“You’ve worked with him long enough to trust him, correct?”
“He’s saved my life many times.”
“Then continue to trust him. And me.”
“Always. Even though you aren’t blood, you feel like family. When I was little, I thought you and Roland were both my uncles instead of just him.”
“Thank you.” He stared at the table, his face like stone.
With a sigh, Katya wished she could take back the forbidden word: Roland. Her stomach burned with resentment. She was old enough to protect her family, to maintain a secret identity, but not to know what had happened to the former leader of the Order, her uncle—Maia’s father—a man Katya had loved as a second father. “He’s been dead seven years.”
Crowe shook his head and didn’t speak. He’d headed the Order until Katya turned sixteen; he knew the pressure, the terrible weight of secrets, and still he didn’t share.
Katya gave up. Crowe could be as tight-lipped as a corpse when he wanted to be. “See you tomorrow.” He nodded, and she took the secret passageway back to her room.
Averie greeted her with an impish grin. Dressed in a high-necked blue dress with Katya’s hawk and rose on the hip, Averie still had the grace of a hunter as she moved about the room. “Don’t worry. The guards drove the eager hopefuls off before they even got close to the pyramid traps.”
“How many?”
“Three. Four if you count Lady Hilda. Our gorgeous redhead hasn’t given up; it seems she likes the chase.”
“I suppose that’s flattering,” Katya said; a fleeting recollection of Starbride played in her memory. “What did the others look like?”
“Oho, do you care all of a sudden?”
“It’s only ego.”
Averie described the suitors based on what she’d heard; there was no hint of an Allusian. Katya shrugged, but Averie nodded slowly, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Not who you were hoping for? Do tell.”
“Won’t.” Katya grinned as her lady-in-waiting set a plate of cheese and cutlets on the table beside her. “I take back every bad thing I’ve ever said about you, jewel of my heart.” She bit into a slice of roast beef and closed her eyes in bliss. “I just realized I skipped breakfast.”
“I’ll fetch you a glass of wine.”
“I might abdicate to you if you keep this up.”
“Keep the crown. I’m holding the cake in reserve until you promise to give me your jewelry.”
“Take what you like. I saw the coat you had made for the Courtiers Ball, by the way. It’s genius.”
“And the sapphires I found will go lovely with your eyes.”
“When are we getting married?”
“I don’t marry titles. You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that.”
Katya attacked the rest of her lunch as Averie brought her wine; her thoughts wandered to the task in front of her. She ruled out everyone in the Order as the palace traitor; she couldn’t point fingers at her team. Crowe would have censured her, but Katya couldn’t work with them if she didn’t trust them. Was that how Uncle Roland had died, betrayed by someone he should have been able to trust?
As Katya sipped her wine, the encounter with Starbride flitted past her mind’s eye. It’d been nice to be a face in the crowd, a guardswoman who could flirt with impunity, free to give directions to a lost courtier. Of course, Starbride would be at the Courtiers Ball—all of the courtiers and nobles would. They all wanted something, and a ball was the perfect place to continue their petitions. But what did Starbride want? When she’d found out who Katya was, she hadn’t taken the opportunity to turn on the charm or plead her case. And out of all the years new courtiers had been coming to the palace, Katya never heard of one wanting the library before anything else.
Starbride could be a wallflower, she supposed. Courtiers could be shy, but a shy girl would’ve hidden in her room; she would’ve clammed up when meeting a stranger. A shy girl would have keeled over when Katya threatened to lop off her head. Starbride had even seemed a little offended.
The idea was…intriguing. It reminded her of her brother Reinholt, who’d chosen the courtier no one expected as his future queen. Brom’s background was impeccable; it was an excellent match but still unexpected. Brom was plump and cute; she had a laugh that could cheer anyone. All the courtiers liked her because none of them thought of her as a threat. They didn’t know that Reinholt valued her sweet disposition more than anything, or that he wooed her in private. Brom could keep secrets, and if Katya’s unassuming sister-in-law could remain a mystery, anyone could.
