Chapter 18 #3
“Her Grace has arranged a fitting,” the attendant replied, like it was obvious. “For the Copperlight Ball.”
The Copperlight what?
Cairn swore under his breath. “Look at her. She’s bruised,” he snapped, like he hadn’t been the one to bruise her.
“She’s bleeding.” Like he hadn’t been the one to split her skin.
“She’s in no state for a dark-be-damned dress fitting—” Like he wasn’t the singular reason for whatever state she appeared to be in.
“I’m a-afraid Her G-Grace i-insists.”
“Oh, dark rot the place.” Cairn walked away without another word.
I think that means you’re free to go, Hymn told her.
She let out an exhausted chuckle. I think so too.
She drew on her second sight, blinking as her vision filled with colour and light.
The arena sharpened into focus, sun slashing across stone, banners snapping lazily overhead, recruits huddled off to train separately with their section leaders.
Dust glittered in the air like ground-up glass.
Her own arms were a map of bruises, forcing the gold of her lace to appear much starker than it usually did against the dusky hue of her skin.
She tossed the staff down and picked up her cane, hissing at the stiffness in her fingers.
“Right,” she muttered, more to herself, and turned to leave.
The woman fell into step beside her, hands folded neatly at her waist.
As Eiko crossed the outer ring of the arena, she passed the Half-Moon recruits drilling in a clean, synchronised line, their footwork crisp and steady. It was embarrassingly dignified and clean compared to her constant flailing and stumbling.
Vana, at the very edge of the formation closest to Eiko, had her short hair braided tight and high, her lovely uniform pristine. Not a smudge of dirt or blood in sight. The king really should have picked her instead. Even if she was a bit …
Her gaze snapped to Eiko, and a smile curved, slow and strange. Vana’s fighting form might have been improving, but it seemed that, over time, her mind was not. She used to have two voices: one calm and measured, the other almost manic, with a lilting, sing-song quality. Now she only had one.
“Well, well,” Vana sing-songed, loud enough that the nearby recruits faltered for half a heartbeat. “Look who it is.”
Eiko didn’t break stride. “Mind your own business,” she tossed out. Vana was harmless. Utterly insane, but harmless.
Vana drifted a step closer, her head tilted, her eyes bright with that gleam of wrongness Eiko sometimes saw when she was using her second sight. It was almost like Vana was now constantly conversing with voices nobody else could hear, always tilting her head and listening.
“Chosen, frozen,” Vana whispered, then louder, “gold-given, gold-driven.”
Eiko’s shoulders tightened, embarrassment heating her cheeks as the other Half-Moon recruits glanced over at them. “Would you stop?” she hissed.
Maelon and Lenny paused their grappling to listen in. The Ironglade man—Oren—and the Suntide man—Bram—both stepped away from each other to wipe sweat from their brows, regarding Vana and Eiko in a bored sort of way.
Vana had been sparring alone, if that was even possible. Her smile widened, and her voice slipped into a rhyme that had the hair standing up along Eiko’s arms.
“Not the meek and not the mild, they wanted hungry and wild. Not the sun that keeps its place, but the moon with shrouded face.”
Eiko stopped dead, because her second sight had suddenly flared sharper with the spike of adrenaline, and for a moment, she saw everything too vividly—the flecks of sweat on Vana’s throat, the tiny twitch at the corner of her mouth, the way her pupils were far too dilated in the sunlight.
And the colour that curled from her mouth.
Alabaster, bone-frosted white.
Truth.
The fuck? she grumbled to Hymn, wrestling the colours back under her control before they burned through her.
It’s the truth, Hymn said, uneasily. Whatever she said, it was true.
Vana leaned in closer. “I wasn’t chosen,” she breathed. “You were.”
Eiko’s jaw clenched. “Yes, believe it or not, I’ve been made aware of that.”
Vana’s gaze flickered, eyeing her carefully. “They’ll dress you up, they’ll lace you tight, make you sparkle.” Her voice dropped. “Breed you right.”
Eiko took a single step forward, just enough to invade Vana’s space. “You can shut the fuck up,” Eiko said quietly, “Or I’m going to show you exactly what Eclipse training has done for my patience.”
Because that was all Eclipse training had done for her.
It had eroded her patience.
Vana’s smile twitched, delighted instead of threatened. “Ohh,” she sang, backing away with theatrical grace. “Temper, ember.”
Light protect us, Eiko inwardly groaned. She’s completely lost it.
Almost, Hymn agreed.
Almost? she questioned as she stalked away, the attendant hurrying after her.
There’s some distance to go, Hymn said. If she had lost her mind completely, her monster would have broken out. She’s hanging on. For now.
Eiko frowned, glancing over her shoulder at Vana—at the Half-Moon section leaders. They stared at Vana the same way she felt Chasin constantly staring at her.
Yikes.
She shook her head and turned to scan the Crescent section as she passed, cataloguing the familiar faces—Ky’s easy steadiness, Ren’s restless energy, the familiar roll of Kaito’s broad shoulders. Rion wasn’t there. Eiko slowed, frowning, searching.
Where is she? she muttered to Hymn.
No idea, I’ve been with you the whole time, getting abused by Cairn.
