Chapter 17 #3
The interruption cuts through my absent thoughts. Sandria holds out the decanter. Behind her, Daisy chats with the good-looking imperialist soldier with acne scars who traveled with me from the cottage.
“Sure.”
Screw it. I already feel a million miles outside myself. Why not go a little further and try something new?
Sandria pours me a glass. I lift it to my lips, then gag as the foul taste hits me.
“It’s rotten!” I say, shoving it back toward her. A bit sloshes onto my dress.
Great. One sip and I’m a sloppy drunk.
“It’s not rotten.” Sandria laughs. “It’s excellent.” She sips the bloodred drink appreciatively.
“If you say so.” When she hands the glass back, I set it next to my plate. It’s undisturbed for the rest of the meal.
The food makes up for the wine. Tonight’s spread is decadent: whole roast peacocks, towering cakes with sparkling candles, platters overflowing with sausages, vegetables, and woven breads.
We eat until we’re stuffed. Then the band strikes up, and the crowd joins in a round of drinking songs with lyrics reworked to suit the occasion.
When a song recounts an escapade involving Finn, Sebastian, and the Sulish royals, the whole crew roars with laughter.
I finally reach for the wine. Force a sip.
The alcohol seems to work a little. The room grows fuzzy and dark; though I hoped the drink would make me feel more present, more human, I fear it’s done the opposite.
Davina takes the stand for an announcement. She’s radiant in a long-sleeved gown of Verdish velvet. The queen waits for silence before addressing the crowd.
“Twenty-three years ago, our beloved Prince Sebastian turned me into a mother,” her speech begins.
“Anyone who knows my son can attest that a more clever, beautiful, compassionate boy has never lived. I am forever grateful to the Almighty for entrusting us with such a son. Our family has been immeasurably blessed by his goodness and light. Hopefully, one day, he will share that light with the entire kingdom.”
Clapping rings through the chamber. My eyes go to Finn, whose face is hard.
“Tonight, my sweet boy, as we celebrate your golden name day, I wanted to impart a gift that’s as special as you are.” Davina smiles at Sebastian and stretches a hand toward the doors. “So, without further ado…”
The doors swing open, and the party turns as one to watch a team of soldiers march in.
There’s half a dozen of them working together to hoist a huge metal box.
I know I’m not alone in my confusion when the hall starts accumulating whispers.
At first, I think it’s a coffin. My chest twists as I recall the horrors of the last feast. What do they have planned this time?
As the soldiers approach, I realize my mistake. They’re not carrying a coffin. It’s a cage. It’s made of thick slabs of metal, and I can tell it’s heavy from how much they’re struggling. But I can’t understand why they are carrying a cage until they’re closer. And when I realize…
It’s like I’ve burst into flames.
The fyrehound they’ve captured is juvenile.
Barely more than a pup. According to the stories, full-grown fyrehounds should stand taller than a horse; the creature within the cage can’t be much larger than Dante.
But I’d guess he can probably breathe fyre already.
The pup’s size is comically mismatched with the ominous cage that it’s trapped in.
Through the bars, I catch glimpses of coal-black fur with snowy tufts, and big golden eyes wide with terror.
Davina resumes speaking. “Tonight, we will celebrate this special occasion—”
But then she’s interrupted by an agonized howl.
Glass shatters as several guests drop their cups. Many clutch their ears, and whispers erupt. One lady starts shrieking.
Davina flounders. She’s lost their attention but chooses stubbornly to continue. “In commemoration of the light that you are—” Her voice rises forcefully, but the howling drowns her out. She gets louder: “TONIGHT YOU AND YOUR GUESTS WILL CELEbrATE THIS TREASURED NAME DAY WITH AN HONORED TRADITION—”
“Get on with it already!” a drunken man roars.
“SO LET THE HUNT BEGIN!”
A cheer erupts, rising almost to the same volume as the howling.
The pain of my Talent is all that I can think about, a fire that rises to match the hound’s agonized pleas. I’m far, far outside myself. I might be watching from the clouds.
I lose sight of Finn amid the shuffle of revelers. Everyone’s jovial, everyone’s thrilled. My guts feel leaden as the cage is lofted and the soldiers carry it out toward the sprawling lawn. A cacophony of scraping chairs and clattering plates follows.
“I don’t know about you, but I’ve got no appetite for hunting,” says Sandria, with an abrupt yawn. She taps one cousin on the shoulder, signaling for the pair to follow her. “Have fun without me.”
I watch her go, feeling perplexed. I assumed she’d be keen to enjoy the merriment as long as it lasted. The princess strikes me as the type who’d squeeze all the revelry out of life that she can.
I’m very aware of the whooping and hollering as the princes and their cohorts hype themselves up for the hunt.
Daisy snatches my hand. Her face is alight with the same excitement as the crowd’s. “Come on! Let’s try to get a good spot,” she says, tugging me forward.
Half of me wants to follow Sandria to our rooms. But the other half feels duty bound to witness this. So I let Daisy drag me with the throng of partygoers onto the lawn.
Wrong. This is wrong. The injustice blasts through me like flashes of lightning.
Can I reach the fyrehound before the hunters and intercede?
I know the land better. The hills in Easton are not dissimilar to the Ironwoods.
I know how to cross the narrow canyons and become invisible in the labyrinth of pines.
The smell of the forest and the cold east wind around me are aching reminders of the home I ran away from.
The stars are spectacular, but I have no heart to appreciate them.
A crowd has gathered, and stable hands have brought up a dozen horses for Sebastian and his friends. Finn is among them, naturally. So is Damien. Everyone’s grinning. Everyone’s excited to be doing this.
What in the hell am I doing here?
I feel like I’m burning to death.
Fyrehounds are peaceful creatures. They don’t hunt like normal hounds or wolves. They burrow and eat coal, and can have near-immortal lifespans. Queen Soleste’s bonded hound is said to have lived for five hundred years. To see one bound in a cage like this…a pup…
Something inside me is breaking, rending.
Will it be Finn who deals the final blow? Could I ever touch him again after that?
I’m only distantly aware of my surroundings as Daisy chatters excitedly by my side. Then comes the countdown, when the crowd roars with one accord: “FIVE! FOUR!”
I am silent. Petrified. Do something, that voice inside me roars. Save it! But I feel rooted to the spot. Powerless.
The stars pitch around me.
“THREE! TWO! ONE!”
The cage door crashes open. The fyrehound streaks into the fading twilight, disappearing into the forest just as a great explosion of light and color erupts overhead. Fireworks.
The hunters shoot off, Finn among them. I lose sight of him within the horde. Their excitement is audible for a long while after they’ve disappeared.
And the fyrehound’s howls soar above me, on and on.