Oh, he did not just say that. Mara pushed back from the table, fists clenched. “If the idea disgusts you so much, why don’t you save us both the trouble and call off the betrothal?”
“If it were that simple, I would have already done it.”
His words smacked her in the face, highlighting the hopelessness of the situation. If the prince couldn’t break off his own engagement, what hope did they have? “Then what is your point, other than making me feel worse?” Mara asked through clenched teeth.
“I’m trying to make the most of the situation.” Isaac held out his hands to the side in a placating gesture. “The least you could do would be to meet me in the middle here.”
“And how would I do that?” she asked, exasperated. “It’s not as though either of us has a choice in this, right?”
“No, but you also don’t have to treat me like I have an incurable disease.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Why don’t we start slow, then? It could take months to plan a royal wedding. In the meantime, we could try to get to know each other as friends.”
Mara leaned back and watched him. He wasn’t pushing her or demanding more than she could give, and she couldn’t sense a trap in his words. She nodded. “Friends sounds reasonable.”
“Perfect!” Isaac said, sitting up straighter in his seat. “Lady Mara, may I have the pleasure of escorting you to dinner tonight? There’s a lovely restaurant I read about in the Gazette that I’ve been dying to try. We could eat and maybe attend a performance at the opera afterward?”
She pursed her lips, mulling it over. “I’ll accept on one condition.”
“Anything.”
“If you ever call me Lady Mara again, I’ll introduce you to my friend, Wynn.”
25
The Sacred Mile offered a place where social standings didn’t exist. It didn’t matter if someone lived in the inner ring or the outer ring—the gods would judge them all equally. Even though she understood the concept, Mara still did a double take at the sight of a man in a feathered cape and polished boots kneeling side-by-side with a woman wearing rags as they made their offerings at a low-seated table covered in candles.
Alex hadn’t been exaggerating when he said that the Sacred Mile had a shrine for every known god and goddess on the continent. A life-sized statue of each deity stood before their respective temple or shrine. As Mara, Wynn, and Mikkal walked down the rose petal-covered street, Mara spotted several she recognized from Lingate’s vengeful god of death, Bas, to Esterwyn’s twin goddesses of truth and justice, Veritas and Aquitas. If she searched all day, she was certain she’d find a shrine dedicated to the old gods of Seralle, too.
“Mind telling us why we’re here, love?” Wynn said, pulling her cloak around her body. White clouds formed before her lips with each breath. “It’s freezing out here, and that lady’s maid of yours said she’d make me a cup of chocolate.”
Mara craned her neck above the crowd of worshipers. It had to be here somewhere. “There’s something I need to do.”
“Chocolate, Mara. Ye’re saying freezing our arses off is more important than melted chocolate ya can drink? Imagine how tasty it would be with some of those butter tarts from the kitchens.”
“Someone’s getting spoiled by palace life,” Mara teased.
“I’d say I earned it.”
Mikkal poked Wynn in the side, earning a scathing glare from the scarred woman. “Better be careful or you might get soft.”
“If ya ever say that to me again, ya better make sure it’s with a blade in yer hand. I’ll show ya just how soft I am.”
“Maybe if you two helped me search, we could get back to the palace and your hot chocolate even faster?” Mara said, spying a pair of disciples walking down the street. As one, they turned and watched her pass by. A trickle of unease wiggled its way through her gut, but she dismissed it. Just a coincidence, that’s all. She was on a busy street surrounded by hundreds of people. Next to the palace, it was the safest place in the city. The thought didn’t stop her from moving closer to Mikkal.
Wynn paused to pick up a coin that someone had dropped, and slipped it into her pocket. “We’d love to, but ya didn’t tell us where we’re going.”
“I’m looking for the shrine dedicated to Mubali.”
Mikkal’s head jerked up. “Why are you looking for the Kerani goddess?”