Katya stood and pulled her arms over her head until her shoulders popped. She hadn’t recognized the Shadow, but she didn’t know everyone at court. Either he hadn’t recognized her or his brain couldn’t wrap itself around the princess chasing traitors through the woods. He might not live in the palace, but he knew one of his fellow conspirators had palace connections. Katya paced over her sitting room rug. All she could do now was keep the eyes of court on her while her team did its job and then run the traitor to ground once they sniffed him out.
With that in mind, Katya wandered. Through the halls of the palace, she languished, boredom as moving art. Whenever she found a group of hall-lingerers, she complained about not being able to go out hunting because she had to be presentable at the Courtiers Ball that evening.
The courtiers and nobles put on sympathetic expressions. Some of the ladies leaned close, their wispy, layered dresses whispering across the backs of Katya’s hands. It made her recall Starbride’s dress, more layered than all of them, and led to thoughts of Starbride’s mother. Katya hid her smiles behind yawns.
When Lady Hilda turned the corner down the hall, Katya almost groaned. The courtiers gave way like sand before the tide at Lady Hilda’s green-eyed glance. Their pinched expressions said they didn’t want to yield, but something in Lady Hilda’s sensuous walk spoke of danger as well as sex.
“Lady Hilda.”
“Good afternoon, Highness.” She curtsied low enough to display a great deal of cleavage. After a quick glance, Katya told her eyes to behave. “I’ve come to reserve my dance.”
“Reserve your dance?”
“This evening at the Courtiers Ball. I assumed that was what you were doing.” She cast a glance at the men and women who’d given them a bit of space. “Arranging dances.”
“I’ve never bothered to make reservations before.”
“Well, allow me to introduce you to the concept. It’s sure to be the new trend. Dance the evening away with me, and I’ll promise you a wonderful time.”
In the past, it would have been tempting, but Starbride’s self-mocking sense of humor kept surfacing in Katya’s mind. Besides that, Lady Hilda’s shamelessness made her edgy. It might have turned her on years ago, but now she could see that Lady Hilda’s entire posture spoke of need, lust mixed with desire for power. Katya put on a crooked grin and cursed the fact that she had a part to play.
She took Lady Hilda’s quite close hand and raised it to her lips. “I never make promises, and so I never expect them to be kept. All I can say is if I see you there, I see you there.”
Lady Hilda chuckled, a low, smoky sound in the back of her throat. “Oh, you’ll see me. And I always keep my promises.” She backed away, gave another one of those eye-towing curtsies, and then slinked back the way she’d come, leaving Katya’s other admirers to crash back together in her wake. They didn’t dare laugh behind Lady Hilda’s back, not yet, not until they knew how Katya felt. She didn’t give them any indication, as usual. She put her bored face on and wandered, letting all the talk wash over her and waiting for anything interesting to surface.
A small gathering of people congregated in the middle of one hallway. They talked excitedly, and not for her, though she caused the babble to swell for a moment. Her hangers-on were only too happy to inform her that the king was soon to be passing that way. He usually went from the function of the moment through the secret passageways to his apartment, but Katya
knew an appearance now and again in the hallways helped spread goodwill amongst the nobles and courtiers.
Katya mingled with the knot of people and surveyed the crowd, hoping to pick out any grumbling about the Umbriels. She fixed on one man who didn’t chatter but watched the hallway with a hard look, an intense anticipation that turned Katya’s stomach to ice.
She passed behind the rest of the waiting crowd and glanced at him now and again, keeping her bored face on tight. She put off any who tried to speak to her with a wave. Down the hall, her father turned the corner. Cassock-clad pyradistés, Crowe included, surrounded him. Da spoke with various nobles as he strolled. He received their bows with a nod and clapped Earl Lamont on the shoulder, laughing loudly at something the old man said.
Katya’s glance darted to the cold-eyed courtier. A pyramid glimmered in his fist. The sides were uneven and cloudy, not well made, but well enough to perform one task. The courtier grasped it and stared at Katya’s father without blinking.
