Chapter 22
Hector hosted a party on the eighth night of the Accord.
It was a surprise to receive the invitation, inked in silver on black paper.
Void House didn’t host many events, and Hector in particular had been absent from most of the more frivolous court functions.
I couldn’t imagine him presiding over the typical drinks mixed with poisonous small talk.
It turned out to be an intimate gathering, consisting of Lara and me, a handful of Void nobles, and several Earth faeries.
The reception room was candlelit and opulent, with furniture upholstered in black-and-silver damask, a large crystalline globe containing decanters of alcohol, and shelves full of abstract sculptures.
The obsidian walls reflected wavering pinpricks of flame, and shadowy mist drifted over the floor, coiling around our ankles.
One of the guests was Lady Rhiannon, a powerful Earth faerie and Talfryn’s mother.
She was regal-looking, with eloquent dark eyes and long black hair she wore in braids.
Her green velvet gown was embroidered with three golden birds, and I remembered with a pang seeing Talfryn wearing a similar design the night he’d died.
“Lady Rhiannon,” Lara said, squeezing her hands. “It’s good to see you.”
“You, as well.” Rhiannon’s expression grew shadowed. “Earth House has lost much.”
Lara looked down at her feet. “I’m sorry. Talfryn was a good friend.”
“The Shards can be cruel.” Lady Rhiannon turned to me. “Princess Kenna. We have not officially met.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said, feeling wretched for being evidence of what the Shards had chosen not to do for Talfryn. “Your son was always kind to me.”
“Kindness is rarely rewarded.” Her eyes glistened, and she quickly covered them with her hand. A moment later, she straightened, having composed herself once more.
It was monstrous how genuine emotions—like grief, like love—had become too dangerous to express in Mistei.
“Oriana is not coming tonight,” Rhiannon told Lara.
Lara’s posture grew stiff. “I assumed.”
“She dishonors the title of mother, the way she dishonors the title of princess.” Rhiannon’s tone was suddenly vicious. “She did not want me to come, either, since it might shatter the illusion of neutrality to accept Void’s hospitality.”
“How can she say that when she attends Imogen’s events?” I asked.
“Oriana believes in traditions. She will treat Imogen as Osric’s successor until that is no longer the case.”
Hector arrived at my elbow, looking elegant in black brocade worked with a pattern of iron-gray vines. “It won’t be the case for long,” he said. “And Oriana will learn what comes of disguising cowardice as tradition.”
It was a shocking thing to say in front of one of the foremost ladies of Earth House. Rhiannon didn’t seem horrified, though. She signaled a servant, grabbed a glass of red wine off their tray, and raised it. “To the end of tradition.”
Hector didn’t pick up a glass of his own, but he did bow briefly. “I’m glad you’re here, Lady Rhiannon.”
“I’m not glad of much these days, but this is better than staying in that cage Oriana calls a house.” She sipped the wine, then grimaced and set it aside. “Wine is good for toasts, but it goes to my head too quickly.”
“There’s tea in the corner,” Hector said. “Our servants would be happy to pour you some.”
“I can pour my own tea, thank you.” Rhiannon extended her arm to Lara. “Will you join me, Lady Lara?”
Lara nodded, then took Rhiannon’s arm. They moved away together, shadows swirling in their wake.
“A party with Earth House,” I told Hector. “How interesting.” And Drustan, who was always dancing and flirting strategically with Earth ladies, was nowhere to be seen.
He grunted. “Surprised I know how to socialize?”
“You don’t seem fond of it in general.”
“It’s the usual company, not the activity itself, that bothers me.”
Una arrived then, clad in a midnight dress with feathers at the shoulders. “You don’t like the activity much, either,” she said, munching on a tiny chocolate cake.
“Remind me not to name you to any diplomatic positions,” he replied. “You’ll tell our allies I despise them, and then where will we be?”
His quick, dark wit still caught me off guard when it appeared. Hector looked ferocious normally, all sharp edges and frowns. He seemed more likely to stab someone than joke with them, no matter how caustic the humor.
Una smiled. “You don’t despise Queen Briar.”
“Because Briar is actually competent.”
The mention of Elsmere’s queen intrigued me. “How long have you been in communication with her?”
“Personally? Since Beltane. Kallen kept up a correspondence with her before that, though. He had a feeling King Godwin was growing weary of the responsibility, so he made connections with a few possible candidates. Briar seemed the least likely, but she was also the one with the biggest ideas. And then it happened faster than we imagined.”
