A knot released in my chest as I pulled the egg into my lap. Going days without feeling the connection between us had felt like a form of withdrawal. Now, the warm, reassuring feeling that spread through me when I touched it made me feel safe, as if the crow had shrouded me in its wings.
“Now what?” Kiva asked.
I ran my fingers along the shell, the humming of the egg working away at my anxiety. “First we get through dinner. Then I see about getting out of this damn castle.”
* * *
Unlike in Aris, where dinner was family and close friends, Razel held a full court. The banquet hall was wide with a high vaulted ceiling, a massive glass chandelier dangling from the center, and on a small platform built into the back, Razel sat with her distinguished guests. Tonight, that meant me.
Razel had stuck me between her and Ericen. On her other side sat a handsome nobleman in his late twenties, who Razel occasionally flattered with her attention.
We faced a room with four long tables, each filled with food and richly dressed lords and ladies. Or were they soldiers? I couldn’t tell the difference. Some wore thick shirts and pants with matching jackets so rigid, they looked like uniforms, others uniforms so suave and finely cut, they looked like suits.
How many of them had family members sitting on Rhodaire’s border, threatening my people?
From my place at Razel’s table, I could see the sneers the rest of the room tossed in my direction. They stared with open disdain, their expressions made more hostile by the weapons they all carried. Mostly straight swords after Illucian custom, but some had baldrics of knives across their chests or simple daggers at their waists.
What I didn’t expect was the way they looked at each other, as if each tablemate were an opponent to be outmaneuvered and destroyed. I’d learned from tutors that even among families, Illucians cared only about competition for rank and prestige, but the way they looked at each other made my skin crawl. They were like wolves looking for a weak spot, their postures rigid in preparation to strike and scramble up the ranks.
Kiva sat at one of those tables, her elbows spread to each side to create space. We locked gazes across the room, and she flashed me a sharp smile to show she was all right.
“I do hope she’s not planning on skewering anyone tonight,” Ericen remarked. He lounged in his chair in a lithe, imperious way, as if the chair should be grateful to hold him. His expression held an air of disinterest, and once again, I saw the arrogant, vicious prince who’d ridden into Rhodaire.
“You’re a little far from her reach,” I replied.
His lips quirked in that one-sided smirk.
At our backs, Auma and an Illucian servant rushed about, refilling goblets with wine or water and tending to whatever needs we might have. I made sure not to have any. The Jin girl had readopted her meek exterior, and it made me uneasy to see her bustling about so swiftly. Everyone else simply ignored them, as if they thought their glasses refilled themselves and their empty plates vanished into thin air.
I wore a simple pale-green gown I’d selected because it was my warmest, but my arms still prickled with cold despite the heat of the fires around the room, and it didn’t escape Razel’s notice.
“We’ll get you some warmer gowns and a nice coat made,” she said. Her sugary tone made me sick.
“Thank you.” I forced a smile to crack across my face and went back to my food, but she kept talking.
“You’ll have free rein of the castle, of course. I want you to be comfortable here.” Her eyes scanned me, falling at last on my scarred arm. “And not to worry. It may be too warm for gloves where you’re from, but you’ll be perfectly comfortable with them here. We’ll get you some fine ones made.”
Where you’re from. As if she couldn’t even deign to speak my kingdom’s name.
My scarred hand curled into a fist of its own accord. “I don’t want to cover my scars, if that’s what you mean.”
Ericen went still.
Razel picked up a knife and cut a slice of butter. “Of course not, dear. Gloves are part of Illucian fashion. I know how important it is for girls your age to fit in. We’ll make a proper Illucian princess of you yet.”
Not before I strangle myself. Or you. The thought had barely crossed my mind when I met Kiva’s gaze. She eyed my fist, and I opened it, but the tension in my shoulders felt permanent. I scanned the tables full of people—no one wore gloves.
