Chapter 21
Imogen continued her onslaught of charm at event after event.
Concerts, extravagant meals, wine tastings that ended up more like wine guzzlings.
The Fae’s appetite for stimulation was vast, and she fed it with delight.
Most were more intimate affairs than the garden party had been, but as a princess I was apparently expected to attend all of them.
By the seventh day of the Accord, I never wanted to see Imogen—or another glass of wine—again.
It was a vain hope. A shipment of rare delicacies had arrived from Grimveld, delivered by faeries riding enormous winged bears, and she’d scheduled a party for that evening to enjoy the offerings.
Grimveld was a country northwest of Enterra, across the mountains called the Giants’ Teeth.
It was an icy, forbidding place, full of jagged peaks and glaciers, where night and day were rumored to last for six months at a time.
The faeries who lived in its frozen north were the traditional allies of Illusion House, according to Kallen, and everyone on the council agreed the shipment likely concealed weapons, just as Queen Briar was planning to supply Void House.
“Elsmere and Grimveld are ancient enemies,” Kallen explained to Lara and me as we headed to the party.
He’d been waiting outside Blood House to escort us, and though Lara was clearly unenthused, I was glad of his presence.
“They pretend to be cordial, but that political tension will explode into violence the moment Grimveld’s king starts listening to the wrong advisors.
Mistei’s conflict makes for an ideal proxy war. ”
“Proxy war?” I asked, unfamiliar with the term.
“A battle fought between two powers at a distance and without actually participating in the fighting.” We reached an intersection, and Kallen’s hand ghosted over my back briefly, guiding me to the right.
“Both kingdoms would benefit from a close alliance with Mistei now that we’re abandoning Osric’s isolationist policies, so they’ll arm the side of their choosing, watch us kill each other, and hope the outcome allows them to reap the benefits. ”
That sounded like meddling cowardice to me. “Didn’t Hector say Briar might send troops, though?”
“Yes, she’s open to direct intervention. That would be ideal—her soldiers are excellent, and we need the numbers.”
Lara was frowning. “If that happens, won’t Grimveld commit their troops to Imogen?”
“Likely so,” Kallen acknowledged. “Then it becomes a game of numbers and timing. Whose supporters arrive first, and in what amounts.”
I wondered if Kallen’s head ever ached from keeping track of so many different possibilities. It was intimidating to realize how many levels of strategy he had been considering leading up to this, from blackmailing servants to negotiating with foreign powers.
The party was held in the ballroom where the Illusion trial had occurred—not that I could remember the details of what that had involved.
Tall tables had been scattered throughout the center of the room, where the dancing would normally be, and faeries stood around them, eating and drinking.
Marble statues lined the perimeter, and the mirrored walls duplicated them and the extravagantly dressed Fae endlessly, giving the impression of a gathering many times the size.
My attention was drawn to seven transparent statues that had been erected at the front of the room. I startled when I realized one of them was me, with wild hair and a dagger clutched in its fist.
“Ice sculptures,” Kallen said. “Created by Grimveld’s master carvers and mystically enchanted not to melt. They were delivered this afternoon, along with quite a few barrels of wine.”
I tried not to gape. “No one’s even drawn a picture of me before.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Kallen glanced across the room, nodded at someone, and bowed to Lara and me. “Princess Kenna, Lady Lara, it’s been a pleasure. I have business to attend to, but I hope you enjoy the party.”
Lara watched him go with narrowed eyes. “I don’t trust him when he’s polite.”
“Do you ever trust him?”
“No.”
I laughed despite myself.
Lara’s gaze moved past me, and her face brightened. “Gweneira’s here already. I need to ask her about a book she sent me.” She hurried away in a flutter of silver gauze and red ribbons.
Knowing it was only a matter of time before I was dragged unwillingly into social encounters I’d rather not have, I positioned myself at a table draped with blush-pink fabric.
A bowl containing large, glistening red seeds had been placed in the center, and I studied it curiously.
This must be one of the delicacies sent from Grimveld.
A servant appeared holding a lily-shaped glass containing a purple liquid. “Ice wine aged beneath a glacier, my princess,” she said with a curtsy.
