Chapter 7
I woke to the sound of birdsong. Beautiful but loud, it trilled through the balcony doors and straight into my brain. Groaning, I grabbed a pillow and pressed it over my head.
Then I remembered where I was.
Nocta. My father’s fortress.
I bolted upright. Today was the hunt.
The chamber’s double doors swung open, and Delphine swept inside with a black gown draped over her arm. She stopped short, her long skirts swinging around her ankles.
“Oh good, Your Highness. You’re up.” She moved to the armoire and hung the gown on a hook inside.
“Good morning,” I said, my voice hoarse with sleep. Despite the luxurious mattress, I’d spent the night tossing and turning, and I fought a yawn as I shuffled to the washstand. My watery reflection revealed smears of purple fatigue under my eyes.
Delphine spoke over her shoulder as she smoothed the gown’s black skirts. “I had to guess your size, but the castle tailor is very skilled. I’m sure this will fit.”
I blinked. “She made that gown overnight?”
“He,” she corrected. “And it was no trouble.” She faced me, and her white brows pulled together as she tapped her chin with a slender finger. “Two petticoats, I think. Anything more will be too hot.”
As she had the night before, Delphine worked miracles in a dizzying whirlwind of speed and competence.
After serving me a breakfast of chocolate-filled croissants, she pinned and laced me into layers of undergarments and the elegant black riding dress, which had a clever split in the skirt that would allow me to sit comfortably in the saddle without flashing anyone.
Riding boots and a silky black cravat completed the ensemble, and then Delphine drew the upper half of my hair away from my face and arranged it in an intricate braid I couldn’t have replicated if my life depended on it.
When she finished, she turned me around and eyed me with a critical expression. “May I?” she murmured, raising her hands.
She hadn’t steered me wrong yet, so I nodded. “Sure, go ahead.”
“Hold still.” She smoothed her thumbs under my eyes, her touch featherlight. A beat later, dark circles appeared under her eyes—and then slowly disappeared.
I sucked in a breath. Whirling, I went to the mirror and examined my reflection. My face was well rested, with no trace of the purple puffiness under my eyes. I met Delphine’s gaze in the mirror.
“You took the dark circles onto yourself.”
Her lips curved. “I’m a caladrius. My people are healers.”
“A caladrius.” The name was unfamiliar.
She bobbed her head. “We can absorb illnesses and injuries, along with some kinds of pain. It doesn’t affect us.”
Well. That was a handy gift. I looked in the mirror again. My skin glowed. My hair fell over my shoulders in glossy black waves. Even my eyes seemed a brighter green. It was all Delphine’s doing.
I faced her. “Thank you. I’m grateful for your help.”
A shy smile touched her lips. “It was my pleasure, Your Highness.” Abruptly, she cocked her head. A second later, her smile fled. “The guards are coming.” She took my hands. “The king will honor you today, Your Highness. You must accept it. Do you understand?”
Something in her voice made anxiety twist through me. “You mean the hunt?”
“Yes. You can’t refuse the king’s honor.”
“Why would I—?” A loud knock cut off my question.
“We’re here for the princess,” a male voice called through the door. “The king asks for her.”
With a final look at Delphine, I crossed the chamber and opened the doors. Two vampire knights in black armor and crimson cloaks stood at attention.
“This way, Your Highness,” the taller one said. Without waiting for a response, the men turned and marched down the corridor.
Heart kicking against my ribs, I followed.
The fortress was quiet, the beautiful furnishings bathed in the soft glow of the diffused morning sunlight.
Our footsteps echoed, and my skirts rustled as we made our way to the grand foyer where Rasimir had greeted me the previous evening.
Then we were in the courtyard and through a stone archway that opened onto a sprawling forest.
The guards stopped at the edge of a grassy clearing, offered terse nods, and walked away.
I stared at the forest, confusion pummeling me. I swung back to the courtyard, where the steps led to the Drakhold’s main keep. Across the cobblestones, the bridge Vander and I had crossed spanned the canyon just as before. The stone statues of sirens and centaurs were all the same.
But the forest was most definitely new. As I turned back to it, more nerves twisted through me.
Even awed as I’d been by the Drakhold and the prospect of meeting my father, I wouldn’t have missed an entire forest, especially not one like this.
Trees stretched toward a distant horizon, where the glowing suggestion of a sun spread pink and orange through the brightening sky.
A group of black tents with red pennants hugged the tree line.
