Chapter Nineteen
THEA
T he next night, on the evening of the eclipse, Thea readied herself for battle. In the privacy of her chambers, she donned a rose-gold gown like armour, and strapped her dagger and throwing stars to her legs beneath her full skirts.
The others had ensured that the rest of her weapons, and Wilder’s, were stashed just outside the ballroom, and her pack was hidden away in Cal’s quarters.
Everything was in place, almost. Steadying her hand, she swept a line of dark kohl across each of her eyelids as Wren had once taught her, and painted her lips a deep blood red.
She braided her hair in her usual warrior’s style, only to pin it to the crown of her head, exposing the line of her neck.
When she was finished, she studied herself in the full-length mirror, hardly recognising the woman before her.
Good , she thought, raising her mask to her face and tying it at the back of her head.
The woman she had been this past year would be no good to her tonight.
She had to rid herself of that person, had to shed her like a second skin.
Wilder needed her, and she would see him free of the shackles she’d forced him into.
With a final glance at her glittering appearance and drake-inspired mask, Thea left her rooms and sought Princess Jasira.
In her royal suite, the Princess of Harenth was surrounded by fussing attendants, but when she saw Thea, her face broke into a wide smile.
‘Thea, you’re here!’
‘I wouldn’t miss it, Your – Jasi.’
The princess shooed away her assistants and gestured to her gown. ‘What do you think?’ She was resplendent in deep-sea blue, jewels glistening all over.
‘Beautiful,’ Thea told her.
‘As are you, my friend.’
Thea offered a grateful smile and her arm. ‘Shall we?’
Jasira took it and started towards the door. ‘Care to make a wager on how many men ask us to dance tonight?’
Thea forced a laugh. Dancing was the last thing on her mind. ‘I imagine you have a better idea of these things than I do. It would be a foolish bet on my part.’
‘Nonsense.’
The princess’ royal guard escorted the two women through the corridors of the floating dome, everything bathed in golden torchlight and garlands of native Aveum flowers.
Thea kept her chin up and forced one foot in front of the other, holding the thoughts of Wilder in that ice cell at bay.
He was strong. He was the strongest person she knew. Now, she had to be strong for him.
As the entrance to the grand ballroom came into view, she threw a final plea up to the Furies themselves that all would not be in vain before she squared her shoulders and the double doors opened inward.
She stifled the gasp on her lips.
In the heart of the floating dome, surrounded by the snow-capped peaks and evergreen forests beyond the windows, was a ballroom unlike anything she had ever seen.
It was as though it had been plucked from a dream, bathed in moonlight, the vaulted ceilings adorned with glimmering chandeliers made from icicles.
Everything about it was a testament to the genius of the kingdom: the wintry glow, the enchanted warmth, the illusion of falling snow.
Every surface sparkled and shimmered, fashioned almost entirely out of crystal and glass, light refracting and dancing across the space in a myriad of colours.
Garlands of blooms wrapped around white stone pillars while thick velvet curtains framed every entrance.
Thea and the princess watched from their private vantage point as at the other entrances, noblemen and warriors were stripped of their weapons.
There were to be no blades of any kind amid the celebrations, no temptation for violence and darkness.
Thea had been warned of this beforehand.
But for the first time in her life, dresses and cosmetics worked in her favour.
She and the princess breezed past the palace guards and through the royal entrance without being checked.
‘Queen Reyna has outdone herself,’ Jasira declared as they stepped inside.
‘Princess Jasira of Harenth,’ a herald announced. ‘And her honoured guest, Guardian Althea Zoltaire of Thezmarr.’
Thea tensed under the scrutiny that was immediately upon them, not failing to notice how the public acknowledgement of her title caused no flutter of pride in her chest. Once, she had dreamt of such a thing, and now, she felt nothing.
‘Come, Thea.’ Jasira pulled at her arm. ‘Let’s do a lap of the vendors.’
Thea startled. Lining the walls of the ballroom were countless stalls decorated with frost-kissed wreaths and snowflake ornaments. It was as though Queen Reyna had brought the very best of the midrealms’ markets indoors, offering the most premium wares in a vibrant tapestry within her halls.
‘It it normal to have merchants like this at a ball?’ Thea asked.
