Chapter Twenty-One
Adria has already left by the time I arrive back in the palace, which is probably for the best. I don’t know if I’d be able to stop myself from confronting her, and doing so as she’s preparing for her highly anticipated fight with Quinn could be disastrous.
I don’t even know how to confront her. If I ask her, would she tell me the truth? I doubt it. Maybe I should think of some other way to get her to admit what’s really going on.
The more I think about it, the more it makes sense.
What would Ronan have to gain from starving our people?
Sure, it would save some coin, but at the cost of unrest and lost labor.
And judging by the way no expense has been spared for the festival, Selara isn’t that short on coin, despite what the alchemists have told Ronan.
Perhaps he wants to weaken us to allow the Orsa to control our lands completely. That’s what Adria might say, and it’s what Larus likely believes.
And I could see it being true. I should believe it’s true. They took our home from us and gave it to the Orsa. Maybe they asked us to come here so they could expose us and justify taking the rest of our lands from us.
But there’s a part of me—it’s small, but it’s growing—that believes Ronan.
More than that, that wants to believe Ronan.
That wants to live in the world he envisions.
A world made of the best of us doing the best we can for each other.
It’s na?ve, as Quinn said. It’s foolish, and it’s beautiful, and I’m having trouble believing that it’s all a lie he made up for my benefit.
I’m having a hard time believing he’s lying to me at all.
I take my time bathing and dressing. My favorite of the palace servants assigned to us, a sweet young girl named Hilaria with bouncy brown curls and big green eyes, helps me apply makeup in the Selaran style: light eyeliner, a peachy balm for the lips, and a shimmering powder for the cheeks flecked with silvery sparkles.
She tames my wavy hair but leaves it down.
“To accent the laurel wreath,” she says.
“You’re so beautiful. They’re going to see you as their queen after tonight. ”
As I prepare to dress in the gown Larus bought me before we arrived, there’s a knock at the door. One of Ronan’s servants arrives with a box. It’s finely packaged, wrapped in a white silk bow.
For the hero of Selara.
- R
I’m certain it’s a gown, and when I lift the top, I find that I’m right.
But I couldn’t have guessed how lovely it would be.
Hilaria squeals. “It’s so pretty!”
The gown is made of delicate white silk threaded with glittering silver. It’s long and flowing, with silver clasps inlaid with opal, or maybe mother-of-pearl.
Not a bit of gold in sight.
I have no idea how to put it on, but Hilaria is happy to help me. She drapes the material over me, crossing it over my shoulders to preserve my modesty. Then she cinches my waist with a silver cord.
It’s a beautiful dress. And, as Larus would say if he were here, it certainly sends a message. It says, “I am Selaran. I am proud to be Selaran.” It’s something I wouldn’t have even considered wearing a few weeks ago, plan or not.
But now?
I hope Adria sees me wearing it and chokes.
Hilaria leads me to a palace entrance I’ve never used to meet Ronan, who’s waiting for me.
He takes a long, lingering look at me as I walk down the stairs. I feel a jolt everywhere his gaze touches as if it’s his fingertips on my skin instead of his eyes.
I can’t tell if it’s his magic or simply my overwhelming attraction to him that makes me tingle when he looks at me.
He looks glorious. He’s wearing a crown tonight, a thin band of gold that sits in hair that has clearly been labored over intensively to undo the mess I made of it in the alley.
His face is back to its ordinary, uncanny look of absolute perfection as well, but I’m starting to get used to it.
As time goes on, I’m starting to notice little flaws that I find endearing: a tiny white scar on one of his cheekbones, a little asymmetry in his eyebrows.
It isn’t a face with history; the healers have done too good of a job for that.
But it’s human in a way I couldn’t see at first.
And the way he looks at me, as if he wants to grab onto me and never let me go, makes him all the more beautifully flawed. He’s an absolute idiot for trusting me. For believing in me. For seeing something in me that I’m still not certain is there.
But I want it to be.
“You are radiant,” he murmurs to me as I join him. “So beautiful it’s hard to look at you.”
“You don’t seem to be struggling.”
“I’m struggling to just look at you,” he clarifies, and it sends a wave of nervous pleasure to my core to hear it.