Dozens of horses grazed on grass next to the tents.
As I looked for their owners, a group of vampires in black riding clothes emerged from the largest tent.
Judging from their bearing and the richness of their dress, these had to be members of Rasimir’s court.
Alon trailed them, his head bent and his steps slow.
One of the vampires turned and pointed to a chair positioned before the tent.
Alon nodded, then went to the chair and sat.
His brown breeches and loose white shirt were a marked contrast to the vampires’ riding attire.
He appeared to study the ground as the vampires chatted in clumps a short distance away.
More courtiers emerged from the tents, and the atmosphere grew festive.
Vampires pulled on gloves and fussed with their horses.
Laughter rang across the clearing. More than a few cast curious looks in my direction, but no one acknowledged me.
Alon kept his head down, his hands folded in his lap.
My confusion grew. Even with my limited knowledge of servants, it seemed strange for Alon to sit. Although Rasimir had said Alon would lead the hunt. So why wasn’t he dressed for it?
And where had the forest come from?
“It’s spelled,” Rasimir said at my shoulder.
I jumped, then pressed a hand to my chest. “You startled me, Maj—Father.”
His green eyes twinkled. “I’m quiet when I want to be.
One of the benefits of advanced age.” He looked every inch a king in sleek black riding clothes and tall black boots.
A golden circlet nestled on his head. A few long strands of hair were braided away from his face, and I realized the style matched mine. Maybe Delphine had done it on purpose.
“You look lovely,” he said. “Did you sleep well?”
Good manners answered for me. “Yes, thank you. My bedchamber is the nicest room I’ve ever seen.”
“We’ll have to remedy that. The Drakhold boasts many wonders.” He turned and gestured to the fortress behind us. “Your balcony is just there. If you stepped out last night, I venture you saw a maze and a fountain.”
My stomach did a nervous flip. “I…Yes, I saw that.” Oh gods, had he seen Vander and Lorcan? For some reason, it seemed important that he hadn’t.
“It’s a clever spell, isn’t it?” he asked.
“The witch who created the enchantment tried explaining it to me, but it’s all very complicated.
” He waved a hand. “Something about one plane placed over another. The maze is still here, but it’s hidden under the layer of forest. Magic is capable of producing great beauty, don’t you agree? ”
“Yes,” I said, and I couldn’t help wondering if anyone ever dared to disagree with him. “Do you have any witches among your court?”
Rasimir smiled. “They come and go. Witches aren’t very sociable creatures.”
Mama had said the same. Witches rarely entered Ghedda.
The few spellcasters who crossed the Feyline were usually too weak to pull off more than a handful of party tricks.
The books I’d read about the covens described them as once-dominant forces within Nocta.
At the height of their power, they’d ruled from twelve citadels spread throughout the realm, and each citadel had boasted its own university, or arcanum, where members trained and perfected their magic.
But like everything else in Nocta, Rasimir had conquered the citadels one by one.
The great witch strongholds were largely deserted now, the arcana empty.
Still, a witch had spelled his garden maze to turn into a forest. Like Lorcan, the witches served Rasimir despite losing the right to rule themselves.
All of Nocta serves the king.
“Captain Blackfell is bringing your horse,” Rasimir said. “I hope you’ll be pleased with her.”
“Why is Sir Vander called captain?”
“He’s the captain of my personal guard. Few are more trustworthy.”
A horse’s whinny turned my head. Instead of Vander, Prince Lorcan approached, one hand on the lead of an enormous stallion with a shiny black coat.
Lorcan’s clothes matched his horse, his close-fitting jacket molded to his muscled biceps.
Dew clung to his tall riding boots. The tip of a hunting bow peeked over his shoulder.
“Ah, Lorcan,” my father said as the prince stopped before us. “We should have good hunting today.”
“I hope so, Majesty.”
Rasimir turned his smile to me. “The prince is an excellent hunter. I think you’ll be impressed with him.”
I stared at Lorcan, scenes from the night before running through my head. Vander had looked furious in front of the fountain. What had the prince said to provoke such strong emotion? As if I’d summoned him, Vander emerged from the Drakhold’s courtyard with Maddox and another horse in tow.
Vander’s auburn hair glinted in the hazy light. Like the courtiers, he wore black riding clothes and tall boots. But his jacket was embroidered with the crimson snake from the Drakhold’s banners. Rasimir’s symbol. Vander didn’t just serve my father. He protected him.