Chapter 13
13
A roar of sound emanated from inside the castle’s grand ballroom that night—the sound of Saskia’s invited guests and would-be judges. Outside, where she stood in a private passageway that no guests could access, everything was safe and still except for the swirls of eerily cool vapors that swept out from underneath the closed ballroom doors, teasing and tickling at Saskia’s feet in their tight green snakeskin shoes.
They were trying to tug her forward, where everyone knew she had to go.
Her crown of bones sat heavy on her head. Her rings bit into her fingers as she clenched them into fists. She could already smell the too-familiar scents of pine and cinnamon in the air.
You’re the queen. You’re not a child anymore.
There’s nothing to be afraid of.
Beside her, Mirjana let out a weary sigh as she tried—and failed—to sidestep the curling vapors. “Are you really sure that all these theatrics were necessary? If we had simply held with tradition and our original plan to soothe your guests with comfortable familiarity…”
For once, Saskia was grateful for an instinctive snap of irritation. It broke her out of the haze of remembered panic. “The original plan wouldn’t have worked,” she said firmly, drawing her first unobstructed breath since she’d seen the waiting ballroom doors. “If we want our glorious neighbors not to roll over like pet dogs before the Archduke, the last thing any of them ought to be allowed to think is that I am either harmless or predictable. No, we need them to be even more frightened of me than they are greedy for Estarion’s gold.”
“As you say.” Mirjana’s voice was tight. “You are the queen, and I must follow your lead. Just know that I stand ready to help if needed.”
The pinched expression on her lovely face showed exactly what she was thinking… but Saskia lifted her chin, remembering a different face, earlier that day, and steady brown eyes that had never once lacked faith in her.
“Well, then.” With a twitch of one finger, she sent the heavy doors swinging open into a raucously loud, dark world of smoke and magic and swarming, untrustworthy visitors. “Let us begin this royal celebration.”
Felix had acted as either guest or host for well over a decade’s worth of glittering Winter Festivals in the Serafin Empire. Not a single one of them had prepared him for the cavernous world he stepped into along with a chattering stream of guests.
Open fires shot crackling, pine-scented flames high into the darkness from half a dozen giant pits placed around Queen Saskia’s vast ballroom. The crystal chandeliers remained unlit, but white vapors, glowing with impossible, internal light, curled high around the rafters and snaked through the air around the shadowy forms of the gathered guests—who alternately flinched or shrieked with delighted horror whenever the cool tendrils brushed against their skin or hair.
Lilting violins and wind instruments played a hauntingly compelling tune, but Felix could make out neither the musicians nor even the direction from which their music came—and a clawed goblin’s hand tugged at the sleeve of Felix’s cloak just as he was turning in place to search for them.
“All well, Sinistro?” Krakk, one of the goblin footmen, grinned up at Felix, his bulbous green eyes reflecting red from the light of the ribbon of vapor that hovered just above him. On his other hand, he balanced a massive tray of steaming clay mugs with seeming effortlessness. “A drink to warm your gut for Winter’s Turning?”
The scent of hot, cinnamon-laced wine wafted upwards, and Felix took a deep, appreciative breath. Even Oskar, half-asleep against Felix’s neck after his earlier feasting in the kitchens, lifted his head with a small purr of interest. Still…
“Not just now, thank you,” Felix said on a regretful exhalation. “Perhaps, if there’s any left when this is all over…”
Even in this darkness, he couldn’t risk removing his mask for an instant. He’d recognized too many of the other guests already.
There, surrounded by his own crowd of noble followers, stood the blond young King Hravic of Prsklava, downing a large cup of mulled wine. After drinking a similar amount of the sparkling champagne at the Winter’s Festival he’d attended in Estaviel City last year, Hravic had cornered Felix with a long and rambling, unstoppable rant about the injustice of his latest mistress’s com plaints. It was an experience Felix wouldn’t have cared to repeat even if he didn’t have to fear recognition.
Speaking of recognition… in a neighboring group, familiar, tinkling laughter made Felix take a quick, instinctive step in the opposite direction. That particular Kitvarian countess, then in her thirties and quite intoxicated, had spent one Winter’s Festival when Felix was seventeen making a determined and public attempt at seduction, with no interest in his polite but firm refusals. He’d managed to escape before matters could shift from deeply uncomfortable to desperate, but even now, the sound of Countess Markovic’s laughter made his jaw tighten.
The crowd before him was thickly shifting, but as Felix hesitated, waiting for an empty space to clear, Oskar rose to his feet on Felix’s shoulder and shook out his feathers with a grumpy mutter. Spreading his wings wide, he emitted an arrogant demand so loud, it cut off every conversation around them.
“ Cawww! ”
Felix winced at the ringing in his ears. Still, it worked: other guests first glanced their way out of curiosity, then shifted swiftly aside with widened eyes and respectful nods. Apparently, the sight of Felix’s tall, hooded, and masked figure, carrying a crow for a herald, was more than ominous enough to clear his path.
