Chapter 4
Chapter four
Harkin
The palace was alight with a thousand chandeliers. Softly swaying crystals threw rainbows of delicate light through the ballroom, bouncing off the brightly polished floor and catching on fine jewels worn around the necks of the guests.
The merriment was well underway. Lords and ladies danced and drank and gorged themselves on a meal fit for kings. Guards and servants hovered, ever attentive.
A sickly sweet scent filled the air, sticky with the heat of sweating bodies and spilled liquor.
The Acsillan Palace was alive with Rázuri mágik—with the Goddesses mágik.
I felt it in the comfortable blanket of warmth which wrapped around us, protecting us from the crisp autumn night. I saw it in the flowers that bloomed despite the season and in the waterfall that spilled noiselessly down one wall, its spray never reaching the guests.
Symbols of the Three Goddesses decorated the hall in glittering gold and sparkling silver. Offerings lay bare on the table, and prayers swelled on the lips of the revelers.
A dance ensued as the orchestra swelled, and the room became a sea of silks and tulle, its current swaying like a ceaseless torrent.
The princess was led into the fray by a young lord in a velvet coat. Her dress was pulled in by the symphonic tide, silver skirt glittering luminously against the soft pastels and deep jewel tones of the other gowns.
She was sunlight sapped of its warmth.
I watched them for a beat. I could not remember the last time I had danced, just for the fun of it. Without it being part of some scheme or expectation. I felt a sudden sense of nostalgia for the days when I danced in the kitchen with my sister, when I twirled my mother before the firelight.
But this was not the time to consider the loss my choices had dealt.
I was but a vine upon the wall, keeping a close eye out for the royals. My fine but unremarkable clothing, tidy dark hair, and unbothered expression allowed me to blend in on the outskirts of the festivities.
My mirthless brown eyes scanned the room, shadowed in the low light.
I lifted a drink from a passing tray as I maneuvered through the space.
My fingers caught the servant by the wrist, pressing hard against the bounds of my mágik as I slipped past her defenses with ease.
When the numbness—the willingness—had settled over her emotions, I asked, “Where is Prince Claudian?”
The servant stared on, blank eyed, and I eased up ever so slightly.
“Claudian,” I repeated.
“Prince Claudian has just arrived,” she replied in a smooth monotone, and I knew she would not remember this conversation. My hold on her mind had burrowed deep.
I released her with a short nod.
The prince strode across the ballroom with resonant steps, impossibly audible in the deafening keen of the ballroom. He drew the princess into another spinning, dipping, flawless waltz.
I sidled closer, focus singular.
A nobleman stumbled into me, reeking of liquor and splashing the remainder of his goblet down my black coat.
At the growing look of upset on the nobleman’s face, I smoothly slipped on one of my many masks.
With a twitch of my finger, I flexed my mágik once more, and a wave of calm rolled over the man before me.
“Apologies, My Lord. That was my fault entirely. Please accept this fresh drink as penance for my mistake.”
He huffed, reaching for the proffered glass that I held between us. He left without further hassle, and I turned my gaze back to the royals, annoyed at the interruption.
Claudian spun the princess dramatically, letting go of her outstretched hand with a flourish. She stumbled, heel catching in the smallest groove in the marble. The princess went sprawling across the ballroom floor, and the entire party fell silent.
Tears welled in her eyes, evident even from my vantage point.
Prince Claudian placed a heavy hand upon his niece's shoulder, towering over her where he stood.
I noted how he did not bend his knee. He refused to make himself small, even to comfort a loved one.
I bit back the resentment that washed over me—a bitter, syrupy liqueur.
Claudian drew the princess to her feet, and they bowed to their people—a conciliatory gesture. His eyes caught mine, and he cocked his head just so.
It was time.
I advanced unnoticed through the crowd and out of the ballroom, to the study where I often met with the prince. I poured a drink and sat by the fireplace, pretending to nurse my glass until the clock chimed and the door gusted open, sounds overlapping.
Claudian strolled through, unconcerned at his tardiness.
“My Prince,” I rose and gave a short bow, waiting for Prince Claudian to be seated before resuming the position myself. “You wished to meet with me last hour.”
He scoffed, expression ghastly in the shadowed firelight. “As if you have anywhere else to be? I own you. You will wait until I am ready and thank me afterwards.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Hmm.” Claudian plucked the drink from my hand and drank from it deeply. “I take it you completed your task this evening?”
“Yes, sir. You will be free to pursue the trade agreement that was discussed without fear of conflict.” I pressed my fingers into my thighs, an attempt to ground myself as the vision of Lord Laski’s corpse danced before my eyes.
“Excellent.” Claudian kicked back the rest of the brown liquor. “I have another mission for you, Aranti. I need you to travel to Ordelés to collect a woman named Seren Corso.”
“You wish for me to travel to Ordelés?” I asked, unable to keep the shock from my voice. “What could you possibly want with a human woman?”
Claudian’s eyes narrowed, a predatory gleam beneath. “It is not your place to question your betters, Aranti.”
“Apologies, Your Highness. I am only surprised. You have never sent me beyond the Acsillan border.” I made myself smaller, slouching in my seat, and watched as he swelled with the power of it. The sweet addiction of control.
“The girl is Rázuri, although her abilities are unknown. I had believed her to be long dead, but an associate of mine recently informed me that the girl lives. You will fetch her for me.” Prince Claudian smiled, sharp and disjointed. “There is no one else I trust to handle something so delicate.”
I fought not to react, to feel nothing of the threat beneath his words. “And what would you have me do with this woman once I have collected her, sir?”
The prince paused to refill the liquor glass clutched tightly in his fist. The pale skin around his eyes crinkled in distaste.
“I would have you kill her, once and for all.” He laughed dryly.
“Unfortunately, she is necessary for what comes next. Take her to my hunting cottage in the Váracis Erva—my spymaster knows the one. Determine what mágik she wields and train her. I imagine she is unpracticed, being raised by human parents in an unforgiving land… When you deem her fit, bring her to me.” Claudian stood, adjusting his fine velvet doublet as he moved around the desk.
“It is imperative that she is delivered to me before the solstice. I do not think it necessary to remind you what will happen should you fail.”
The door swung shut behind him, a resonating crack echoing off the solid wood frame. I did not flinch; I was used to such theatrics from the prince. I allowed myself to linger a few moments longer, my mind, as always, on the family I would do anything to protect.