I accepted the offering and sipped curiously, then grimaced. If there was any wine in there, it was fortified with something, because though the beverage did taste vaguely of plums, it tasted more like cleaning products.
I reached for one of the seeds instead and was displeased to discover it was encased in a slimy membrane. Hoping the taste would make up for the appearance, I popped it in my mouth.
I immediately grabbed a napkin and spit it back out.
Hector chose that moment to appear at my left elbow. “Do you know how much that seed cost?” he asked.
“Too much, considering how it tastes.” Downright rancid, made worse by the mucus-like exterior. I grimaced and drank some ice wine to wash the taste away. The spirit seemed ambrosial in comparison.
When Hector named the amount, I nearly choked. “What?” I gasped.
“The plant it comes from only fruits once a decade under the light of an aurora.”
“A pity it’s that frequent.”
He chuckled, then popped a seed in his mouth. “Tastes like gold-plated shit.”
I stared at the crumpled-up napkin, which was now worth more than the majority of houses in Tumbledown. “What a waste.”
He grunted. “It’s coming from the crown’s funds, too. At this rate, she’ll beggar the realm before I can take over.”
I hadn’t spent much time in one-on-one conversation with Hector, and I eyed him warily.
His long black hair hung loose and his tunic was simple in cut, but closer inspection revealed a pattern of interlocking crowns worked in deepest gray across the fabric.
“Why is she allowed to use those funds when she isn’t officially queen yet? ” I asked.
“Unfortunately, she is the queen, according to Mistei’s laws. She’s Osric’s legal successor until she’s replaced.”
“And we can’t depose her until after the Accord.”
He nodded, narrowing his eyes in Imogen’s direction. “It was a clever move for many reasons. We’re in a gray area, and the longer she stretches it out, the more accustomed everyone grows to her rule.”
As I watched Imogen raise her ice wine in a toast, I had the uneasy thought that by forcing us to postpone the war, she might already be winning it.
Later that night, after far too many conversations with faeries aiming to interrogate, insult, or ingratiate themselves to me under the guise of small talk, I finally had a quiet moment to study the ice sculptures up close.
They were unsettlingly lifelike, and the chill emanating from them made me shiver.
Rowena approached, looking icelike herself in a crystal-encrusted gown.
She stopped beside me, admiring her own frozen visage.
“What a pleasure to see you, Princess Kenna. Did you know this ice has been enchanted to stay frozen for two months?” She gave me a simpering smile.
“Which do you suppose will last longer—your statue or you?”
Ever since the garden party, she’d had plenty of small barbs for me. Entertaining a secret fantasy of punching her, I forced myself to return that smile. “You know, I don’t think they got your statue quite right.”
“No?” She looked at it again, lips pursed. “What did they miss?”
“They only carved one face, when you clearly have two.”
She giggled. “I’ll have to tell Torin that one.”
She was so strange. She clearly wanted me dead, but like Imogen, she also seemed to find me entertaining. She hadn’t tried to kill me again, as far as I knew, but presumably that would be coming. Unless Imogen had ordered the Light faeries to stand down so she could try to win me over?
I glanced across the room and found Torin frowning at us. They seemed like an odd couple, one cheerful and one dour, but clearly they found something to admire in each other. “How long have you been with Torin?” I asked.
“We were born on the same day,” Rowena said dreamily, moving down the line to his statue and reaching up to cup its frozen cheek.
“Our mothers were cousins and best friends, and my mother had the midwife delay her labor to ensure we came into the world together. Since then, we’ve rarely been apart. ”
That was…a bit disturbing. “Was it a Blood House midwife?”
“It was.” She turned to face me again. Faerie lights floated overhead, striking glints off her gown and making her blond hair shine. “Will you begin offering those services yourself?”
“How can I, when you believe my statue will outlast me?”
“It doesn’t have to be that way. Imogen rewards her allies well.”
“Imogen certainly knows how to spend,” I said, casting a critical look at the nearest table with its bowl of abominable seeds. “There’s a human saying about people like that. Those who pour gold like water soon find themselves thirsty.”
The smile vanished from Rowena’s face, and something cold and hard looked out of her eyes. Then the happy, simpering mask was back, and she was giggling behind her hand. “How quaint. Do let us know if you feel like living longer, Princess Kenna.”