The attendant let out a small, frustrated sigh, anticipating another interruption, so Eiko picked up her step again. They veered towards the outer gates of the arena, and some of the tightness around Eiko’s throat loosened when she spotted Rion waiting in the courtyard.
She was still in her gold uniform, a smear of dust across one cheek, the hair at her temple dampened by sweat like she had been yanked away mid-drill.
“Eiko,” she said, relieved.
Eiko stopped in front of her. “You too?”
Rion’s mouth curved faintly, almost apologetic. “At least we won’t have to do it alone.” She flicked a glance over Eiko’s bruises and then looked away again, a small spasm of worry crossing her face before she wrangled it beneath her calm mask.
They followed the attendant through the royal grounds and into Brightfort, the gates, doorways, and staircases now guarded by Kingsguard soldiers in startling, bright silver-white uniforms with faces like stone.
“What’s going on?” Rion whispered to her. “There are soldiers everywhere.”
The attendant perked up, hearing the question. “The Kingsguard have been posted throughout the castle for the Copperlight Ball, since Brightfort will be housing many noble families from the nearest and furthest reaches of Lyra.”
Eiko tripped on the staircase she had been climbing, accidentally hitting her shin and dropping her cane. Rion righted her and continued walking like nothing had happened. But Eiko was stuck on a singular thought.
“All the noble families?” she asked, strained.
“All who have accepted the invitation,” the attendant replied brightly, much more animated now that she was free of the Godsguard grounds. “I can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t accept.”
“The Lord and Lady of Stonesigh,” Eiko blurted. “They hate outsiders. Did they accept?”
“They have accepted,” the attendant said excitedly, completely missing the subtle dread in Eiko’s tone. “They arrived this morning.”
Eiko glanced at Rion, whose mouth was twisted into a sad frown.
“Do the Godsguard attend the Copperlight thingy?” Eiko asked the attendant.
“Thingy?” the attendant squeaked, colour rising in her cheeks. “Uh, not exactly. The commander will be in attendance as the King of All’s youngest son. And some of his captains and other higher-ranking Godsguard members will be there in uniform, for protection.”
Ky wouldn’t have to see his family.
That was a small blessing.
But Eiko would have to see them. And this time, Ky wouldn’t be there to hold her hand and stop her from stabbing any of them with her dinner utensils.
Finally, the attendant paused and muttered, “We’re here,” before she opened a set of double doors.
The room beyond was violently beautiful. Mirrors lined two walls, gold filigree framing them, fabric draped in waterfalls of silk across golden statues of men and women, sunlight fracturing through the mottled glass windows into molten shards across the floor.
Unfortunately, the beautiful room wasn’t empty.
The entire royal family was there. King Grigori in navy-blue splendour, Queen Noemi cool and cold in ice-blue velvet.
Ceran and Corvan, both already perched on small platforms, measuring tape stretched down their long legs by male attendants.
Several female attendants hovered in wait for Rion and Eiko like nervous birds.
And, off to one side, half in shadow, was Chasin. He glanced up from a timepiece as they entered, a dark scowl on his face.
His gaze drifted over Eiko’s face, sweeping briefly across the bruised skin she had on display before slamming back to her eyes. She almost recoiled, her second sight wobbling in fear before she forced it to sharpen.
“Light above,” Queen Noemi spluttered, also eying Eiko. “What in the dark have you done to the poor girl, Chasin?”
Chasin ignored the question, checking his timepiece again.
King Grigori scoffed. “Quit checking that infernal thing. You’ll be back to your precious barracks when I’m done with you.”
Chasin finally shoved the timepiece into his pocket and turned more fully into the room, signing something at his father.
You don’t need me here.
Eiko was shocked that she understood the signing, despite her many weeks of tireless study.
“Your post does not excuse you from your role in this family,” the king snarled, the air turning momentarily oppressive, stifling, before he seemed to reel in whatever had come over him.
He turned back to the doorway. His thick lips unfurled into a forced smile, which faltered the second he set his eyes on Eiko again, those golden orbs crawling over her thinned and battered form.
“Is she fucking sick?” he demanded, that stifling power exploding outward again as he rounded on Chasin.
Bad at training, Chasin signed carelessly back.
King Grigori rolled his eyes up to the ceiling like he was praying to the sun for patience, and then he glared at his wife, silently commanding her to get the fitting underway.
“Shall we get started?” Queen Noemi stood, smoothing her beautiful skirts and angling her body to face Rion, probably hoping to forget that Eiko was even there. “You will be the sparkling gem of the Copperlight Ball, my dear.”
“Who, me?” Eiko asked, before she could bite back the words.
Rion coughed politely, which Eiko took as a personal achievement. Almost breaking her poised best friend in front of the entire royal family was something she might brag to her grandchildren about, one day.
Queen Noemi looked at her like she was stupid as well as blind. Corvan blinked at her like she was Kira and he had forgotten her existence entirely. King Grigori looked at her in confusion. The attendants looked embarrassed for her.
Ceran was wiping his mouth to erase a smile.
Chasin’s lips twitched, though he was staring out of the window.
They got her, those two.
Ew, what?