Chapter 38
Elva
I’ll never forget the masquerade ball after the second trial.
I’d got ready in Blaze’s rooms once she and Spinner had left, marvelling at the dazzling gold-silk gown and delicate mask adorned with tiny crescent moons – a subtle nod to my homeland. Hal had picked them out specially.
My disguise gave rise to a different kind of anonymity than the one I experience as a serf. I didn’t go unnoticed but rather blended in, just another masked, gold-clad courtier gliding gracefully through the crowd, gazed upon and admired, yet unidentifiable.
I met Hal in the gallery overlooking the ballroom, too high for prying Eyes. I remember how beautiful he looked, leaning against the wall, waiting for me.
Since I had never been taught, it came as little surprise that I was hopeless at dancing.
But Hal only smiled. Lifting me into his arms, he set my feet atop his and danced for us both.
And I forgot about his looming betrothal, and the scars of my past, and our uncertain future.
We were unburdened, happy. There was nothing else in the world but him and me.
We’re going to kill the emperor.
The memory shatters as I recall Ingra’s words, broken shards slicing my heart to ribbons as I relive what happened the night before in the broom cupboard.
I was frozen in place, unable to move, or think, or form a sentence.
The others seemed to interpret my horror as stunned exhilaration, for they all grinned conspiratorially at me.
At long last, when I’d finally regained the ability to speak, I looked straight at Ingra and asked the first of three questions: ‘Why?’
‘Seriously, Elva? Do you really have to ask?’ Ingra snorted derisively.
‘Because the Castellions are tyrants who’ve been enslaving our people for over fifty years.
And because the political climate in this Gods-forsaken empire is already so fragile that taking him out will cause it to topple like a house of cards.
Killing him will incite chaos.’ Her dark eyes flashed and her tone grew feverish with excitement.
‘His death is exactly what we need – the spark to fuel an uprising decades in the making. Besides, everyone knows he’s sickly.
I don’t imagine he’ll live long by the looks of him.
Why waste the opportunity to have his death pave the way for anarchy and revolt?
If he’s going to die, let it be for our cause, not theirs. ’
Everything she said seemed to tear me apart, right down the middle.
More than ever before, I became agonizingly aware of my own duality – that I am made up of two warring halves, forced to conceal one part of myself to preserve the other.
And I realized in that moment that I could no longer be one of them and be in love with Hal.
My voice was small as I uttered my second question: ‘How?’
Ingra understood what I meant. ‘Seth made a copy of the key to the armoury, so I’ll have my pick of the bunch. Though Ty’s right – the weapon should be something long-range.’ She smiled, a little sadly. ‘My father taught me how to shoot back in Veridia. I don’t miss.’
‘Let’s hope not,’ said Seth. ‘Because you’ve only got one shot at this.’
‘Literally,’ added Pip.
Ingra only smirked at them. ‘When it’s done, I’ll slip into the serf tunnels, where the others will be waiting.’
My eyes widened. ‘You mean …’
‘That there’s more of us in on the plan than just this lot?’ Ingra finished. ‘Of course. But we couldn’t risk meeting in large groups.’ She gave me an apologetic look. ‘I was going to tell you tonight, and ask you to join us.’
Guilt hacked into me like a blunt axe.
‘The Etheri have their magic but we have the numbers,’ she continued. ‘We have weapons and the element of surprise. And most importantly, we have nothing to lose.’
‘Well, except our lives,’ Clover pointed out dryly.
‘What lives?’ Ingra shot back. ‘This isn’t a life – this is an existence, and a pitiful one at that. If I don’t make it home, at least I’ll know that because of me someone else might.’
I remembered what she had told me all those years ago.
If I did nothing, I’d become nothing.
It appeared her courage was infectious, for the others all nodded.
Not for the first time, I found myself in awe of – and a little frightened by – Ingra’s boldness, her bravery, her unbroken spirit.
Perhaps I too would have revelled at her words, allowed them to raise me up and rally me to her cause, were she not planning on murdering the boy I love.
What was I supposed to do? Tell them Hal is nothing like his family? Tell them he was already planning on freeing them? And how would I tell them how I knew this?
‘We were going to delay a while,’ Ingra said. ‘But we heard the emperor is back on his feet, so I figured, why wait? Let’s strike while the iron is hot.’
