Chapter 19 Reyla
Reyla
The painted queen's whisper echoed in my mind.
“What did you just say?” My voice cut through the dinner conversation.
Across from me, a woman startled so violently her hand hit her wineglass, and it toppled, sending crimson liquid across the white tablecloth like spilled blood.
“Lady Hesta,” the queen chided, glaring in the flushed woman’s direction. She lifted her hand, and guards stomped across the room, surrounding the lady. They ripped her chair back, and while she shrieked and kicked, they dragged Lady Hesta from her seat and out of the room.
Silence descended, though only for a blink before low conversation and the clink of spoons tapping against glass bowls drifted through the room again.
Lore’s hand tightened around mine, and he glared at the door where they’d taken Lady Hesta.
Queen Naveer behaved as if nothing had happened, speaking with a man beside her.
“What did you do with Lady Hesta?” My words shot through the room, bringing the conversation and bowl clinks to a halt again.
Queen Naveer turned, her gaze settling on me. “Follow her, and you will not only find out, but you will also join her in her punishment.”
“Punishment?” My eyebrows lifted high enough to brush tendrils of hair dangling on my forehead. “She accidentally knocked over her wine. She didn’t stab her knife into the woman seated beside her.”
That woman stiffened but remained in her seat, looking down at her soup.
“She soiled the tablecloth,” Naveer drawled. “Surely you agree that she made a mess.”
“But she—”
“Don’t do this,” Dorion whispered in my ear.
Biting back my anger, I jerked out a nod and swallowed.
“You’re quite right,” I said in a stilted voice.
Queen Naveer fed me a smile that didn’t reach her dark eyes. “I thought you’d agree.” She turned back to the man to continue her conversation.
The servants swept in again, removing our soup bowls, their expressions blank.
They moved like they’d been choreographed, replacing the soup with the second course, a long, thin slice of fish draped in pink sauce and ringed with bright red seeds.
Delicately placed strands of multi-colored vegetables lay beside the fish like seaweed washed up on a shore.
The fishy scent overwhelmed me. I took one bite and set my fork back down.
“Don’t like it?” Lore asked, his thigh brushing mine.
“I’m not hungry.” It was only partially true. Good food, I could eat. But this felt tainted. Everything about Irridain Court unsettled me in a way I couldn’t explain, and it wasn’t only the queen’s twisted sense of justice. This place had a veneer of beauty, but something nasty festered beneath.
I tugged my gaze from the portrait, where the woman’s eyes and mouth had not moved, and directed my attention to Laphira.
She hadn't even shifted since we'd sat down. Not a gesture, a glance, or even the natural fidgeting that comes with being human.
The princess’s hands rested on the table on either side of her plate.
Her gown hugged her slender body, and she’d arranged her dark hair on her head like all the other women, in a braided crown.
Her head was tilted back slightly as if she was studying the chandelier above, the one I only now noted had been constructed of grotesque, waxen skulls laid out in a broad ring with thick, cream-colored candles mounted on the top of each head.
At first, I thought she was admiring the monstrous structure. Then I realized she wasn’t looking at it at all, just facing in its direction, her gaze unblinking.
A servant appeared at her elbow with a bottle of wine, ready to refill her goblet that appeared untouched.
The instant the bottle tilted, Laphira sucked in a breath.
Her shoulders tensed, and her hands twitched on the table.
For an instant, her serenity cracked. She smiled, the movement almost mechanical, like a doll being directed by a child.
Her mother’s slick smile rose, and when I met her eyes, she winked.
Chills wracked through my frame while the servant bowed and slipped away.
Dorion leaned closer to me, keeping his voice low. “It’s Laphira, but I don’t understand. She hasn’t said a thing to me, no matter what I say.”
Pain flickered across his face as he watched her. His fingers drummed against his plate in a nervous rhythm.
“Maybe she isn’t feeling well. She might not want to talk to a stranger.”
“I’ve said all sorts of things, ones that in the past might make her laugh. I’ve even insulted her, but she hasn’t responded.”
Leaning forward slightly, I studied her while she continued to stare at the chandelier.
“Laphira?” he said softly. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
She didn’t react. Didn’t turn his way.
Dorion’s jaw clenched. His hand rose, hovering in the air as if he was going to touch her shoulder but couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. He drew back, his hand dropping back onto his thigh.
