped back in my chair the moment he left the room, finally releasing some of the tension I’d been feeling all evening.
“Are you all right?” Talin asked, gently flicking a sticky bat away from his wine.
I sighed. “I think so. What was that all about? Is bat pie a traditional Ilarean food?”
He snickered. “No. We may seem strange to you, but I assure you, we’re not that strange. I imagine my brother was trying to get a reaction from you.”
“Why?”
“He likes to push people, to test their loyalty.”
I stared at the collapsed crust of the pie. “My loyalty? I don’t exactly have a choice in the matter. I belong to him now.”
Talin drained his wine, but I didn’t get the sense it was because he relished the taste. “Yes, well. My advice is that the next time he shows you something vile or repulsive, you pretend to be impressed. That’s the fastest way to win his affection.”
I had no interest in Ceren’s affection, but I couldn’t tell Talin that. Still, it was probably safer to avoid making my betrothed into an enemy.
At the far end of the room, a man began to play a stringed instrument that made a sound I could only compare to whale song. Talin leaned toward me, and I had to resist the urge to move closer to him. “It’s called a viol,” he explained. “It was my mother’s favorite instrument.”
“We have some stringed instruments back home, but they sound very different.”
I noticed that his eyes lit up whenever I mentioned Varenia. “It’s nice to hear more about where my mother came from,” he said. “I miss her stories about Varenia. They made me feel connected to it, even though I’d never been there.”
“I enjoy talking about it. It makes everything feel more real, like this isn’t just a dream.” Or a nightmare, I added silently.
The music from the viol was faster now, and many of the lords and ladies joined together to dance. Talin smiled at me. “I’d ask you to dance, but I’m afraid you wouldn’t feel comfortable.”
“Thank you,” I said, both pleased that he wanted to dance with me and grateful he understood why I couldn’t. “I think I’ll just watch for a few minutes.”
Talin took my arm, and we walked to the end of the hall closer to the musician. A few of the ladies watched me and whispered behind their fans, no doubt gossiping. Spending time with Talin was dangerous in more ways than one, apparently.
“He uses a bow to strum the viol,” Talin said. “Of course, if I tried it would sound like a dying cat, but a skilled musician can make the most beautiful music you’ve ever heard.”
The dancers had picked up their pace in time with the music. They moved in a circle, hands clasped. We’d had dances in the meetinghouse in Varenia sometimes, though Zadie and I hadn’t been allowed to dance with the boys since we were children.
Talin glanced down at me. “Would you like to try, now that you have a better sense of the steps?”
I caught the eye of a woman standing across the room. There was something about her that was both familiar and foreign at the same time. Despite her rich clothing and intricate hairstyle, she seemed as out of place here as I felt. She observed me for a moment, then let her eyes rest on Talin’s arm, still entwined with mine, and gave the tiniest shake of her head.
“I’m not sure it’s appropriate,” I said finally.
“For some reason you don’t strike me as the kind of girl who worries about propriety.”
My stomach twisted. Now I was sure he’d heard Sami and me that night in the governor’s house; that he recognized me despite my fancy clothes and rehearsed manners. But he was right. I wanted to dance with him.
Without waiting for my answer, Talin led me to the center of the room. Another noble took my free hand, and as the viol continued to play, we moved in a slow circle to the right. I tried to copy what the other dancers did, but I couldn’t seem to catch the rhythm. Fortunately, the men supported my weight so that it hardly mattered what my feet did.
As the beat quickened, we began to move faster and faster. The bats looped down from wherever they’d roosted, illuminated by the massive chandelier filled with lunar moss. Tonight would be the full moon, I realized. That explained why everything was so bright.
The wine I’d consumed with dinner was beginning to take hold. I looked over at Talin. He was watching me with a smile on his face, the kind of smile that could make a girl forget about being ladylike. I felt warm all over, my heart pounding beneath the diamond cutout in my bodice.
Perhaps this was why Mother hadn’t wanted us to dance.
The music was playing faster than ever now, and somehow my feet seemed to know the steps on their own. I tipped my head back and laughed, so dizzy that I was sure the room would keep spinning long after I stopped. We whirled and whirled until suddenly, the music stopped, and I found myself clinging to Talin’s doublet to keep from falling.
“I’m sorry,” I said as his face came into focus.
“Don’t be.”
The muscles of his chest strained under my palms as he caught his breath, and I became very aware of his hands at my waist as I struggled for air against the stays of my bodice. He felt so solid and safe that I momentarily forgot my surroundings. Slowly, I leaned closer to him, like a tide pulled by the moon.