We travel to the arena by enclosed carriage, the ordinary chariots abandoned due to the possibility of further danger.
It gives us some degree of privacy, but it also creates an incredibly tense atmosphere as we look at each other without touching for the sake of Queen Claudia and Grand Vizier Cyrus, who accompany us.
They congratulate me, thank me, and chatter at me about I don’t know what.
I’m not really listening. I’m watching Ronan, watching the way his lips pout when he waits to speak.
The way he brushes his hair back from his eyes.
The way his hands seem to twitch in my direction.
The way his entire body seems to point to me.
The carriage enters the arena to thunderous applause.
In the center of the arena, an elaborate stage of painted white wood has been constructed to hold the ring for Adria and Quinn’s final match.
A viewing box awaits us off to one side, draped in red velvet and gold.
And in front of the stage, a raised platform stands ready for the crowning ceremony.
The carriage runs the track of the arena and then returns to the royal box. Ronan helps his grandmother out of the carriage first and then returns to take my hand. “Are you ready?” he whispers to me.
“I’m not sure if I am, but I’m here.”
“That’s enough for me,” he says.
When I step out of the carriage, I swear the arena is going to collapse from the noise and energy.
The rumor mill must have been working overtime: there are blue and green banners everywhere. The entire arena is filled with them.
And people are chanting my name.
I wonder if any of them are Nithyrian themselves. If any of my people are here to witness my betrayal, or perhaps to cheer on my companionship with Ronan.
Am I a traitor to them? Or a savior?
Either way, everyone knows where I stand now. Ronan guides me to the seat directly to the left of his, his hand lingering on mine for a moment before he releases it. He faces the arena with a regal composure as Claudia joins him to elevate his voice.
“Friends, Selarans, and honored guests. Today is the final day of the Festival of Sport. Our incredible competitors have graced us with amazing feats of strength, astounding tests of endurance, and some of the finest combat Sai has ever seen.
“But, as it seems some of you already know, our celebrations were nearly brought to an untimely end yesterday. To those of you who witnessed yesterday’s events, I am sorry that our festivities were marred by an act of senseless violence.
To House Santori and the friends of Linus, we grieve with you.
And to those who would stand against us, let me say one thing quite clearly: we will not be broken. ”
The crowd erupts into cheers. It takes a moment before Ronan can quiet them enough to speak.
“We have come here together to celebrate our gods and the world they have made for us. Though we honor Sai tonight, we do so in the spirit of togetherness. We do so in the knowledge that war should be the last resort. It’s a path we will not walk lightly. We know its cost.”
He glances towards where Adria is waiting off to the side. I wonder if she notices.
“But to our enemies, let me also say this: if it’s war you want, you will have it. The champions of Selara, the champions of Sai, will rain his wrath down upon you. The people of Selara will take up the cause with righteous fury. And let me be perfectly clear about this: we will be victorious.”
The cheer is so thunderous it hurts my ears. If Adria thinks the people are going to join her side once the fighting begins, it looks like she’s severely underestimated their patriotism.
“I stand here before you not because I was born to do so but because I choose to do so. Because I have accepted the mandate you have given me. Because I respect the covenant with which my family has ruled this kingdom for more than six hundred years. I do not rule you for my personal gain. I rule to make sure each and every person in this nation can live the life they were born to live with liberty, prosperity, and as much happiness as the gods will grant them.”
Where’s Larus when you need him? I remember how just a few short weeks ago, we mocked a speech just like this one. But, as much as it pains me to admit it, I sort of like what he’s saying now.
Kerensa, save me. I think I like this fool.
“Tonight, we honor the gods. But we also celebrate their creation. The people who are the foundation of this nation. My family. My court. And each and every person in this arena and beyond. And tonight, we honor the champions. As we crown the final champions this evening and close the Festival of Sport with tomorrow’s hunt, our next celebration begins. Are you ready to be entertained?”
The crowd screams in affirmation.
“Then let us witness the final fight. Who will be the champion? Is it Lady Adria, Head of House Verran? Or Quinn of House Horatio?”
The response to them is surprisingly even, considering Adria’s past. I’m fairly certain it’s my coattails she’s riding.