6. Isla
6
ISLA
“ A re you trying to get caught? Our parents’ rooms are right there,” Naeva hisses as she tows me into her suite and kicks the door shut.
“Been there. Got caught.” I sigh. “Dropped through the wrong skylight.”
Her thick lashes surge so high, they almost reach the retracted tusk on her forehead. Had her eyes been pink instead of full-black, and her hair, auburn instead of violet, she’d have been indistinguishable from my mother.
“You ended up in your parents’ quarters?”
“Worse.”
“In my parents’?”
“How would that be worse?”
“Fair.” She joggles her head from side to side. “So where did you—” She sucks in a breath. “Don’t tell me you entered through the very last window?”
“I entered through the very last window.”
“Holy fucking shit.” Her lips move over the swear words as though they were a Shabbin incantation.
“Yep.”
“Did you hit something on your way down from the ceiling?”
“The King’s bed. It’s very fluffy.”
“If it’s fluffy, then how did you get a bruise on your neck?”
“Ah, that.” I sweep my hair to the side. “That is courtesy of Konstantin’s arm when he tried to strangle me.”
My cousin’s forever-placid demeanor sharpens as though she were readying herself for warfare.
“He mistook me for an assassin.”
“How could he mistake you for an assassin?”
“I could be an assassin if I wanted to,” I grumble.
Correction: I will be one someday . I flick the thought away before it can bleed off my tongue.
“I wasn’t slighting your cunning or lethality, Isles. I’ve been on the receiving end of my fair share of your blows during training. What I meant was, you’re the Crow Princess. Sure, you’re not the only shifter with black hair and violet eyes, but… Actually, you are the only person with violet eyes.”
“I may have taken someone else’s face.”
She hums. “That makes more sense. But regardless, the king’s got all these wards up around his private quarters that makes it essentially impossible to enter with magic. Not to mention the medallion that Mimi gifted him the day of his coronation blocks all magic—including the effect of iron.”
That explains his shock. It also sparks a theory—could it have blocked the effect of the iron blade he used on his sister?
“My Crow magic didn’t work, but I could spellcast. On myself. I didn’t manage to paint any sigil on him. I tried, though.” And now, I wish I’d succeeded. I’m oddly curious in that way. I like to know how and if things work.
Note to self: ask Mimi about the medallion .
Second note to self: ask Mimi why the Cauldron let Konstantin keep it, if he’s not a noble king.
“Want me to heal your neck?” Naeva raises her hand to the gold shark tooth she wears on a thin chain.
I roll my lips and nod, then hold still as she paints the sigil I’ve never managed to reproduce properly. Once my bruise has been dealt with, she presents me with two options for the soiree, both rather skimpy considering the climate.
“They’re spelled to keep your body temperature warm,” she explains.
“Even in the areas they don’t cover? Because there seems to be quite a lot of those.”
She smiles. “I’ve got cloaks. You’ll definitely want to wear one, since supper’s up at the Lodge. There’s a sleigh ride to get us up there. Unless you prefer flying?”
“No flying for me. My arms and shoulders are dead. Besides, a sleigh ride sounds exciting.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” She jiggles the hangers to finalize my wardrobe selection. “Which one?”
I choose a pearlescent-gray gown with bell sleeves and a crystallized belt. As Naeva completes my outfit with a wide diamond choker, I splash one of her perfumes onto the exposed skin at my sternum, then sit still as she brushes out my hair with gentle strokes, regaling me with all I’ve missed—mostly tales about who stumbled into whose bed after last night’s welcome party.
“Ever since Eponine proclaimed her nephew Crown Prince of Nebba, everyone has been fawning over Elio. It’s hilarious to watch.”
I grin, imagining how uncomfortable this turn of sexual fortune must make our painfully shy best friend.
“Lach’s horribly jealous.” Naeva sets down the brush, then mists my shiny raven locks with oil that carries the rich, golden aroma of the south. “You should’ve seen him. He actually counted the number of people who lined up to slip Elio their name and address.”
I laugh as I don my leather boots—Naeva and I may have the same body type, but her feet are a full-size smaller than mine.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she says, tossing me a white cloak. “It’s never the same without you.”
As we link arms and head out, I think of Shoshair, and how I wish I could’ve brought her with me. Her absence, paired with my guilt for abandoning her, weighs heavily on my chest. Nevertheless, one glance at Alyona’s portrait reminds me that I was meant to be here.