Anger brewed in Katya’s chest, and she almost dropped her mask. This man dared to attack her father in his own hall? Her pyramid necklace flared as her anger grew, and down the hall, Crowe’s head lifted. His eyes found Katya’s, and she nodded toward the pyramid-wielding courtier. Crowe’s right hand dropped to the split in his cassock, and Katya knew he was pulling a pyramid from his trouser pocket. He pushed toward her through the chattering crowd that pressed her father.
Katya continued toward the courtier. She stopped just behind him and forced herself to calm down. “Lovely day for it, don’t you think?” she said in his ear.
He jumped and nearly whirled, but she caught his arm, keeping him still. “What…what?”
Katya dug into the flesh of his upper arm until he gasped. “Keep still, and you might get out of here alive.”
He shivered. “I knew it might mean my life, but people have to know.”
“What?” Katya’s free hand inched toward the pyramid. “What do they have to know?”
“The Aspect. They’re not human. The Umbriels are monsters!” He said the last part in a strangled whisper as he turned to look at Katya. “You…”
She reached the pyramid, but he jerked away. Crowe arrived and grabbed for him, but he leaned far to the left and rammed his pyramid into his own belly.
The king had nearly reached them. Someone bumped into Crowe, and he dropped the suddenly limp courtier to the ground. Katya stepped forward, over the downed man, shielding him from the view of the crowd as Crowe bent over him. “Fetch this man some help!” she commanded.
The courtiers and nobles turned. “What’s wrong with the poor devil?” Da asked.
“He needs a physician!” Crowe said. The courtier was at his feet, unmoving, doubled over with one arm shielding his face. “He’s overcome. Where have all the damned servants gone?”
“Never around when you need them,” Katya drawled. A few people chuckled with her. No servants were a blessing. If the courtier was dead, any regular servant might panic.
Crowe gestured to two of his fellow pyradistés. “Let’s take him to my study.” The selected two stooped beside the downed man and lifted him.
“Perhaps it’s the excitement,” Earl Lamont said. The pyradistés bore the man away, Crowe right behind them.
“Yes.” Da glanced at Katya out of the corner of his eye. “That must be it.”
Katya shrugged and put her bored face back on through force of will. The downed courtier knew about the Aspect. He knew Katya’s family shared something with Yanchasa, if not why. To control a monster, each Umbriel had to become one. But how did he know? She wanted to run to Crowe’s office.
Da caught her shoulder. “Remember the ball,” he whispered. “You have many duties. Leave Crowe to his.”
Katya could only nod. The Order would have to wait, it seemed. After all, she had a very important dance to attend first.
Chapter Four: Starbride
Dawnmother stood back and fluffed the voluminous gown. “This is one of the best.”
Starbride made a face as she studied the dress, this one a mixture of smoky browns. “I look like milky tea.”
“It goes with your skin.”
“Red goes with my skin. This goes with a cake.”
Dawnmother’s eyes twinkled. “I think cinnamon coffee is a better fit.”
Starbride put on her best withering look. “I’m glad you’re having a good time.”
“Don’t be so gloomy. You might get a chance to speak with the royal family…again.”
“Oh yes, I’m sure Princess Katyarianna will have a lot of fun at my expense.”
“You told me she wasn’t laughing at you.”
“I don’t know, do I?” But she could guess, and what she guessed hurt more than the chance of ridicule. Katyarianna Nar Umbriel would ignore her, or worse yet, not remember her.
“Cling to the wall,” Dawnmother said. “There’s bound to be more than one person who doesn’t fit in. Maybe you can form an alliance of the unallied.”
“Unless the other misfits are dying to prove they aren’t misfits by standing at the edges of conversations and trying to look as if they’re part of them. I’ll probably retreat to a quiet corner until I can leave.” Maybe one of the leering courtiers would make a pass at her, and as much as she hated it, she could talk to him or her for a little while. “All right, do the hair.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
When Dawnmother finished curling and pinning Starbride’s long hair on top of her head, she took a small, flat box from the chest of drawers. “I dare any of the other ladies to match this.”
