Chapter 10
State dinners were always held in the same vast cavern—the only place I’d ever seen that was large enough to hold the thousands of faeries attending. They were the few events all Noble Fae were invited to, regardless of their rank within a house.
I lingered at the top of the ramp leading into the space, taking in the sight.
Pearly stalactites hung far above, and stalagmites strained towards them.
In a few places, they’d met and merged into rippled, uneven columns.
The hum of conversation echoed off stone as faeries greeted one another and moved to their tables.
“It’s beautiful,” Lara said beside me. “Imogen is making her mark.”
She was. Shimmering rainbow fabric wound around the pillars, and what looked like enormous soap bubbles floated amidst the faerie lights overhead, each containing a dancing pixie the length of a finger. An invisible orchestra played while ribbon-twirling acrobats leapt through the aisles.
My eyes went to the dining table atop the dais. Drustan and Oriana sat at one end, while Hector sat at the other. In the middle were three faeries I’d never seen before.
Princess Imogen—I refused to consider her a queen—sat in the center.
The bodice of her dress was pink, deepening to purple at the ends of her billowing sleeves.
She had a large quantity of mink-brown hair piled on top of her head, and there was a fox-like quality to her features—high forehead, small nose, pointed chin.
It was impossible to tell from here if her eyes were as purple as Osric’s had been.
To her left, between Imogen and Hector, sat two faeries wearing white. Torin and Rowena of Light House, presumably, both glittering with diamonds. Torin had a sturdy build and hair like bronze, while Rowena was beautiful in the way of a sunrise, with pink cheeks and pale gold braids.
A single empty chair waited between Drustan and Oriana.
I pressed a hand to my stomach. “I’m nervous,” I admitted. An understatement.
“She’s not going to kill us at the dinner announcing the Accord.” Lara tapped her finger against her chin. “At least not until after dessert.”
I gave her an annoyed look. “Not helpful. And I’m nervous about more than that. I’m supposed to act like a princess, and I have no idea how.”
“You’ll do fine. Just sit there and look pretty.”
Lara was the expert at that, not me. She was smiling prettily right now, fluttering a black lace fan and looking like she didn’t have a care in the world.
Her crimson ball gown was covered with silver netting and tied with black ribbons, and her dark hair was held back in a matching silver net.
Blood House colors looked stunning on her, but it couldn’t have been easy to put that dress on tonight, knowing it would remind everyone of the colors she used to wear.
My own dress was a deep oxblood red. The flaring sleeves were loose enough to allow Caedo to coil beneath, and the wide, straight neckline showed the line of my collarbones.
It was simple as ball gowns went, adorned with small pieces of jet along the neckline and hem, but the fabric shimmered with the slightest movement, catching the eye with flashes of brighter red.
My skin gleamed, too—that faint faerie luster that marked me as something no longer human.
Strange to look at. Stranger to be.
We’d helped each other get ready, trading off the role of handmaiden, and that help had been essential when applying the final accessory we both wore.
A whisper-thin chain crossed my right palm, anchored around my wrist and fingers.
It had appeared on the counter when I’d gone to retrieve cosmetics—the silver of the silvered event, an unspoken promise we were all making to keep the peace.
Swords weren’t allowed tonight as part of the tradition, and daggers were to be tied in place with ceremonial peace knots, but other than that, symbolism was our only protection.
I raised my hand, looking at the shine of the chain. “This is flimsy armor.”
“No one’s broken a silvered vow before,” Lara said.
“There’s a first time for everything.”
“Imogen is trying to position herself as a more reasonable ruler than Osric. She isn’t going to start her reign by declaring a formal peace and then immediately violating it in front of nearly the entirety of Mistei.”
Lara was right. The Fae were liars, but they also cared deeply about appearances.
They sent one another countless tiny messages in the form of jewelry, dress, posture, lingering looks, the brush of a hand over a throat or a weapon…
What they couldn’t say out loud, they often said in other ways.
This chain was one of those messages, which meant that while it was on display, we should be safe.
Feeling a little better, I ran a finger over the chain, which was warming from my body heat. “I wish all events in Mistei were silvered.” This would apparently be infrequent even during the Accord—just at the major gatherings.