Before my empathetic cousin can sense my dilemma, I force the Alyona-prophecy from my thoughts and concentrate on my surroundings.
We’ve stepped out of the hallway and through a set of double-doors that open onto a room aglow with golden-hued mirrors and an oil mural of plump, pointy-eared cherubs drifting through clouds. Judging by the tables covered in blue felt, dice, and cards, and the corner bar, I assume this must be a recreation den. Do the Korols have game nights, or is this a place to entertain guests?
The next room is a library. Leather spines with gilt lettering glimmer on shelves made of polished white quartz. I can imagine Izolda lounging on one of the white leather couches that cinch the glass fire pit, a novel in hand.
Every time Aodhan flies her to Luce—not often enough—I fly her down to the Public Library in Tarecuori where she checks out dozens of books at a time, while I amble down aisles and pretend to search for very specific titles I never find. I think she’s caught on that reading isn’t my thing, even though she doesn’t know why. I’m not big on sharing my shortcomings.
Has my arrival reached her ears, I wonder? I find out when we emerge into a towering quartz atrium—which Naeva tells me is the Great Hall—and my name is squealed.
Izolda crushes me in a hug before pulling back to ask, “You sneaky thing, when did you arrive?”
“Just before it started snowing.”
“Is Arin here as well?”
“Just me.”
“But she’s all right?” Izolda asks, ever the worrier.
“Yes.”
“I’m so glad to hear it. I made her a basket of Glacin treats and included those roots we talked about last time I visited.” If there existed an award for Most Thoughtful Faerie Alive, Izolda would win it year after year.
“She’ll love that.”
“Oh, and a potion brewing book! Obviously, it’s not real potions, but I thought she’d get a kick out of it. Anyway, I’d like to introduce you to my brother.”
I almost tell her that we’ve already met when she beckons over a golden-haired male. This must be the younger one, Ilya.
“Ilyusha, meet Isla, Lorcan and Fallon’s daughter.”
“The elusive Crow Princess who is always absent when I show up in Luce.” He takes my hand and carries it to his lips, brushing a polite kiss to my knuckles.
Izolda rolls her eyes. “You’ve traveled there twice in the last decade.”
“I took my military training very seriously,” he says, releasing my hand. “Which shocked everyone—including myself—since I take nothing seriously.” He punctuates his avowal with a chuckle.
Where Konstantin is all severity and retinue, Ilya is all ease and liveliness.
“Welcome to Glace, Isla Ríhbiadh of the Sky Kingdom. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“That sounds ominous,” I say, though surely he wouldn’t be this friendly if he’d heard about his brother’s split lip.
“You know how chatty Lach can get under the influence of Faerie wine. This one”—Naeva nods to Ilya—“kept refilling his glass.”
“What can I say? I live to entertain.” With a wink, he adds, “And gather blackmail material.”
Izolda laughs. “You’re incorrigible. Simply incorrigible.”
“According to our mother, it’s the influence of your Crow mate.”
Her smile weakens. Even though Ilya’s tone was playful, I’ve heard Milana Korol doesn’t approve of Aodhan, which weighs heavily on Izolda.
“Speaking of your mate…” Ilya gestures toward the other end of the Great Hall, to the handsome Crow, who according to many, used to be insufferable until he bonded with Izolda. “Aodhan was looking for you. Something about Ksenia’s jewelry.”
That sands down what was left of her smile.
“I’ll see you all up at the Lodge.” As she walks away, cream dress swirling around her hourglass frame like puffs of Selvatin sand, she calls out, “Behave, Ilyusha, or you’ll be banned from the rest of the festivities.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior.” Yet his blue eyes flash with the promise of wickedness. The good kind.
“What’s wrong with Ksenia’s jewelry?” Naeva asks.
“It’s, um…” He tugs at the standup collar on his sky-blue jacket, which matches his brother’s getup in both color and cut. “Tawdry.”
I presume that by tawdry , he means made of ivory.
Back before peace was ratified between Shabbe and Glace, serpent tusks could still be fashioned into jewels and home decorations. Though ivory trade has become illegal across all four realms, wearing or displaying objects predating the ban is unfortunately not.
To stop dwelling on serpent killings—since that’s the only way to prize tusks off sea creatures—I raise my gaze to the opulent source of light: a crystal chandelier with over a thousand shivering wicks. I’ve never seen one quite so massive, not even in the vestiges of the Faerie castle on Isolacuori, which Zia Syb has transformed into the grandest restaurant in all of Luce.