“See, my lady? This isn’t just a dream.”
My cheeks flamed under his gaze. “Isn’t it?”
Ceren’s voice over my shoulder cleared my head instantly. “There you are, my pearl.”
I whirled around and dropped into a curtsy. “Your Hi
ghness.”
His smile was strained. “It’s late, and I believe you’ve had a bit too much wine.” He held out his arm for me expectantly.
I nodded and bobbed a quick curtsy to Talin. “Good night.”
He bowed, his hair falling in damp waves that reminded me of the night we’d met. “Good night, my lady. I’m sorry you can’t stay longer.”
So am I. For an instant, I wished he would tell his brother the truth about who I was, so that Ceren couldn’t marry me. But Ceren’s pull on my arm was firm and insistent, and as I walked away, I realized the part of me that wanted to stay was the part I would never be able to listen to again.
16
Ceren’s grip tightened as he pulled me down the hall toward my chambers. “What were you thinking?” he demanded when we reached my door. “Dancing with my brother in front of everyone, before you’ve even danced with me?”
“I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I didn’t know. He told me—”
“I don’t care what he told you. Has all that seawater pickled your brain? Surely you could see the way people were watching you.”
My head was beginning to pound from the wine, and my arm ached from where Ceren’s hand still grasped it. He saw me wincing and released my arm. I took a step backward. I wanted to hurt him the way he’d hurt me, but I needed to imagine I was Zadie now, to behave the way Mother would expect me to. Otherwise I’d get myself killed before I did anything useful.
I bowed my head. “Please, forgive me.”
He released a deep breath through his nose. “I suppose it’s not your fault. Though I did warn you about my brother.”
I nodded. “You did. I understand what you meant now. I’ll be more cautious in the future.”
He took my hands in his. “Are you cold? Your fingers are like ice.”
I blinked at the change in his tone. It was fear, not cold, that so froze my hands, but I didn’t want him to think I was weak. “I left my wrap in the ballroom. I’ll ask Ebb to bring it for me later.”
“Very well. I’ll leave you now. Good night, my lady.”
“Good night.”
I hurried into my room, where Ebb was laying out my nightgown on the bed.
“Are you all right, milady?” she asked when she saw my face. “Did something happen?”
“I did something foolish and paid the price for it. I’ll know better next time.” I took a seat on the stool in front of the vanity, and she began to unpin my hair. As she massaged my scalp, I felt some of my fear begin to drain away. Ceren hadn’t actually done anything to me, and I could imagine it had looked rather bad, me dancing with his brother while he was away.
“Why don’t the princes get along?” I asked. “Did something happen between them?”
Ebb glanced at the small hole in the wall nervously.
I found a handkerchief and stuffed it into the opening. “Better?”
She sighed and waved me back down onto the stool. “From what I’ve heard, Prince Ceren was always a difficult child. His mother, Queen Serena, may she rest in peace, was a beautiful Ilarean lady who King Xyrus had loved from an early age. But Serena was frail and fragile, and Xyrus’s father, King Lazar, urged Xyrus to choose a Varenian bride, despite not marrying one himself.”
King Lazar would have been the king who refused to marry the replacement girl from Varenia—the man who’d cut off our water supply. I raised an eyebrow at her in the mirror. “What became of the Varenian girl sent to marry Lazar?”
She glanced down. “It’s not my place to say.”
My stomach soured. Ceren had said it didn’t go well for queens at New Castle. I couldn’t imagine a rejected princess had fared any better.
“Anyway,” Ebb continued, “King Xyrus defied his parents’ wishes and married Serena, who died while giving birth to Ceren. A year later, he married Queen Talia, who’d been living as a lady in the castle.”
“But why was Talia sent here in the first place, if Xyrus was already in love with Serena?” I asked.
“To tempt Xyrus away from her, I believe. Lazar’s fear—that Serena wouldn’t survive childbirth—had been well-founded. But everything seemed better after King Xyrus married Queen Talia and she gave birth to Prince Talin. Even the king’s health seemed to improve. She was a kind and generous queen, often visiting the poorest villagers and offering them food and blankets.”
“So she was allowed to leave New Castle?” I asked, surprised.
“Of course, milady. The king loved her so much he would have let her go anywhere.”
“And Varenia? Would he have allowed her to go there?”