“Then someone would definitely break the tradition.” Lara moved her hand in artful twirls to make her chain shift and shine. “It has to be rare or no one would respect it.”
I wasn’t sure how she managed to look so confident and unruffled, considering the circumstances, but if she could do it, so could I.
I breathed in, imagining a cord anchored to the top of my head that would pull my posture straight.
Smiles didn’t seem right for the Blood princess, so I thought of blank sheets of paper and icy winter ponds and shaped my face accordingly.
A few faeries were still entering, moving past us down the ramp, but we were verging on being late. We were going to attract notice no matter what—might as well get it over with. “Come on,” I told Lara, picking up my skirts. “Let’s give them something to talk about.”
The low, thick heels of my boots clicked against the ramp as we made our way down.
I had opted against the bejeweled slippers the wardrobe had tried to foist on me.
Silvered tradition or not, I wanted to be able to run if I had to.
As we walked down the central aisle, a shift in sound marked our passing.
First came a breathless silence as faeries got a good look at us.
I could tell what they were thinking— Is that the human who became a princess?
Is that the former Earth heir wearing Blood House attire? Then came the swelling murmurs.
Prickles raced over my skin, and I felt hot and cold in waves. There were so many eyes on us, so many people whispering and judging. As a servant, I’d been unremarkable and overlooked. A curiosity at best, but mostly an accessory for Lara.
Now everyone was staring.
I focused on the dais, trying to pretend the rest of the room wasn’t there.
The replacement of King Osric and Prince Roland wasn’t the only change the high table had undergone, and it was strange not to see Kallen up there.
I wondered if he was watching me from whichever Void table he’d been seated at.
Probably. No, definitely. Kallen watched everyone, but he’d always kept a particularly close eye on me.
Lara peeled away near the dais to take her seat at the last remaining empty table, and I mounted the steps alone.
Imogen smiled as she watched me approach. Her eyes were lavender, and my skin crawled. It wasn’t the intense amethyst of Osric’s eyes, but it was far too close.
Did she hate me for killing him? Or was she grateful, since it meant she could step into the vacated position?
“Princess Kenna,” she said as I approached.
“How good of you to join us.” Her voice was a rich alto, as beautiful as the rest of her.
A lace collar sprouted around her throat, held in place by metal boning, and her golden-brown skin was dusted with an iridescent powder that made her cheekbones stand out.
The way she sat shining at the center of everything made me think of a carnivorous plant, petals spread in anticipation of whatever bumbling insect came too near.
“Princess Imogen,” I replied. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”
Her eyes narrowed. “ Queen Imogen.”
I made a noncommittal noise in reply to the correction, then circled around the table and took my seat between Drustan and Oriana.
The Earth princess looked at me neutrally from her spot on my left. “Princess Kenna.”
Bitch , I wanted to say back. This was the first time she’d seen Lara since disowning her, and I hoped it hurt. “Oriana.”
If she minded that I didn’t greet her with her title, she didn’t say anything.
The air was warm to my right, and I steeled myself before turning my head in that direction. “Drustan. I hope you are well tonight.”
He certainly looked well, all leonine grace and relaxed posture. His tunic was golden as the sun and dotted with rubies, and two braids held the front of his long hair back from his face. “Kenna,” he said, nearly a purr. “You look exquisite.”
I did, but it was none of his business anymore. I reached for my wine. It was a light, translucent red that didn’t taste nearly bitter enough for how I felt seated between these two.
The seating arrangement on the dais was purposeful, I was sure.
Imogen had taken care to position Drustan and Hector as far away from her as possible, where they couldn’t speak to each other.
She’d placed Torin on her left and Oriana on her right—her closest ally and the neutral party on the dais.
Rowena went beside Torin, of course, and Imogen had stuck me in the last spot.
Not that it mattered much where I ended up.
Every other house head was tied to a section of this room—patches of Light white and Void black, the colorful shimmer of Illusion, spots of flame-bright fabric for Fire House and the green and blue of Earth.
Looking out over the vast sea of the Fae, it became even clearer the issue of scale I was up against.