“It’s for Tamil.” Mara picked at a loose thread on her plain brown dress. Mary had pitched such a fit at the sight of it, but Mara insisted on wearing something that would help her blend in more. The quality was too fine to fool anyone into thinking she lived in the outer rings, but hopefully she passed for a middle ring woman. Judging by the disciples’ reaction to her, the disguise wasn’t working.
“The Rei’s son? Why isn’t he here then? It’s his goddess, after all,” Wynn said.
“It’s not safe for him to be outside the palace right now,” Mara snapped, instantly regretting the defensive edge to her words. It was an honest question, after all. How were they to know that the same disciples who were after her might jump at the opportunity to recapture Tamil?
“All right, all right. No need to get yerself all twisted up over it. What’s this goddess look like, anyway?”
“I’ve never seen a picture, but Tamil said she has long, black hair.”
“Is she fiercely pretty with dark skin like the Rei?”
Mara frowned at the question. “I’d imagine so. She is the desert goddess, after all.”
“And does she wear one of those suvali things like the Kerani?”
“Probably.” From what Tamil had said, the story of Mubali was at the heart of most of Kearar’s traditions. It would make sense that their clothing was also inspired by her.
“And does she have a giant eagle?”
“That’s an oddly specific question,” Mara said slowly. “How did you know that?”
“Because she’s right over there?” Wynn pointed at a shrine located fifty paces away on the left. Sand from the shrine spilled out into the street, scattering even further as people walked by.
Mara hurried over to the statue. A woman wearing a white suvali and golden hoops in her ears stood beside the likeness of Mubali. In her hands, she cradled a pitcher of liquid. If she was cold from having so much skin exposed to the winter air, she didn’t show it.
Now that she had found the shrine, Mara wasn’t sure what to do next. She shuffled her feet awkwardly, waiting for the woman to say something. Wynn and Mikkal waited back a few paces, probably wondering why Mara was just standing there. She eyed the shrine, which was simple compared to those surrounding it. Instead of a marble building encrusted with gems, or an ornate altar filled with candles, there was nothing more than a shallow box of sand.
Taking a deep breath, Mara stepped closer and offered a shallow curtsy. It couldn’t hurt to be polite. “I would like to make an offering to Mubali, please.”
The woman turned a critical gaze on her. “And why would a pale-skinned foreigner want to make an offering to the goddess of the oasis? Shouldn’t you go find your own gods?”
Remembering the biting hostility of the Kerani people from her time in Kearar, Mara winced. Compared to that, this woman’s pointed curiosity was almost friendly. “It’s not for me. My friend is from Kearar. He was taken from his home, and he wants to go back to his father more than anything. Please, will you allow me to make the offering on his behalf?”
The woman’s eyes softened, and she nodded, gesturing for Mara to come closer. “Wanting to help a friend or loved one is the greatest reason of all. We who follow Mubali take no interest in ceremony or wealth—our way is simple. Hold out your hands.”
Mara stretched out her arms. The woman poured water into her cupped hands.
“Years ago, the goddess saved my people from death by giving them water. In return, we offer it back with our gratitude. Sprinkle it over the sand and make your request. May she look upon you with favor.”
&nb
sp; Careful not to spill a single drop, Mara knelt by the sand. She closed her eyes, allowing the cool water to trickle through her fingers. She offered a silent thanks for rescuing Tamil from the Order. Then she asked for a way to reunite him with his father, Tomar.
She wiped her hands on her skirt, then stood. Was that it? Were a few droplets of water enough to catch the attention of a goddess? She’d never been particularly religious, but she hoped that the goddess was listening, wherever she was. Turning to the woman, she offered a curtsy and stepped back onto the street, Wynn and Mikkal following after her.
“Would you like to return to the palace now?” Mikkal asked.
Mara nodded. The warring smells of incense and pungent body odor were giving her a headache. Besides, if Wynn missed out on drinking hot chocolate and eating pastries all afternoon, not even a locked door would save Mara from her wrath.
“Don’t ya need to get ready for the prince?” Wynn asked, effectively souring Mara’s mood.