“Handblown in Luce three centuries ago,” Ilya says, having trailed my gaze. “Since it was a present from the Regios, the plan is to take it down.” Under his breath, he adds, “I’m not sure why it hasn’t been done already.”
Because your brother might not be as fond of the new shifter regime as he pretends to be…
“At least it’s not made from animal bones,” a familiar voice pitches in—Antoni.
He and Enzo are shuffling up the stairs toward a glass vestibule that must be the castle’s main entrance. Although neither blood brothers nor mates, the two are inseparable. Enzo acknowledges me with a nod, but not Antoni. He’s too busy peering at the arm Ilya has just fed through Naeva’s to escort her up the stairs.
Even though my cousin calls me delusional every time I allude to her fellow Serpent’s attraction, I’m convinced I’m not. The male is always watching her. She calls it misplaced hatred for her father. I’ve been on the receiving end of hateful glowers, and the fire blazing behind Antoni’s black eyes isn’t fanned by hatred. At times, I wonder if Naeva is deliberately oblivious to his fascination because, to her, her beloved father’s opinion is law.
“Will you do me the honor of riding in my sleigh, Miss Ríhbiadh?” Ilya offers me his other arm.
“Absolutely.”
As we start up the very long flight of stone steps, Ilya asks about my accommodations.
“We’re sharing a room,” Naeva says.
“To share that room too…” he muses in a tone that comes off as playful instead of depraved.
I snort. “A true rake.”
“I not only live to entertain but also to please.” He adds an eyebrow waggle that only serves to narrow Antoni’s glower.
Which narrows some more when Naeva laughs.
Misplaced hatred, my feathered ass.
When we reach the esplanade, a long line of ornate, wooden sleighs awaits us, gleaming in spite of the weather. Unlike in Luce, no horses are tethered to these. I seek out train tracks in the thickening white carpet but find none. I surmise it’s the air-Faeries standing on the rear and front platforms that must propel the luge, just like they propel our gondolas back in Luce.
After aiding Naeva aboard, Ilya proffers his hand to help me climb. I settle in front of my cousin, whose violet hair is already salted with flakes, as though she’d been sitting there for an hour instead of mere seconds. Ilya hops aboard and drops down on the cushioned bench beside me. I think we’re about to take off when another passenger lumbers on: Antoni.
I knock my knees into Naeva’s and raise a brow. Her mouth thins.
“Will Enzo be joining us?” I ask, since the bench seat could easily accommodate one more.
“He’s waiting for his mate,” Antoni replies.
Just as we take off, Katya bustles up the stairs with her twin brother, Alexei. I wonder if being in Glace feels like a homecoming for the Serpent twins. After all, they grew up in the land of ice and snow, only arriving in Shabbe when Taytah decided to expand her shifter clan twenty-five years ago.
Ilya drapes his arm on the back of our shared bench and sprawls, having no issue with making himself comfortable. He might not be king, but this is his home…and his sleigh.
“How do you feel about snow in July, Miss Ríhbiadh?” he asks.
I tilt my head and close my eyes. “It feels like a gift from the sky.” Feather-soft flakes nip at my lids, nose, and curved lips.
“Can we swap places?”
I hinge my neck and grin. “I’d accept, but I doubt my father, or your brother, would appreciate the trade.”
He joggles his head. “I suppose you’re right about Lorcan. Not to mention he’s a tad frightening.”
Ilya’s too polite to mention that Konstantin would surely feel the same about hosting a Crow—aside from Aodhan. Since the latter is his brother-in-law, though, I doubt he has much of a choice in his company. Not if he wants to keep Izolda around.
My mind whirs over a sudden realization: if Konstantin Korol is a closeted antimorph, will he toss his sibling and her mate out of Glace?
“I can’t decide who you take after.” Ilya tilts his head to the side. “If I squint, I see Lorcan; but if I don’t, I see Fallon.”
“Definitely my sister,” Naeva says, her shoulders rigid beneath the cashmere stole, whose burgundy hue matches her dress.
“And you…” He squints at Naeva as though it’ll help him match her features to her genitors’.
“I personally see a lot of Cathal in Naev,” I offer. “Especially in the personality department. Wouldn’t you agree, Antoni?”