Ebb shook her head as she dropped the hairpins into a little porcelain dish. “Oh, no. The king is very superstitious about Varenia. All the nobility are. Except Prince Talin.”
That must have been why Talin was the one who traveled to Varenia for Ceren. “Why?”
“Because of Princess Ilara.”
“But that’s ridiculous. She died hundreds of years ago.” I remembered the way Ebb had held her breath over the bridge. “Is that why you’re afraid of water? Because Ilara drowned?”
“I’m not afraid of water,” she said, bristling. “Not small amounts of it, anyway. But large bodies of water are best avoided. Everyone in Ilara knows that. I had a little cousin who died chasing a ball that rolled into a lake.”
“And you think the water spirits took her?”
“Of course, milady. What else?”
Most likely the child had drowned because she didn’t know how to swim. In Varenia, we were literally born in the water. Fearing the ocean would be akin to fearing the air we breathed. But the story of Princess Ilara was deeply enmeshed in Varenian culture, even now. I supposed it was only natural that would be the same here, in Ilara itself.
“Who raised Ceren after his mother died?”
“It was his nursemaids, mostly, though the queen did spend time with him. She wouldn’t let anyone else take care of Talin, though. She was with him all throughout his childhood. I’ve never seen a son more loved by his mother.”
That explained Ceren’s jealousy. He had grown up without a mother, while his brother had Talia. I felt a twinge of sympathy for Ceren. “Thank you for telling me this, Ebb.”
“Of course, milady.” She finished helping me into my nightgown and tied my hair into a loose braid. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“There was a woman in the dining hall tonight. She looked familiar.” I could tell from the fear in Ebb’s eyes that I had stumbled back upon the subject she wished to avoid. “She was the rejected Varenian girl, wasn’t she?”
Ebb sighed, looking at the hole in the wall again. “Yes. Her name is Lady Melina.”
So Melina was the replacement girl, the one who’d caused the Varenians to be punished two generations ago, when all those children died of thirst. Ceren’s grandfather, King Lazar, had not married her, and yet she was still here, forty years later.
“I would like to speak with her,” I said carefully. “Can you arrange for us to meet?”
Ebb looked doubtful. “I can try, but I should warn you—Prince Ceren has never liked Lady Melina.”
“Why not?”
“He finds her presence at court...distasteful.”
My face grew hot with anger. “Why? Because she’s Varenian?”
Ebb shook her head and came to kneel before me. “No, milady.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Because she was King Lazar’s mistress.”
My anger soured to disgust. Melina han’t been good enough to be queen, but she’d been good enough to warm the king’s bed? “That’s hardly a reflection on her. I want to meet her. As soon as possible.”
Ebb chewed on her thin lower lip. “I can try, but it won’t be easy. She keeps to the shadows. Sometimes she’ll appear when you had no idea she was even in the room.”
>
If Lady Melina kept to the shadows, then perhaps that was where I’d have to meet her. “We’ll meet somewhere inconspicuous, when the prince is busy. I promise I’ll be careful.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I only want what’s best for you.”
I leaned down so she would have to look me in the eye. “And you think Prince Ceren is what’s best for me?”
Ebb flushed. “I think not angering him is what’s best, milady.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
After Ebb left, I lowered the tiny curtains that hung over the alcoves where the lunar moss was placed in glass lanterns. It was too bright in here for sleep, and the light illuminated the strange creatures woven into the tapestries and carved into the wood.
I picked up one of the lanterns and held it up to the tapestry closest to my bed. What I’d thought was an amorphous blob was actually a lake, embroidered with tiny blue stitches. A young woman perched on a rock near the water, combing her hair. Something dark and serpentine lingered below the surface of the water. It had a human’s head, but its mouth was filled with sharp teeth.
A loud knock on the door nearly caused me to drop the lantern. I laughed at myself for being so jumpy and set the lantern back down in its alcove. I was still smiling when I opened the door, assuming Ebb had forgotten something. But it was Ceren who waited on my threshold, his face as pale as candlewax against the darkness of the corridor.
“Your Highness,” I said, dropping into a curtsy. “What are you doing here?”
He walked past me into the room, closing the door behind him. “Your wrap.” He handed me the fur capelet I’d left in the dining hall.
“Thank you,” I said, pressing it to my chest to cover the thin fabric of my nightdress.
Ceren pulled back one of the curtains I had lowered, illuminating the room in the eerie blue light. “It’s a full moon,” he said absently. “They say strange things happen during the full moon.”
Crown of Coral and Pearl Page 17