I glanced at Ericen, who made a point of not catching my eye. This time, I saw the truth beneath his posture. The easy sprawl, the look of constant mild irritation mingling with disgust: it disguised the tension underneath. Why did he look as on edge as I felt? And what exactly was Razel’s game? She was like a shark trying to trick a smaller fish into thinking it was safe.
Razel stood, and the crowd went instantly silent. Soldiers snapped to attention, and every set of eyes settled on the queen. No one so much as whispered. A chill prickled my neck—they looked at her with reverence fit for a goddess.
The queen stared back with a look I recognized. I’d seen it on my mother’s face a thousand times. A delicate blend of strength and a faint protective edge, something almost maternal.
She could level kingdoms and massacre families, but she cared for her people. Either that or she was very good at pretending. Considering she was Illucian, I figured the latter.
“I give thanks to Rhett for this special evening,” she began.
Every Illucian in the room clapped a fist to their heart simultaneously in recognition of their god’s name.
“Not only has my son returned to us, but he’s come with his wife-to-be, Princess Anthia Cerralté of Rhodaire. Please join me in welcoming her.”
Applause sounded, and I tried my best to look bashful and appreciative instead of glaring murderously as everyone’s eyes fell on me.
I felt like I was on display. Like Rhodaire had already been conquered and I was the prize.
“One week from now, we will have a ball in Rhett’s name to commemorate the occasion.”
A murmur spread through the room, and I nearly gagged, hiding it with a cough in my hand. A ball? Imagining the fake smiling Illucian faces and even faker compliments nearly had me sinking under the table.
Did she plan to announce the date of the wedding at the ball? Caliza had said it would occur when Razel wanted, and the idea that it could be sprung upon me at any time made it yet another thing out of my control.
Razel sat back down, and the hum of conversation picked up again. I scanned the faces in the crowd. How many of these people had been involved in Ronoch? How many of them would flaunt it in my face at the ball?
I spent the dinner angled toward Kiva’s side of the room so Razel couldn’t easily get my attention. More than once, lords or ladies came up to the table to pay respects to the queen and be introduced to me so they could offer their congratulations. Some greeted Ericen enthusiastically, others with an air of disinterest. He responded to them all with the same sharp smile and a dangerous gleam in his eye, exchanging stiff pleasantries that sounded like funeral rites.
Razel knew people’s names and asked after their families. They glowed beneath her attentions, but their exchanges felt fake—stiff and formal, like soldiers to a commander. Not like when my mother or Caliza spoke to people, where a true camaraderie existed.
The nobles’ smiles turned to half-concealed sneers when they addressed me.
“I’m sure you’re happy to get out of that abhorrent heat.”
“How gracious of our queen to extend a peaceful hand during your time of struggle.”
“Nice scars.”
My head snapped up, but the soldier who’d spoken was already bowing to Razel. I stared him down. He flashed me a haughty smile before stepping from the dais, his movements languid. My gaze followed him back to his table, where he sat beside the guard whose ribs I’d broke
n with the torch during our journey, slinging his arm across his shoulders.
Great.
“Making friends already, I see,” Ericen mused. His gaze had followed the blond boy back to his seat, and it rested there as if he might freeze him in ice with sheer willpower.
I fell back into my chair. “Are all your noblemen so pleasant?”
“Only the ones who don’t know their place.” The bite in his tone hinted at a larger history, but he smoothed it over with another smile. The ease with which he melded one expression into another made my stomach turn.
Barely a day in, and I already wanted to leave. It took several deep breaths and a reminder of what I’d come for, of the alliances I intended to build, to help me through the rest of dinner.
* * *
By the time Kiva and I returned to the room, I was exhausted. Not only from the long trip and night of talking, but from keeping every thought that crossed my mind sealed inside. More than once, I’d been forced to lie through my teeth to different lords and ladies about how gracious Razel was for having me, how lucky I was to be marrying into such a prestigious family, and what a great alliance this was for our kingdoms. I wanted to scrub my mouth out.