“Ugh, please don’t remind me.”
“I offered to kill him for ya, don’t forget.”
“Murder isn’t a solution, Wynn, though I appreciate the sentiment.”
Mikkal touched her shoulder. “Tell us you want to leave, and we’ll run right now. We can gather supplies along the way and take you somewhere the emperor will never find you.”
Tempting as the idea was, she couldn’t abandon her friends. Tamil was still in the palace, waiting for her to return. Who would take care of him if she left without so much as a goodbye? And Ethan… Why did her chest squeeze painfully at the thought of leaving without him?
She shook her head. “No, I can’t leave yet.”
They turned onto the main street and headed up the sidewalk toward the palace. People walked in and out of the shops, carrying baskets filled with milk, bread, and produce in their arms. Mara inhaled the savory smell of cinnamon and ginger as she passed a confectionary. She nearly stopped to go inside and buy a dozen of whatever delicious treat came with that smell, but the high-pitched squeaking of a paperboy made a chill run down her spine.
“Extra, extra! Read all about it! Kearar invades Lingate! Rei to challenge for Warlord!”
Mara turned and stared at the boy who was waving the Gazette over his head like he was fending off a flock of birds. A small crowd had gathered around him to purchase a copy of the tabloid. Ignoring Wynn and Mikkal’s questions, Mara reached for her coin purse and hurried over before they were all gone. When it was her turn, she handed over two bits and grabbed the paper, scanning through the article.
According to the reports, Tomar had launched his military campaign last week. With an army of a thousand Gifted at his back, he invaded the southern border of Lingate, methodically picking his way north. Due to the civil war over who would become the next Warlord, Tomar found little resistance. If he continued at this pace, he would reach the capital, Orgate, within a month. The article went on to speculate about the Rei’s motivations, but Mara didn’t need to read more.
She already knew.
The Order had taken Tamil hostage, and Tomar would stop at nothing to get him back.
Mara bolted toward the palace. Orgate would only be the first stop on Tomar’s path of destruction. If he killed Warlord Bridgette and became the new Warlord, he would command the clans. He’d be all but unstoppable. With their power at his back, they would march on the Order. But what would happen once he realized the Head Magi no longer had his son?
Elbowing people out of her way, Mara weaved through the crowd. Where was a carriage when she needed one?
She rounded the corner and ran into someone, the impact forcing the breath from her lungs. Her eyes focused on the man’s gray Order robes and she recoiled, but not before the disciple slipped a scrap of paper into her palm. As Wynn and Mikkal caught up with her, the disciple ran away.
Wynn leaned over, resting her hands on her knees as she gasped for breath. “Mind telling us what’s going on?”
Mara couldn’t speak. With shaking hands, she unfolded the note.
Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.
I look forward to presenting my wedding
gift in person.
Deepest regards,
-C
26
“You’re in for a real treat,” Isaac said, glancing at his image in a pocket mirror. “The Gazette’s premier food critic listed it as the best fine dining restaurant in Merrowhaven.”
Mara didn’t respond as the carriage pulled up outside a restaurant called ‘The Farmer’s Table.’ Unpainted wood paneling covering the exterior of the building, combined with sliding doors, gave it a rustic look. Hanging from the eaves were baskets of potted plants whose leaves hung to the ground. Mara imagined the designer wanted to make the restaurant the appearance of a barn, but she’d never seen a barn like this.
“I’m glad we managed to get reservations on such short notice,” Isaac said, adjusting the buttons on his black overcoat. “Apparently, they’re booked a year in advance.”
“How did you manage it?” Mara asked, trying to be polite. She’d rather be back at the castle, fighting with Tamil over the last piece of breaded chicken in the kitchens. But she’d agreed to this outing in the hopes of sparking a friendship, and she couldn’t bow out now.
“Perks of being a prince,” Isaac winked. He held out his hand to help her down from the carriage.