Her nostrils flare with annoyance that I’ve asked for his opinion. One he ends up not giving anyway.
“Might want to hold on.” Ilya says, a second before the sleigh tilts upward, almost pitching me onto Naeva’s lap. “The hill can be quite steep.”
“So, this is summer in Glace?” I muse.
“Did you pack a lot of swimwear?”
With a smile, I tell Ilya that I didn’t pack. That I forgot.
“How does one forget?” he asks, seemingly amused and confused.
“When one decides to undertake a journey on a whim.”
He laughs before informing me that the Jubilee party is headed to Voshna in the morning, a city teeming with better wares than those in the capital. “I believe your uncle opened a boutique there recently. I hear his two-piece bathing costumes have become all the rage amongst the hot-spring lovers.”
“Phoeppa’s bikinis sold out in Luce as well,” I tell him.
“ Phoeppa ?”
“That’s what we call my uncle—a mix of Phoebus and Appa. Elio came up with it.” I grin. “According to my mother, Zia Syb was positively livid that her son had a name for Phoebus, especially since he’d yet to say ‘Mamma.’”
“She refused to speak to Phoeppa for days,” Naeva intones.
Ilya chuckles as the sleigh rights itself and comes to a standstill. “After you, Antoni.”
The blue-haired Serpent swings himself down, then waits, and not because he doesn’t know where we’re going, considering we’ve glided right underneath an overhanging roof supported by thick wooden beams. I think he’s debating whether to offer his assistance.
Ilya dismounts with the grace of someone used to riding in sleighs, then proffers his gloved hand. “Ladies.”
Antoni’s gaze locks on Ilya’s palm as Naeva uses it to disembark.
The intensity with which he tracks her every move isn’t lost on the Glacin royal who, as we walk arm-in-arm behind the two rigid Serpents, leans over to whisper, “I believe that one hates me.”
“Don’t take it personally.” I shrug. “He hates most people.”
“Not Naeva,” Ilya murmurs.
“Except her.”
“I probably should ease up on my seduction game,” he says as two glass doors split open to welcome us into an octagonal space.
I laugh. “Is that what your wish to sleep between Naeva and me was?”
He gives me a saucy wink that solidifies my liking of him. I live for humor and wit. If my future mate isn’t endowed with both, I will demand a refund.
Skies, to think that I may cross paths with the one tonight. The thought is sobering. Behati probably lied, I remind myself, turning my entire focus outward so as not to contemplate my gut-churning fate.
The Lodge sprawls wide with its lofty timber walls and floor-to-ceiling picture windows. Eight glass pillars of fire, rooted in the slate tiles, shoot toward the rafters, infusing the rustic space with a modern feel that reminds me of Nebba—even as the plaid upholstery and tan suede whisper of our sky castle.
“Are the pillars filled with actual fire?” I crane my neck, trailing one of the flaming columns toward the ceiling where beams join to shape a snowflake.
“Yes. Faerie-fire contained in tempered glass,” Ilya explains. “I wouldn’t advise brushing up against it.”
“If it’s anything like those orbs in the palace hallway, then I’ll be keeping my distance.”
“Holy reindeer droppings, don’t tell me you touched one of them?” he exclaims.
“ Reindeer droppings ?” I repeat, a giddy thrill zipping through me.
Each Yuletide, Agrippina would tell us a story about the rare species of reindeer that can be found deep in the mountains of Glace and that can—apparently—fly.
“Pardon the expression. Old habits.”
“Oh, it’s not the expression that arrested me; it’s the reindeer part. I’ve heard so many stories about them. Is it true they fly?”
“They hop and manage to stay airborne for a handful of seconds. I doubt a Crow—such as yourself—would qualify that as flying.”
The molten timbre has my gaze veering off Ilya and settling higher, onto a face that is so starkly different, it seems impossible it was molded by the blood of the same man.
“We also have orcas, elk, bears, and seals,” Konstantin adds.
“That fly?” I ask.
“No. I was just mentioning them since I hear they only exist in our part of the world.”
“And whales,” Ilya adds. “Naeva mentioned wanting to take a dip with them tomorrow, but since orcas have a taste for serpent meat, my worrywart brother has demanded that no one venture into the ocean.” He glances over his shoulder at said worrywart, then does a double-take. “Which royal did you tick off in my absence, Kostya?”
Gray eyes trace the fingers with which I clasp Ilya’s dinner jacket. “The one dangling from your arm.”