The quiet voice of the coiled snake whispered for me to go to bed, to hide, to wait for someone else to act from under the safety of my bed sheets. Fear I might give in swirled in the pit of my stomach, but I ignored them both. I could handle this.
“I have to say, I’m impressed.” Kiva threw herself onto one of the couches before the fire.
“With what?” I flopped onto the one farthest from the flames. Thankfully, the fire had already started to die.
“I’ve never seen you curb your tongue like that. Your face was so impassive, you almost looked like Caliza.”
I snorted, but she was right. Normally, I would have told Razel exactly what I thought of her pretend show of playing nice. I’d even managed to smile at a few members of her court. “I guess spending time with Ericen had at least one benefit.”
There was a knock at the door, and I called for them to enter. Auma stepped inside, and Kiva bolted upright, smiling. Auma blinked at her, head tilting a fraction in the first show of emotion I’d seen from her. During dinner, she’d kept a neutral mask, no matter how harried she’d been.
Even now, her face had already returned to an impassive wall. She stood a little straighter than she had at dinner and held my eyes in a way she never looked at Razel. “Prince Ericen has requested you join him tomorrow morning. I’ll escort you after breakfast.”
“Thank you, Auma,” I said. “If I have a letter to send, could you help me with that?”
She nodded once, and I dashed into my bedroom to compose a quick letter to Caliza. Pulling out the invisible ink Lady Kerova had given me, I wrote a visible message saying I’d arrived safely and missed her and an invisible portion indicating the egg was safe.
When I returned, the silence in the room had the delicate tension of unspoken words. I looked from Kiva to Auma as I handed the latter the letter. “Thank you.”
She nodded once, eyes flashing momentarily to Kiva, before she stepped from the room.
I eyed Kiva as I retook my seat. “That was smooth.”
She dropped back onto the couch. “Let’s talk about the fact that you and Ericen are spending time together instead. Snakes don’t make good pets, Thia.”
I chucked a pillow at her.
Twelve
The next morning, Auma woke us for breakfast. I’d slept horribly, waking constantly from dreams of fire and blood. Utter blackness greeted me each time, and I swore the darkness twisted and moved, mocking my fear.
For several moments, I lay in bed, dreading the day to come. Though I’d chipped away at the weight inside me, I’d only begun to work my way through this.
After dragging myself out from beneath the covers, I checked on the egg. Each time I saw it felt like reuniting with a lost friend, and deep below the excitement and anticipation, that scared me. Because what if it never hatched?
What if it did?
I would be dragging the crow inside into a war. If I was this attached to the egg already, how would I be able to put the creature inside in danger? The idea of losing it cut through me like a cold knife. I closed the trunk, banishing the thought with an expelled breath.
I couldn’t think about things like that. Not when I didn’t have a choice.
Auma had lit the fire by the time I emerged, filling the room with the earthy scent of peat. I stayed away from it, near the table in the sitting room, which had been laden with plates of eggs, fresh fruit, scones with cream and lemon curd, and pots filled with hot chamomile tea. I’d sampled tea once before in the Ambriels, but no one drank it in Rhodaire.
Kiva tried to get Auma to eat with us, but she excused herself and was gone in a wisp of air. Kiva eyed the spot she’d been standing. “She has a hunter’s step.”
“More than that. It’s like her feet don’t touch the ground.” The Jin were known for being masterful trackers. The prestige of the hunter’s guild came third only to the artist and gem guilds.
I sipped my tea and sighed. “This is so good.”
Kiva smirked. “The way to your heart really is through your stomach. But I’m glad to see you eating again.”
“Let’s talk about the way to your heart instead.” I glanced at the door Auma had left through, and Kiva’s eyes widened the slightest bit.
“I think she’s cute. That’s all.”