The mention of Kallen made me glance around the room, and I fought a surge of disappointment when I didn’t see him. “How did he even communicate with her with the wards up?”
“Pigeons.”
I snorted, but Hector was looking at me like it wasn’t a joke. “Seriously?” I asked.
“Osric’s wards were aimed at faeries and humans, not animals.”
Messenger pigeons seemed so mundane for the Fae. But that must be precisely the point. The Fae disregarded everything they considered beneath them.
Hector was regarding me thoughtfully. “You’re the reason we were ready when that transition happened.”
I grimaced. “Kallen’s blackmail, yes.”
He shrugged. “It’s effective.” He didn’t look sorry, but honestly, I liked that better than him pretending otherwise.
“I didn’t know what I was telling Kallen at the time,” I admitted. “I didn’t even know what Elsmere was. I was just trying to make him go away.”
Una raised a hand to her mouth, covering her smile. “You should tell him that.”
“I’m sure he already knows.” I watched Rhiannon and Lara begin a discussion with an imposing-looking Void lady over the tea tray. “Were Drustan and Gweneira invited?”
“They were,” Hector confirmed. “But their invitations may have had a small error in the start time.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. Hector was starting his politicking early. “Drustan won’t like that.”
“Drustan doesn’t dictate my schedule or who I speak with. On that note,” he said, reaching for a scroll tucked into the pouch at his belt, “I have something for you.”
I accepted it, studying the black wax seal. “Another policy?” Like Drustan, he’d sent a few—scribbled promises about everything from border security to a more robust trial system—and I’d already received a letter from both of them today.
“Details on how I see our relationship with Elsmere progressing beyond the war. We’ve been isolated for so long that we’re barely aware of what’s happening in the larger world. We need a strong ally before our return to greater visibility.”
I had no idea what was happening in the larger world, either.
We hadn’t been taught much in school other than the details of Enterra’s history and a bit about our immediate neighbors.
And that was only the human world we’d learned about—I knew nothing about faerie politics.
I tucked the scroll into my skirt pocket. “I’ll read it.”
“How have you liked the others I’ve sent?” he asked, watching me closely.
I hesitated. “They all sound fine.”
“Fine,” he echoed, his habitual frown deepening.
“Good, even.” Like Drustan, Hector wasn’t just touching on trade and warfare—he was making promises about changelings and protections for servants and humans. The two of them were in agreement about a surprising number of things, considering how much they despised each other.
“But?” he pressed.
Nervousness fluttered through me. “But I don’t know you. And…” I trailed off.
Hector watched me, waiting.
Kallen must have spoken to him by now. What was the best way to bring this up? “I heard a rumor,” I settled on.
A violent expression tore across his face, and he looked away. “So I was told.”
I swallowed, feeling even more anxious. “Kallen says it isn’t true.” And I trusted his word more than most, but…
“But?” Hector said, as if he had intuited my thoughts.
I took a deep breath, then squared my shoulders. “I need to hear what happened from you.”
Drustan had been vague about the specifics, but Mistei was full of enough monsters that I’d filled in the gaps. He likes them a little less noble. A little more defenseless.
Fact and fiction blurred in Mistei, but this was a principle I would not bend on.
If Hector was a predator as Drustan had implied—if he was anywhere close to it—I would choose Drustan as king.
And if Kallen had lied to me on Hector’s behalf, made excuses for a crime he knew had occurred, I would be done with him, too.
The silence felt heavy. Una was watching Hector, though I couldn’t read her expression.
“You might as well ask me to cut my heart out of my chest,” Hector said, low and fierce. He turned and stalked away.
Una looked after her brother, a crease between her brows, before her gaze snapped back to me. She did not look friendly. “Sit with me, Princess Kenna.”
I nodded, nerves prickling with apprehension, and followed her to two chairs tucked into a corner.
She didn’t waste time with small talk. “You ask much of him.”
“He wants to be king. I won’t ask less.”
She tapped her fingers against her knees.
Her dark brown eyes were fixed on me like she was trying to look beneath my skin.
She hadn’t lost any of the controlled intensity that had made her such a ferocious competitor during the trials, and it took effort not to squirm under that stare.
“Kallen thinks he should tell you. I was shocked when he suggested it.”
“Why?”
“Because Void is a house of secrets.” She paused. “He thinks highly of you. It’s…unusual.”