Chapter 20
For once I’d risen before the sun.
The dining room lay in silence as I stepped inside, the shutters still drawn. I crossed the space and opened them, letting the pale breath of dawn slip into the room. Beyond the stone, the last of the stars clung to the sky, reluctant to fade.
I lingered there, rubbing warmth back into my arms as cool air brushed my skin. The world was only just beginning to stir. Birds called softly from distant rooftops, and beneath it came the unmistakable rumble of waking sabers. Their growls rolled through the marble of the Ludaryn.
I’d left the courtyard the night before, each step burdened with uncertainty. Elion had all but ordered me to remain within these walls. But every instinct in me urged me to escape.
Thanor was right. I suspected he saw straight through me. I didn’t know what to make of it—only that it unsettled me more than I cared to admit.
Whether it was the cold or my thoughts, I suddenly felt exposed, my leathers too tight against my skin. I turned from the window, letting my fingers trail along the length of the wooden table until they reached Jorius’s usual seat. A small smile tugged at my lips.
As if summoned by the thought, he entered a moment later, his servant at his side, Livia following behind. Surprise flickered across his features as he saw me.
“You’re early,” he said as he yawned.
“Just nerves about tonight, I think,” I said.
He dropped into his chair, stretching as though the world were not poised to bite at any moment. “I can imagine.”
“Did you celebrate Carnis Noctyra where you were raised?” I asked, taking the seat beside him and pretending not to be too eager for his answer.
“I did,” he said easily. “But nothing like this.” His tone shifted. “Don’t pry into my past, Valentina. Let it rest.”
I propped my elbow on the table and rested my temple against my hand. “Sorry. I couldn’t help it.”
A brief pause settled between us. One of these days I hoped he’d trust me enough to tell me his secrets, just as I’d told him mine. But for now I’d wait.
“Have you seen your costume for tonight?” I lowered my voice as the other Bondwards began to filter in.
Livia placed a plate of bread and eggs before me, along with a cup of water.
I gave her a grateful smile. “I’m still trying to understand how I’m meant to walk around in mine…
it’s barely a drape of fabric.” I sighed.
“Or how to make it less revealing without offending whoever thought it appropriate.”
He snorted. “For once, I know exactly how you feel. I saw mine this morning. Calling it a costume feels generous.”
“Oh?”
“It’s more or less a loincloth,” he said dryly, “with delusions of grandeur.”
I searched his expression—but there was no trace of humor this time.
“Apparently, I’ve been assigned the god of the sea, storms…” He gestured vaguely toward himself. “And minimal fabric.”
A laugh escaped me, the image too absurd to ignore. He watched me over the rim of his cup, something pleased settling in his expression. The look lasted a fraction too long, and I shifted in my seat, brushing at the corners of my eyes.
“So… which goddess are you meant to be?” he asked.
“I’m not entirely sure,” I admitted. “The dress feels… contradictory. It’s covered in flowers, almost like it belongs to spring. But at the same time, it feels like something worn by a queen of the underworld.”
“That sounds fitting.” He leaned closer, mischief sparking in his eyes. “So tell me—are you to be stolen away as well? Dragged into the depths of hell to complete the story?”
“Honestly… the underworld might be an improvement.” I held his gaze. “Compared to Caelora… and the Ludaryn, I suspect it would be a kinder place to exist.”
He leaned back. “Tonight, you’ll be anonymous.
Everyone will be wearing masks, there’ll be more wine than anyone knows what to do with.
You might even manage to let your guard down for once.
Though I have some idea of what you’ll look like now.
I’ll keep an eye on you all the same, half the city will be inside.
” He sighed. “So I suppose I’ll drink a little less. On your behalf.”
“You really don’t have to. I know how much you like your wine. I want us all to enjoy tonight. We deserve it.”
Low voices and the scrape of plates filled the room as the others began to eat. I reached for a piece of bread—and dropped it as the doors slammed open.
A houseguard stepped inside, a small package tucked beneath his arm. My attention fixed on him before I could stop it. Bondwards rarely received deliveries.
He crossed the room and stopped before Livia.
“There is a delivery,” he said. “For Bondward Valentina.”
All heads turned toward me.