It was a very different reception than he’d experienced at any previous Winter Festivals… and as his initial trepidation faded away, he had to guiltily admit that he enjoyed it.
Slowly and deliberately, he paced forward, allowing the cloak and the mask to do their shadowy work for him without a single word being spoken. Oskar’s strong claws gripped his shoulder in support as the bird cocked his head back and forth, clicking loud warnings at everyone who dared step too close.
In truth, Felix had no particular path or direction in mind—but if he had to, he would be perfectly content to spend the next few hours simply circling the room in menacing silence. At least no smiling and nodding was required of him for once; no listening attentively to pompous strangers without ever letting the interest fade from his expression… or having the slightest power to effect any of the political favors they craved.
In this moment of liberation, Felix could almost believe himself to be an actual dark wizard, too powerful and dangerous ever to be constrained by social standards.
Ha! He made a rueful face behind his mask at the thought…
And then a familiar, prickling energy shot sudden sparks across his skin. It rolled forward in an irrepressible tidal wave from the far corner of the room.
Felix spun instinctively around to meet it.
The lilting music screamed its way upwards in an arpeggio of warning—and then vanished as double doors flung themselves open. Those doors hit the stone walls with resounding thuds that echoed through the crowded darkness. The whole ballroom fell abruptly silent, every gaze fixed on that corner entrance, where bright light from the outer passageway highlighted two women.
Both of them were strikingly attractive. Both of them, to Felix’s surprise, were familiar. But only one of them made the breath stop in Felix’s throat as he took an involuntary step forward, every sense exulting in that intoxicating energy.
Queen Saskia’s pitch-black hair was unbound beneath her towering crown of bones, and it spilled in thick, shining waves across the silk shoulders of her absinthe-green gown. Felix swallowed hard as his gaze traced the bodice, cut far deeper than any he’d seen on her before. Cradled within the shadows of that dangerously alluring V was a large, egg-shaped pendant that pulsated with shifting purple and black overtones.
Gemstones flashed on Queen Saskia’s fingers as she stepped forward and swept out her arms. Crows and bats rose up behind her like a storm cloud, answering her call. When she opened her crimson-painted lips, her voice sounded—magnified tenfold—from every angle of the ballroom:
“ Welcome to Winter’s Turning. ”
She dropped her hands… and the storm broke over her, black clouds shooting towards the two high chandeliers, making guests duck and gasp in their wake.
Every candle in those chandeliers lit with a triumphant blaze, flooding the gathered crowd with light as the Witch Queen of Kitvaria stalked into the ballroom that now unmistakably belonged to her.
Grinning fiercely behind his mask, Felix started forward to pay tribute to his queen.
Saskia breathed deeply and slowly through her nose as she stepped into the ballroom, fighting down the waves of tremors that wanted to accompany those too-familiar scents of pine and cinnamon. Guests were already surging towards her, their gazes avid and their hands outstretched.
Her mask of confidence felt so thin, it was about to shatter—but Mirjana stepped up to her side, lips stretched into a wide, warm smile, and smoothly took control. “Ah, Your Majesty King Franz. How glad we are to see you here! My beloved ruler and I were both ecstatic when we received your kind acceptance.”
Ha! Saskia thought. Smiling thinly, she inclined her chin in a minimal nod of greeting.
The grey-haired and medal-bedecked King of Visknya aimed a toothy grin directly at her bosom. “Finally! It’s a pleasure to meet my nearest neighbor at last. We’ve all been eagerly awaiting our invitations to visit ever since you took the throne.”
“Oh, really?” Saskia’s smile tightened. “I’d heard that you were busy entertaining visitors of your own from the Archduke of Estarion, on behalf of my uncle.”
“Ahem!” Clearing her throat hastily, Mirjana closed her hand around Saskia’s elbow and turned her towards the next hovering visitor. “And of course, Your Majesty must remember the Countess Markovic.”
“Oh, I certainly remember you. ” The Countess, a buxom woman in her early forties with a pink taffeta gown, curtsied deeply as she aimed a melting look up at Saskia through her long eyelashes. “You always looked so sweet whenever you appeared at court, Your Majesty. Of course, I never believed any of those terrible rumors! And I told all of my friends not to believe them either. We always hoped that you would become our queen one day, no matter what we had to pretend to survive at court until then.”
Straightening, she shifted closer in an overpowering cloud of jasmine perfume and reached out to put one soft, clinging hand on Saskia’s shoulder. “Now that you’re finally on the throne where you’ve always belonged, you must tell me everything about yourself—all the real stories of your childhood and where you so mysteriously disappeared off to all those years ago.”
“Must I? Really?” Saskia’s voice was dry enough to catch flame.
“Perhaps later,” Mirjana said firmly, and reached for her elbow once again.