‘In Aveum it is. Queen Reyna usually invites the most exceptional vendors from all over the midrealms. She prides herself on offering her guests the best of everything – plus, it’s good for the kingdom.
There are more than usual tonight, though.
I think it’s because people believe the Moonfire Eclipse will bless their wares and bring good fortune. ’
Thea’s brows knitted together. ‘There seems to be a lot riding on this eclipse…’
With a gentle touch to her arm, Jasira chided her quietly, ‘People find hope where they can.’
Thea’s cheeks burned, but Jasira didn’t let the point linger.
Instead, she led them down the first row, where each stall offered a treasure trove of delights.
Roasted chestnuts, miniature cakes with thick icing, spiced cider and toffee apples, exotic winter flowers preserved in glass domes, vibrant frosted jewels…
Everything was artisan-made and beautifully presented, and the vendors themselves were draped in luxurious winter garments for the occasion, each trying to capture the princess’ attention.
The fanfare and beauty felt rotten to Thea. For beneath these opulent rooms was an ice cell full of children, and another containing the most noble of Thezmarr’s Warswords. The riches, the smiles, the decadence – it was all a farce, and Thea would see it ended.
Jasira’s arm tightened around hers and Thea followed her gaze across the room. What little food she’d eaten curdled in her gut as she saw who the princess was making eyes at.
‘He’s quite handsome, isn’t he?’ Jasira’s cheeks flushed as Sebastos Barlowe, apprentice to Vernich Warner, offered her a charming smile.
So, he recovered from Wilder’s blows after all… Pity. Though Thea noted with no small sense of satisfaction that the once-straight line of Seb’s nose was now permanently crooked, thanks to the punch she’d landed before the battle of Notos.
Thea struggled to keep her voice even. ‘Jasira, I can safely say that he’s a festering fucking prick of a —’
She cut herself off, face flaming at the coarse language that had flown from her mouth in the presence of —
‘I’m so sorry, Your Highness, I wasn’t…’
But Jasira was grinning from ear to ear. ‘Is he really? ’
Thea shuddered, recalling the moments where Seb’s existence had threatened her own and that of her friends, where his cruelty and malice had gone beyond reason. She thought of how he’d mistreated Malik and old embers of rage instantly flared to life anew.
‘If you catapulted him beyond the Veil, he still wouldn’t be far enough away.’
Jasira tilted her head. ‘You two… You have a history?’
Thea tore her eyes away from the bastard and realised what the princess was asking. ‘Furies, no, not like that. I wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole unless it was to beat him senseless with it.’ The words flew out of Thea’s mouth before she could stop them. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled.
Thankfully, the princess simply laughed. ‘Don’t be. It’s good to know not to trust a pretty face.’
Thea bit back another nasty remark about Seb being anything but pretty. He was as much a monster as the wraiths that cursed the midrealms, in her eyes. She could feel his gaze on them still, boring holes in them, likely already scheming about how he could turn the princess against her.
But Jasira’s attention on him had been fleeting. She seemed to have a particular stall in mind, and she bypassed several eager tradesfolk and led Thea to the farthest corner of the ballroom.
‘Ah, I was hoping he’d be here!’ she said, tugging Thea towards her intended stall.
Thea’s brow furrowed. She recognised that man.
‘Marise!’ Princess Jasira waved.
It was the wine merchant from Harenth to whom Wilder had once introduced Thea.
Marise, who was surrounded by a small crowd of people with several bottles of wine open in front of him, beamed at the princess. ‘Your Highness! What a sight for sore eyes you are. Everyone, move! You sorry lot of drunks. Make way for the princess.’
Jasira laughed as the crowd parted and she and Thea approached the stall.
Marise’s eyes widened at the sight of Thea. ‘And another honoured patron! What a delight to see you, Guardian Zoltaire.’
Thea gave him a stiff nod. It was all she could do with thoughts of Wilder flooding her mind. She just had to get through the first hour of the ball, then she’d be back in her armour, seeing him freed.
‘At long last you have come for a tasting!’ Marise continued, then lowered his voice. ‘I expected you some time ago, with a certain Warsword we do not speak of…’
‘I’ve been on the road,’ Thea murmured, with an awkward glance at the princess, who seemed not to hear.
‘But of course.’ He bowed his head before clapping his hands together enthusiastically. ‘Today we will taste three of my best wines.’