Mara didn’t want to take it, but she wanted to fall on her face even less. She pulled her shawl tighter around her bare shoulders and took his hand before stepping out of the carriage and onto the street. The sun was just beginning to set, and an Ignis was walking from lamppost to lamppost, lighting the hanging lanterns that lined the street.
The carriage pulled away, taking their guards with it. “Wait, where are our guards going?”
“I slipped them a handful of gold coins and told them to make themselves scarce for the evening,” Isaac said. Mara threw him a horrified look, and he added, “Relax. We’re in the safest section of the city. They’ll go have a few drinks at a tavern and meet us after the opera.”
He seemed so sure, but then again, he didn’t know about Cadmus’s note. She glanced around the street, convinced a disciple would jump out and grab her, but nothing seemed out of place.
Well-dressed couples walked arm-in-arm on the sidewalks. When Mara saw her dress for the evening, she thought for sure that she would stand out. But compared to some of the outfits she saw in the inner ring, she looked downright shabby.
Movement between the buildings drew her attention. Her skin prickled as she stared into the dark alley. Isaac made a questioning noise, and Mara shook her head. She must have seen a cat or a stray dog. Cursing herself for being so jumpy, she gave Isaac a strained smile.
They walked inside the restaurant and a man—the maître d, as Isaac pointed out—showed them to a private table in the back of the dining room. Mara whistled appreciatively at the décor. It seemed like everything in the space was designed for luxury: a crystal fireplace, an indoor fountain, and gold-plated cutlery.
Isaac pulled out her chair before taking the seat across from her. The maître d handed them menus before leaving the room. Mara took one look at the prices and wanted to leave as well. For the cost of a single meal here, she could buy an entire set of armor! Just how many people could be fed for the same price?
As if sensing her discomfort, Isaac said, “Choose whatever you like.”
“But this is—”
“I know, but it’s also a special occasion,” He said, folding the cloth napkin on his lap. “There’s nothing wrong with indulging a bit when you’re celebrating.”
“And what exactly are we celebrating?” Mara asked, copying his trick with the napkin.
“The chance to get to know each other better, obviously.”
“I hardly think—”
“Welcome to The Farmer’s Table, are you ready to order?”
Mara jumped. A young woman in a simple white dress stood b
y the table, tapping her pen on a pad of paper. Mara picked her menu up and scanned the choices. “Um . . .”
“Please give us a few more minutes,” Isaac said smoothly.
The woman blushed. “Prince Isaac! It’s a pleasure to have you dine with us. Can I interest you in some beverages while you decide?” she asked, flicking her long brown hair over her shoulder.
Isaac’s grin widened. “Thank you, that would be wonderful. What would you recommend?”
“The house rose is a favorite among our patrons.”
“Perfect! We’ll take a bottle.”
The woman tripped over her own heels as she hurried away to fetch their drinks.
Mara laughed and asked, “So, is it like that for you every time you go out?”
“For the most part, yes. Sometimes it’s even worse.” Isaac made a horrified face. “It’s difficult to maintain the illusion of privacy when you’re the only child of the emperor.”
“Maybe a disguise would help?” Mara suggested.
“And cover this beautiful face? It would be a crime!”
She rolled her eyes at his vanity. If they were going to get to know each other, she might as well get everything out in the open. “What’s a crime is the fact that your people are starving in the outer ring while we indulge in a meal that could feed a dozen families for a year.”
Isaac sighed and folded his arms across his chest. “I’d rather not spend the night arguing with you.”
“How can you be so dismissive? Don’t you care about what happens to your people? Doesn’t it bother you at all? Or maybe you’re so blinded by your title that you don’t even realize how bad it is.”
“I’m just going to give you a few more minutes…” The waitress set the bottle of wine and glasses on the table before backing away slowly.
“I don’t appreciate being accused of apathy,” Isaac hissed. His eyes glittered dangerously. “I suggest you drop the subject.”
The Dreg Trilogy Omnibus Page 53