Starbride gazed at the diamond and crystal necklace, a set of interlocking geometric shapes that resembled snowflakes from one direction and stylized dancers from another. It was a fascinating, eye-bending creation, and she loved it, but at the moment, she didn’t have much faith in it. “These are the richest people in the world, Dawn.”
“Rich they may be, Star, but their fathers are not jewelers, and even if those fathers were jewelers, they wouldn’t have the skill of yours.” She fastened the necklace around Starbride’s neck and then secured the matching diamond earrings.
Starbride touched the necklace and picked up a mirror so she could admire the glittering pinpoints of light. “You’re right. They don’t have his skill, but people from Marienne have commissioned pieces from him in the past.”
“He wouldn’t give them the same quality he’d give his daughter. Remember that when they’re panting over it, and be smug.”
Starbride had pictured a horde, but the sheer number of people swarming the Courtiers Ball exceeded her imagination. She’d glimpsed the ballroom on one of her forays and remembered it as cavernous. The glittering throng made it seem like a closet.
She heard multiple strains of music but couldn’t spot the players. The people nearest to the doors stood and talked to one another, and beyond them was a hint of movement that suggested pockets of dancing. Giant chandeliers sparkled overhead, and four sets of doors on the other side of the room were thrown open to let the heat onto the balcony beyond. It was a huge palette of color, the women in the muted tones the queen favored, and the men in the bolder, grander jewel tones that put Starbride in mind of an enormous flock of birds.
With a deep breath, she melted into the crowd. She couldn’t help but be jostled, and those responsible would glance at her with apologies on their lips that turned into varying expressions of surprise as they focused on her. Whether their surveys were polite, curious, or rude, she quickly grew tired of it, even the covetous glances at her jewelry.
A quiet corner presented itself, though it wasn’t where she expected. A few people strolled on the outdoor balcony that ran the length of the ballroom, making long shadows in the light pouring from the room. Starbride moved away from the doors to watch the dim lights winking from Marienne below.
“You look familiar.” The voice behind her eased her loneliness before she even turned.
In the light of the doorway, Katya’s cobalt blue coat made her blue eyes shine. Silver buttons began at her right shoulder and curved nearly to the center of her chest before continuing to her waist. The coat fit tightly to her trim upper body and then hung loose and open to mid-thigh. Silver embroidery wound around her standing collar and then wandered to the buttons, descending in a vine-like pattern, with echoes of the same pattern at the hem and cuffs. Her tight white trousers gleamed between the blue coat and the black boots, and as she stepped closer, her sapphire earrings winked in the softened light, as did the slender sapphire and silver diadem that encircled her forehead, the ends of it lost in her loosely pinned-up hair. Starbride was tempted to ask her if she was a dream.
Katya tapped her chin. “Yes, very familiar. Are you a new meringue at this court?”
“You’re much mistaken, Highness.” Starbride held her arms out. “According to my mother, I am a frothy cup of cinnamon tea, heavy on the cream.”
“Well, in your mother’s defense, that would be a good cup of tea.”
Starbride fought to hide a smile. The dusty girl in the hallway seemed miles away from this dazzling creature. “Thank you, Highness. I’ll write her and tell her Your Highness said so.” She turned back to the night.
Katya leaned on the parapet beside her and looked toward the lights of the city and the blackness of the countryside beyond. “You’re not going to forgive me for not admitting who I am right away, are you?”
“I thought I’d found a friend.” The words were out before she could stop them, and she had to face Katya’s stare.
“What makes you think you haven’t?”
Starbride’s irritation vanished. “Thank you,” she waited a heartbeat, “Highness.”
The moment stretched, the music from the ball echoing behind them. Starbride’s neck itched under the gaze of who knew how many watching eyeballs. With Katya on the balcony, there had to be quite a crowd.
“What’s keeping your hair up?” Katya asked.
“A million pins and my maid’s willpower.”
The Pyramid Waltz Page 4