Livia accepted the small package and brought it over, her expression unreadable. I took it from her. The box was light and unfamiliar. I turned it slowly while trying to imagine who would send me anything at all. For a fleeting moment, I hoped it might be Elion.
I opened it. Inside lay a pair of delicate gold earrings, thin chains ending in pale pearls that caught the light as they shifted. Beautiful. Unexpected. A folded note rested beneath them.
I read it once, then again, my mouth going dry.
Wear them tonight. So I may recognize you. We will speak without notice.
The Praetor’s signet marked the wax below.
A hot surge of anger swept through me. I crumpled the note in my hand. I was still staring at the box when Lucina laughed from across the table.
“How interesting,” she said, turning toward me with open disdain. “I didn’t realize Bondwards were now receiving private gifts. You do move quickly, Valentina. One might almost admire the efficiency—using your body to climb where skill alone would never take you.”
The table went silent. Conversations faltered, then died altogether, the Bondwards suddenly far too interested in their cups and plates. A knot formed in my throat, but I lifted my chin all the same.
I let one corner of my mouth lift. “If sleeping your way upward were reliable, Lucina, the choice of partner would matter more than the effort.”
Her normally pale skin flushed red. She rose and crossed the space between us, her steps quick. Jorius tensed beside me. She leaned in, close enough that her breath brushed my ear, her voice dropping to a whisper meant for me alone.
“I recognize the box, I know who those earrings are from. Enjoy taunting me while you can. You’ll regret it soon enough.”
Then she stepped away, smirking as she left the dining room. I forced myself back to my meal, though my appetite had vanished, each bite taken more out of habit than hunger.
“They’re from the Praetor, aren’t they?” Jorius whispered beside me.
I nodded, unable to trust myself to speak. His hand closed over mine, his thumb brushing across my skin. “For what it’s worth… they’re beautiful. They’ll suit you very well. No matter who bought them.” He studied my face for a moment. “Do you want me to kill him for you?”
A breath of laughter slipped from me before I could stop it.
“Thought so,” he said, satisfied, rising to his feet. His hands came to rest on my shoulders with familiar ease, rubbing my arms slowly. “Come. The day has begun, whether we like it or not. You’ll fare better once you’ve had some air.”
I rose with him, grateful for the excuse to move, and we made our way toward the doors together. Livia joined us, falling into step at my side as we left.
The change became impossible to ignore. Gold dust had been thrown against the stone walls, splattered in streaks that looked almost like blood.
Gilded ivy hung from the columns, woven with garlands of grain and laurel leaves.
Masks lay scattered across tables and in alcoves.
Freshly sealed casks of wine lined the walls, and pots and platters crowded every spare surface.
Enough gold had been thrown at this festival to keep the iron-pierced from going hungry for a month.
Jorius let out a low whistle as we passed beneath an arch draped in flowering vines. “Well,” he said, clearly impressed, “it seems the Imperator is feeling generous this year.”
Livia huffed beside me. “Generous is one word for it. Today is the most dreadful day of the cycle for servants. We’ve been preparing since before dawn.” She shifted her weight as we walked. “I have blisters on my feet from running up and down these halls all night.”
“I thought you liked the festival?” I asked.
Her brows knit together. “I do. It’s just the preparation. Some of those casks weigh more than I do.”
“That isn’t very difficult.” Jorius teased.
Ignoring him, I added, “If you need time, I’ll find an excuse for you. I’m quite certain I can insist that I require you in my chamber later.”
“I’d like that.” Relief flickered across her face. Her fingers squeezed mine briefly before she let go, and we continued on, the gold and flowers closing in around us as the Ludaryn prepared to bare its teeth beneath all the splendor.
The courtyard opened before us in a wash of light and color, the doors parting as the guard stepped aside to let us through. Livia slowed, stopping short of the threshold.
“Good luck today. I’ll see you tonight.”
Before I could answer, the gate closed behind us with a solid finality, sealing her away on the other side.
A snarl was the only warning I got. Something massive slammed into me before I could react. I hit the sand hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs as Voryx lunged over me, jaws splitting wide above my face. Teeth gleamed inches from my throat. Hot breath washed over my skin.
I froze. Adrenaline surged through my veins.
Voryx’s jaws snapped shut—