Chapter Forty-Five
Emperor Raffan has a multitude of dresses sent to our room, with the lady’s maid assigned to both Lillienne and I insisting that there is a strict dress-code for this evening’s meal.
I have the girl fetch Calli also, feeling it a little unfair that she be forced to get ready alone, when we have no idea what kind of night we have ahead of us.
Laid out for us, is an array of silks and velvets and ribbon, all black, or a deep wine-red.
‘Woah,’ Lillienne exclaims, running her fingers over the beaded lace of a bodice. ‘Are we to attend a death service?’
‘Or a blood sacrifice?’ Calli adds, sinking deeper into the bronze tub at the centre of the room.
‘It is just a formal dinner, you mad-women,’ I roll my eyes at them, as a lady’s maid fashions my hair into a style she says would most impress Emperor Raffan.
‘Besides, I for one am not currently in the frame of mind to be dressed in delicate pinks or blues considering the subject we must discuss with him. I should think it’s quite fitting considering the circumstances in which we find ourselves here. ’
‘How very absurd it is to be waited on hand and foot,’ Calli brings up the pink bar of soap to her nose. ‘This is scented! I do not think I will ever have smelled so beautiful in all my days.’
Lillienne presses a black dress against her body. ‘And I have never seen someone delight so fervently in smelling like roses for a ritualistic sacrifice in all my time on this earth.’
Despite their rapport, there is an ease there in my chest, a loosening in the muscles where I have let go of tension.
The emperor has a fondness somewhere in him, for my mother and by direct association – me.
But I must also be mindful after bearing witness to the way he treated Cole – his own son – that he is capable of great cruelty.
‘Eira, what is going on between you and my brother?’ Calli cuts through my thoughts with the question.
‘Oh yes, Eira, do tell us about your encounter with the Umbrian king at sea. The thrashing of waves, the twisting of bedsheets—’
‘Lillienne!’
Calli’s dark eyes grow wide. ‘On second thought, I do not believe I should have asked.’
I shake my head. ‘Nothing untoward occurred between your brother and I, I can assure you. We just fell victim to a vulnerable moment, and the aftereffects of copious amounts of ale,’ I tell her, twirling a loose coil of hair that hangs at the nape of my neck, staring into the eyes of the girl in the mirror.
‘It was foolish – it is foolish of us to indulge in anything that might jeopardise this alliance we have,’ I say with my chin raised.
But that flushed pink colour creeps into my cheeks nonetheless, and I cannot help but trace my fingers on the skin of my neck, where his lips fused with me. The hair raises with the electricity of it, the memory charged with enough energy to replicate the feeling I had in the proximity of him.
It would be foolish to wish for his touch again, to disregard caution and fall back into him again. And yet, I would do it in an instant. Dive in again to the endless pleasure of him, of his presence clouding mine. To feel that storm inside me, around us, howl once more.
I have, after all, never claimed to be anything other than a fool.
Lillienne appears behind me, both hands on my shoulders as she leans down, looking at that blushing version of me in the glass. ‘Don’t deny yourself anything you would not deny me. You deserve all you would bestow upon those you love.’
A guard comes to escort us when the dining is to commence, leading us through the winding narrow passages that bring us down multiple levels.
The three of us, arms intertwined, radiating the magic that is three girls bound together by fates similar and distant at once.
Three girls who have been fortunate enough to find the joy of friendship in a world of uncertainty.
We laugh together. Giggling at the severity of the guard’s face as he turns to make sure we are following his direction.
As we approach the end of the spiralling pass, flickering light shines in and flooding into the air around us is—
‘Music?’ Lillienne shoots us a questioning glance, as though seeking confirmation that we too hear the violins as she does.
‘If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that is the haunting sound of…’
We step free from the passage. And there it is, all spinning bodies, chatter by candlelight and the delicious swell of the string quartet.
‘A ball,’ I say, finishing Lillienne’s sentence for her. There are at least two hundred guests in attendance, the room swimming with the buzz of chatter and clinking glass. Candles burn on every available surface, engulfing the room in a warm, flickering orange light.
‘No dinner for us then,’ Lillienne huffs, scanning the room.