Saskia took a quick step backwards, freeing herself from both of them. “Thank you, First Minister… and Countess. I believe I can stand upright without assistance.”
“Naturally.” Mirjana bared her teeth in a smile, her eyes glittering dangerously as the Countess gasped beside her in wordless, fluttering offense. “I am only here as your humble servant. Do tell me which introduction you would prefer to have next?”
Damn it, there was an order of precedence to this nonsense, too, wasn’t there? And if she got it wrong while Mirjana was watching and just waiting for her to make an embarrassing mistake that proved how inept she really was on her own…
A sparkling shower of rainbow lights erupted in the center of the ballroom. For the first time ever, Saskia’s body went limp with relief at the sight.
“Actually…” Her lips curved into a satisfied smile. “I don’t believe I’ll need any introductions for our latest honored arrivals.”
“Who in the world—?” Mirjana began.
Her words cut off with a snap as the sparkles faded. No one in this ballroom could mistake the new arrivals for anyone but exactly who they were: the other most notorious queens on the continent.
“Saskia, darling!” Lorelei caroled as she slid off the back of her riding gryphon.
In honor of the festival tonight, Bluebell was clad in a diamond-and-sapphire-encrusted riding saddle and harness. His golden eyes blazed above his fearsomely hooked beak as he pawed the ballroom floor with big, clawed lion’s paws. Still, even his magnificence paled into the background as Lorelei danced forward, her gown a shimmering, swirling, magical creation that tricked the eye into thinking it a different color with every instant. “We are so sorry to be late! Did you miss us horribly until now?”
“I don’t recall discussing either of those invitations!” Mirjana hissed into Saskia’s ear.
“Why would we need to discuss them?” Saskia whispered back, even more quietly. “They are my closest allies.”
“They are ?”
Ailana’s cool voice interrupted them, rolling like rime across the room. “How delightful it is to see so many good friends gathered together.” Still sitting atop her own gryphon, Frost, she slowly turned her gaze across the room… and an icy wind followed in its path. Royals and nobles alike shivered as the taste of snow suddenly filled the ballroom, but the Queen of Nornne’s expression remained perfectly calm. “Of course, all the free kingdoms of this continent must stand together against the Empire’s threat. I’m certain everyone here must understand that simple fact by now.”
“Oh, I’m sure no one would ever be stupid enough to make Saskia, Ailana, and me all furious through any petty betrayals,” Lorelei said gaily to the gathered, frozen crowd. “We may not have the overinflated muscles of the Emperor’s famous Golden Beacon, but we Queens of Villainy are a force to be reckoned with! And unlike that hopeless prig of a general, we simply have no limits.” She winked lavishly… and for one overwhelming moment, the scent of rotting, putrid vegetation filled the room. Even Saskia had to fight the urge to gag.
A second later, the overpowering stench was gone, and Lorelei clapped her hands together as warmth returned once more to the air. “But we’re not here for boring political conversations, are we? We’re here to celebrate Winter’s Turning! Saskia, darling, when will the official ritual finally begin, so that we can all move on to feasting and dancing?”
Mirjana stepped forward, almost visibly drawing a mantle of authority around her. This time, though, Saskia didn’t need anyone to speak on her behalf. “The ritual will begin soon,” she told Lorelei and the listening crowd. “I need only greet my guests before we all begin. Would you and Ailana care to join me?”
As Lorelei beamed and Ailana nodded in gracious assent, goblin footmen hurried across the room to take the gryphons’ harnesses and lead them away to a quiet corner of the castle. No doubt the beasts would cause havoc there with their constant dueling… but this time, Saskia was too glad for their riders’ presence to begrudge a few broken plates or furnishings.
Lorelei and Ailana might be even more dangerous than their steeds—and every bit as focused on their own, more subtle jostling for dominance—but tonight, she wouldn’t begrudge them any of their scheming, either. With her fellow queens by her side, the idea of fearing petty judgements from anyone else in this ballroom suddenly felt beyond absurd.
“Your Majesty.” Mirjana’s whisper in her ear tightened her spine with new tension. “If I might have a private word with you, outside the ballroom?”
Oh, Saskia knew exactly how that private word would go. “I couldn’t possibly leave my honored guests,” she said with as much regretful sincerity as she could muster. “However…” Her gaze swept the wide-eyed group around her—and landed on the one hooded and faceless figure whom she had come to wholeheartedly trust.
“Sinistro.” She let out the word on a sigh of relief. “Mirjana, may I present my new librarian? Fabian will escort you on your own social rounds tonight, while I look forward to our conversation later. You’ll still stand by my side for the ritual itself?”
Mirjana’s jaw tightened in a way that heralded a scathing and soul-withering lecture to come… but under the scrutiny of so many watchful eyes, she lowered her head in a respectful nod. “Of course.” She left with a sweep of skirts to take the cloaked arm that Fabian held out to her with perfect, courtly grace…
And when Saskia turned back to her guests, this time, she felt no fear.