“And you respect her skill.” I hadn’t missed the admiration in Kiva’s tone when she noted Auma’s silent step. “All she needs now is talent with a blade and you’ll be smitten.”
“I will throw things at you.”
“I’m thinking a spring wedding.”
“Thia.”
“You can’t wear your guard’s uniform though. I bet we can find a nice suit for you to borrow.”
She seized a scone, and I leapt from my seat with a laugh, narrowly avoiding being pelted in the head.
An hour later, Auma led us down the corridor, my bow a familiar weight across my back. One of the guards posted outside my door had followed us, but my head stayed on a swivel nonetheless. I didn’t trust anyone here besides Kiva and my own soldiers. Still, I already noticed something different in the eyes of the people we passed. Eyes that saw my weapon and didn’t look quite as disgusted as last night’s dinner guests.
Auma led us downstairs to the first floor and through to the back of the castle, where we entered a long, rectangular room. Light flooded the space, forcing me to blink several times to clear my vision. The entire back wall consisted of floor-to-ceiling windows, granting light to a room filled with chairs and couches, all organized in clusters around small hearths lit with roaring fires.
Thankfully, the fires were on the edges, and the room was fairly large. I could walk through the middle without getting close to any of them.
A quiet buzz of conversation filled the room as several nobles from last night’s dinner lounged and drank together. A drizzle of rain tapped at the windows, a light haze of fog filling a massive courtyard beyond.
Tension crept into every muscle as my gaze jumped from Illucian noble to soldier and back again. My guard remained stationed at my back, Kiva at my side, both as tense as I was, surrounded by so many potential opponents.
“Good morning.” Ericen’s voice drew me from my inspection as he approached. I stared.
He wore all black leather down to his boots. Black leather straps formed an X across his chest, the hilts of two swords sticking up over each shoulder on his back. Not an inch of pale skin was visible besides his neck and face. He’d become a shadow.
Only the golden head of Illucia’s horse insignia emblazoned above his heart broke up the darkness.
Auma bowed to both of us, then moved deeper into the room, by which p
oint I’d schooled my expression back into neutrality. “Taking down a small army today, are we?”
He smirked. “This is the uniform of the Illucian Vykryns. I didn’t wear it when I was in Rhodaire because it’s a little—”
“Ridiculous?” Kiva suggested.
“Pompous?” I added.
“I was going to say dark for a Rhodairen summer, but I appreciate the compliments,” he said, looking bemused.
“What’s a Vykryn?” I asked.
He straightened. “Illucia’s most elite warriors. It’s a title granted to only a few of the soldiers who graduate Darkward every year.”
My eyes narrowed, my humor gone. Kiva and I exchanged looks. These sounded like the kind of people you sent to cripple an entire nation. The kind that excelled in archery and could kill a crow as it leapt from a burning rookery.
“Good for you,” Kiva said drily. “Do you have a team chant too? Or just matching outfits?”
Ericen’s smile sharpened. “Yes, I suppose they’re not quite as glamorous as the Korovi Miska. Though I suppose you’ve never seen a Miska warrior, have you? Okorn.”
Kiva’s hand flew to Sinvarra, and I seized her wrist a second before she could draw. The room went deathly silent, until only the thunder of my own heart filled my ears. Okorn were what the Korovi called children of banished countrymen.
My voice dropped low enough that only we could hear. “Speak to Kiva that way again, and I’ll put an arrow in you.”
Ericen grinned, actually grinned, as though my threat enthralled him. “That’s not quite what I brought you here for.” And with that, he spun for a glass door in the windowed wall, as if the floor hadn’t very nearly been coated in blood.
Releasing Kiva’s wrist, I watched him go, trying to fit together the pieces of him I’d seen. He wasn’t the boy I’d ridden with in the carriage, trying and failing at civility, nor was he the cruel prince I’d hated in Rhodaire. His flippant comments were like a reflex, as though he’d spent his entire life snapping back and didn’t know how to stop.
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