Calli leans into her. ‘I do believe I spy a refreshment stall, that one has – is that cake?’ Calli pulls up her skirts and runs down the steps into the ball, unaware of the attention she gathers in doing so.
Perhaps it’s the redness of her eyes, or the fact that she currently appears to be the happiest person currently present.
The ball is lively, but its participants remain stone-faced and unsmiling.
‘This is truly dire,’ I sigh. ‘It would appear we have already fallen victim to one of the emperor’s tricks.’
Lillienne looks down at me. ‘You do not think he did this for you, do you? It did seem earlier that he was eager to celebrate your visit.’
‘That, or he is trying his best to avoid giving us a chance to interrogate him about my father. You saw how disturbed he was at the mention of him and his devilish magic,’ I say, doing my best impression of Emperor Raffan’s sour expression on the last few words.
Lillienne laughs. ‘If he thought so highly of your father, you can only imagine the true extent of his displeasure at Eliaz’s presence. Word is bound to have reached the emperor about the king’s compulsion of the granphids. He will not be best pleased.’
Tendrils of smoke dance around my face, down my neck, my arm.
‘She’s right. He detests everything I represent, Princess.
’ By body tensing, I search for him, wait to feel his skin graze mine, his breath on my neck.
But he is not there. ‘Spawn of the Anti-god, I believe I heard thrown about there. Although my personal favourite has to be, harbinger of death, sounds… sensual.’
‘Sounds like your ego inflating to great size, I would say.’
‘Sorry?’ Lillienne screws up her face at me. ‘Don’t tell me you’re about to descend into a spell of madness again? I thought you had quite recovered.’
Swaying on my feet, loosened and floating on my thoughts, I snap back into the room. ‘Oh, I am perfectly recovered, Lillienne. I was just thinking aloud about the Umbrian king and his arrogance.’
‘You certainly did not pay much mind to his arrogance when you were shoving your tongue down his—’
‘Lillienne,’ Diarmid appears by her side, most likely from the passage we had just entered from, and she manually purses her lips with a pinch of her gloved fingertips and regards him with a sheepish nod.
‘We find ourselves to be at a ball, how very unexpected,’ Diarmid says, arms behind his back, surveying the room with a shaking breath.
‘You might perhaps take this as an opportunity to further prove your bravery, Mr Erskine,’ I tell him.
He cocks his head at me, and I lift my elbow to Lillienne.
‘What – oh, yes. Quite right, Miss Lillienne, would you do me the considerable honour of joining me in a gentle waltz on the dancefloor? I understand if you do not—’
‘I accept,’ Lillienne blurts with almost enough force to send the poor man stumbling backward. He fumbles for her hand, before leading her down the steps, Lillienne turning to give me a rude gesture before they reach the ballroom floor.
Left at the peak of the crumbling red steps on my own, I pick at the thumb of my glove. The emperor’s throne lies empty still.
Calli picks at the desserts. Lillienne and Diarmid dance in one beautifully awkward embrace, spinning in slow motion until they are completely lost in the crowd. No sign of Cole. No real appearance of—
‘You make no move to find me, Princess. You continue to wound me so.’
In the blurring of bodies and the merging of reds and black and lace and glittering jewels – I seek him.
The bleeding white of his hair, like the stain of winter berries in powdered sugar. The molten, oozing honey of his burning, infernal eyes. The slight slant to his hungering smile. He does not show himself to me. If he did, I would uncover him in an instant.
‘If you were to present yourself to me, then perhaps you might save me the torture of searching for you amongst this hellscape.’
‘I am here,’ his voice is a frigid gust of wind to the exposed, burning skin of my neck. ‘I am everywhere you seek me, Princess.’
Phantom fingers slide down my arm, and my breath hitches in my chest, the anticipation of his touch crushing down on my lungs.
I tighten my fingers in my skirts, restraint balling there with the scratching fabric. The cutting of sharp thread into my palm, tempting blood. The parting of my lips, tempting gasping breaths.
‘How easy it must be,’ I breathe out. ‘To act so boldly when you have such power to hide behind.’