It was then I asked my third and final question: ‘When?’
Ingra’s grin was catlike. ‘Tomorrow night.’
Which, despite how much I willed it not to, has now arrived.
I gaze out of the window in Elaith’s chambers at the crescent moon bathing Cor Caval in silvery light.
King Gethen of Vost, brother to the Empress Dowager and, so far, Hal’s only ally, arrived this afternoon.
He’s here to publicly pledge his allegiance, and presumably to negotiate the terms of whatever incentive Hal has agreed to grant him. Gold, I suspect.
Already I hear the courtiers making their way towards one of the countless gilded ballrooms, where a ball is being held in the Vosti King’s honour.
Vost is a kingdom rich with expensive fabric and materials.
It’s also one of the two places Hal said we might find my sister, if she’s still alive.
I wonder what Astrid would say, if she knew what I’m planning.
I catch sight of myself in the mirror and look away quickly, unable to meet my own eyes. A lifetime of regret will not be punishment enough for what I’m about to do.
Elaith hovers by the door, dressed in swathes of crimson gossamer, her red hair unbound round her shoulders, concealing her necklace of bruises.
‘Are you expecting someone?’ I ask.
She blinks, then blushes. ‘Oh, well, sort of. Cole said he’d come by and escort me, but he must be running late.’
I do my best to return her smile before excusing myself.
The ballroom is teeming, the air thick and close. I skirt the perimeter of the dance floor, searching for familiar faces.
Hal isn’t here yet.
If I didn’t know what was going on, I might not have noticed the way the serfs keep glancing furtively at one another, shifting on their feet. I can feel it – that nervous energy, the sense of waiting for something to happen.
Where is Ingra?
I spot Clover carrying a tray of empty glasses, watching as her gaze flickers to the gallery above, the same one where Hal and I had danced together at the masquerade ball.
A high vantage point – private, easily concealed. It’s the perfect spot.
I don’t hesitate before taking off, weaving like a needle through the crowd.
The gallery is empty save for an old golden harp sitting forgotten in the corner. I move to stand beside it, shadows shrouding me in darkness as I wait for her to appear.
A hush falls over the ballroom below.
‘His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Haldyn Castellion,’ a voice announces.
I peer over the golden railing to see Hal standing in the doorway, dressed in an elegant burnt-gold doublet.
To my surprise he looks if not better, then not worse.
The opium the physicians prescribed must be taking the edge off the pain, for he strides easily through the kneeling crowd, flanked by his mother and King Gethen – a portly, bearded man wearing a fine purple cloak.
I feel the scars littering my back twinge – a gift from his daughter, Princess Lira, who thought spilling some wine was deserving of a dozen lashes.
I remember it so clearly – the sharp whistle of the whip, my tunic ragged and covered in blood.
But I know in my heart I would do it all again just to save Pip from the same fate.
Which only makes what I’m about to do a hundred times harder.
Chatter resumes as the Etheri rise, with several couples taking to the dance floor. I wait with bated breath, my gaze fixed on the door to the gallery.
I hear her before I see her, my ears already attuned to the beating of her heart, thudding in time with my own.
Ingra slips through the door, a heavy-looking crossbow clutched in her arms. She props it on her hip while she wipes at the sweat dewing on her brow.
Then, cautiously, she moves forward, sinking into a crouch before the golden railing and scanning the ballroom for her target.
As soon as she spots Hal speaking politely with a group of Vosti courtiers, she nocks the single bolt, squeezes one eye shut and takes aim.
‘Ingra,’ I say, stepping out of the shadows.
She starts, and whips her head round. Then her mouth splits into a gleeful smile. ‘Come to watch the show from the royal box?’
‘Not exactly.’
Her smile fades.
I realized last night that I had a choice to make, one that would rip me in two as callously as the Earth Cleaver tore apart the realm.
It’s little wonder I feel emptier than the Rift.
For I made my choice, and I choose Hal. Because I’m selfish.
Because I can’t lose him. Because I love him.
Even if loving him means betraying my friends and, by extension, my people.
Even if it makes me the most despicable person who ever lived.
So be it. I won’t let him die.
Ingra’s eyes are narrowed, and her fingers tighten round the crossbow.