“She’s too kind to ignore someone,” he whispered.
Yet she was. Perhaps she had changed.
Movement above caught my eye. The chandelier swayed, though no breeze stirred the air.
The candle flames flickered in unison, then steadied. But something was wrong with the wax. Instead of normal dripping, thick drops formed in the eye sockets of each skull.
They drizzled down the skeletal cheekbones like tears.
My breath caught as the waxy drops hit and pooled on the golden ring below.
The skulls were weeping.
Then a drop flew wide, hitting the stone wall behind a woman wearing a pale green gown. She didn’t appear to notice. No one else looked up from their conversation or meal.
Another drop arced toward me, landing on the back of my hand lying on the table.
I hissed and yanked my hand close, pressing my napkin against my skin. When I pulled the napkin away, the hot wax had left a red welt.
I looked back up, and horror crawled up my spine.
Every skull had Laphira's face. Dozens of her stared down with that same vacant expression. The carved features were perfect, from her delicate nose, the arch of her brows, to the intricate braids of her hair formed in waxy detail.
A room full of the princess's severed heads watched us dine.
A strangled sound ripped up my throat. I shoved back from the table, my chair shrieking across the stone as my heart slammed against my ribs.
Reyla? Lore reached for my arm. What’s wrong? His voice turned deadly. Point to the threat, and I'll end it.
I forced myself to look again, but now the candelabra was just a sculpture made of wax balls and wicks and flame. No skulls. No Laphira faces.
“I’m fine,” I said, my voice thin, settling back in my seat.
He didn’t believe me. I could see it in the tense line of his shoulders, the way he moved closer, his fingers stroking my thigh. It reminded me I wasn't facing this nightmare alone.
The servants cleared the table for the next course. The fish vanished, replaced with a whole tiny bird right down to its beak, tail, and feathers. How could I eat something like that?
Across from me, Lady Hesta had returned, her eyes bloodshot and feverish. Someone had placed a fresh glass of wine in front of her, but she didn’t touch it. She moved in a stilted way. Her lips quivered, but she ate. Faked a laugh or two.
She kept glaring at me. We’d yet to speak, but I’d made an enemy.
Dessert came next, a delicate tart of violet-horig and something creamy, glittering with gold dust. Cordial glasses half-full of lavender fluid were placed beside each setting.
I couldn’t bring myself to taste. Couldn’t bring myself to drink.
When the castle guests had placed their forks on their empty plates, Queen Naveer stood.
Every person in the room other than me, Dorion, Lore, and Laphira jerked to their feet and lifted their cordial glasses as if controlled by invisible strings.
“Let us honor those who came before,” the queen said in a bright voice.
Lore, Dorion, and I rose, lifting our glasses as well, waiting for the queen’s next cue.
The guests began to chant in unison, their voices weaving together in an ancient language that made my skin crawl. Their words were hauntingly beautiful and unnervingly synchronized to Naveer’s.
Lore leaned toward me, translating. Dorion stared our way, watching Lore’s lips move.
“Honor those who walked before. Their sacrifice opens every door. By choice they gave what could not be taken. So future paths might yet awaken. Time bends back for those who serve. The willing heart gets what they deserve.”
“Well, that sucks,” Dorion snarled.
The flames in the chandelier sputtered, and the room plunged into darkness. A shudder shot through me.
A blink, and the candles relit as quickly as they’d gone out.
Everyone had returned to their chairs and were drinking. Laughing. Talking as though nothing had happened.
Lore, Dorion, and I settled in our seats, sharing a long look. We’d talk about this later. For now, we’d watch.
When the after-dinner cordial glasses and dessert plates had been removed from the table, the queen’s chair scraped back, and she rose again, lifting her voice.
“All contestants will meet in the foyer promptly at eight bells tomorrow morning for instructions regarding the first trial.” Her head swiveled in her daughter’s direction.
“Laphira, attend me.” Her words cracked through the room like a whip.
Standing, the princess glided around the table, her skirts whispering across the floor.
The queen swept from the hall.
Laphira followed.
The doors slammed shut behind them with the sound of bone striking stone.
In the sudden silence, I could swear I heard the faint echo of chains rattling from somewhere deep within the castle walls.