‘Who is to say I am hiding?’ he whispers into my ear, the heat of his words seeping into me. His lips graze my neck, as he moves around me.
And there he is. All darkness. Eyes narrowed, drinking me in like the last drop of wine. Temptation personified.
‘I see you wore the red,’ he raises his brows, running his tongue along his bottom lip. ‘It would seem, you do take orders after all.’
‘Do not flatter yourself. I simply do not look acceptable in black, and as far as I am aware – we are not yet in mourning.’
I make a show of trailing my eyes over his body. ‘It seems you do not venture from your usual colour palette.’
‘Well, perhaps there is always something to mourn.’ He raises a brow at me.
‘What a pleasant thought. Do not exert yourself with a good time here, King.’ I gather my skirts, and descend a few steps, until we are level. Shoulder to shoulder. Skin separated by a barrier of fabric. ‘After all, there is so much at stake here. It would be catastrophic to indulge once again.’
I glance at his mouth, watching as it opens in anticipation of his words before they come.
‘Oh, I believe I can stretch myself to a dance or two.’ His cheeks sharpen with his smirk. ‘That is, if the princess can keep up with such an accomplished dancer as myself.’
I glance up at the throne, still empty of the emperor. The clinking of clashing glasses begins to sound like the chiming of a clock. Dissonant as it rings in my ears.
I straighten my back. ‘We shouldn’t.’
He brings his lips to my ear once again. ‘Sounds like the princess is intimidated by her potential dance partner. Just admit your inability to dance, I will not ridicule you for it. A little light teasing, if you’re lucky.’
I inhale. Then let go. ‘Fine.’ I turn to face him. ‘But only to humble you with my excellent footwork.’
He holds out hand for me. ‘Please, Princess. Put me to shame.’
His skin is as warm as mine. My fingers slot perfectly into the grooves of his. It is as though we glide down those steps, how our feet match in rhythm. How synchronised our bodies are.
I prepare to shoulder my way through groups of loitering people, but as Eliaz leads the way, they take steps back with no resistance. Staring at us blankly as we make for the centre of the room. Where the dancing is.
Eliaz’s hand finds my waist, and mine his shoulder, and we assume the correct posture. It is still a waltz. We step up and down and left and right with the ebb and flow of the music. As we were taught to.
Eliaz’s face scrunches slightly. And mine in return.
‘What is it? I haven’t stepped on your foot – I would remember such a large obstacle in my dance space.’
‘It is just…’ He tightens his lips, holding back laughter.
‘Out with it then,’ I urge him, with great effort to hold back a giggle. His face breaks into a smile.
‘You dance like a statue. So stiff and regimented. I am yet to be humbled.’
‘I dance as I was taught. I do apologise if it is not up to your Umbrian standards.’
He chuckles lightly, with a shake of his head. ‘You are so far away from me my arm is aching. You certainly do not have an aversion to men, that much is certain. You, of course, made that very clear when we—’
‘I give you full permission to correct me. For I must, as princess, dance to the highest standard of course.’
‘As you wish.’
He pulls my waist into his, our bodies crashing together, so that my head is barely free of his chest.
I had danced with the duke, on the day of my initiation. It was pleasant, flirtatious, and about as exhilarating as it could be for a girl so inexperienced.
This feels worlds apart. She feels worlds apart from me now. The girl I was that day. So na?ve. So willing. So malleable.
As different to me in this moment, as the version of me I saw in the cave. How broken she was. How terrified she was. Of him. Of that version of him.
The music begins to sludge in my ears like syrup, muffled and thick, yet still flowing. The people around us mere smudges of skin and black and red. Nausea twists in my stomach, rising upwards, acidic. Acrid.
I look up at him. Breathing stuck, paused. There in his eyes, recognition of my anguish.
‘Tell me, Eliaz.’ I swallow down that hot sourness in my throat. ‘Is this real?’
He teeters on the verge of a laugh, then his features soften, when he realises what I am truly asking.
‘About as real as anything can be.’
And no matter how much I want it to. No matter how much value I place on his breathy words. They do nothing to console me.
How does anyone determine what is real, and what is conjured?
Because the lines between the two are blurring by the second.