Chapter 6
Revna
“You’ve ruined your outfit in the most predictable way.”
I turned to see Freja and Astrid closing their respective bedroom doors and striding down the hall toward me.
I couldn’t muster a smile—especially not now, when I knew Freja had been keeping her opinions about my training with the Hellbringer hidden—but I raised an eyebrow in question.
My best friend nodded to the sword and sheath belted at my waist. She signed, “Do you really think a ball is the right place for weaponry?”
I managed to huff a laugh as I replied, “We’re still at war with the very people hosting this event. I’d say this is the best place to be armed.”
Astrid didn’t appear amused. “Revna is right,” she said. “We’ve been ignored all day; the queen could be preparing to make a carefully coordinated attack tonight.”
Despite promising that negotiations would begin early this morning, we had not been summoned to meet with the queen.
When I’d finally demanded one of the guards standing at the end of the hallway explain what was happening, he’d simply said the queen had decided to postpone negotiations until after the ball, in light of new information she’d received.
The cold chill that ran down my spine hadn’t warmed since then. I’d tried to distract myself by training, but every time I managed to slip into the ease of my sparring forms, my conversation with S?ren from the night before returned to me.
Frode was dead. For nothing.
Now the guards had the decency to escort us to the ballroom. Freja walked on Astrid’s other side, the teleporter standing between us. A strategic decision, so my bodyguard was within reach? Or a slight, after the admissions of last night? There was no way to know.
“Where’s Volkan?” I signed as we arrived in front of a set of grand doors, the gold etching on them glinting in the lamplight.
“He left early,” Astrid replied. “Said he wanted to get a feel for things before you arrived.”
“And Arne?”
She shrugged. “No idea. He was gone when I knocked on his door to see if he wanted to walk with us.”
Music drifted around us, and I steeled myself.
It felt the same as when I’d stood on a hillside and watched Bhorglid’s army descend into the arms of the Kryllian soldiers waiting there.
This was likely my last chance to convince the queen to reconsider signing the treaty.
If tonight went poorly, war would reign once more.
And this time? Kryllian would win.
I wasn’t optimistic.
The doormen moved to announce us, but Freja held up a hand to stop them. “Is your Lurae under control?”
My mind ran rampant with nothing but a single question.
She doesn’t trust you not to ruin everything the moment you start speaking.
Just like dinner yesterday, when you admitted to the civil unrest because you didn’t think it through.
And if she distrusts you now, imagine how much she’ll hate you when she learns the truth about Halvar.
Every muscle in my body went taut as I took a breath to shove my Lurae down, down, down, ignoring its siren song as golden threads began to spin to life around me. I gritted my teeth and signed a blatant lie. “Yes.”
My hands were restless. I straightened my dress, a dark red piece that draped along one shoulder, with golden embroidery over the bodice, and adjusted my father’s crown.
I’d insisted on wearing it tonight despite it not fitting—it was the one I’d worn to my coronation, and whether or not the alliance went through, I was a queen.
Freja’s shoulders relaxed. “Good. Maybe this isn’t as hopeless as I thought, then.”
I had barely enough time to prickle with defensiveness at Freja’s response before she gestured for the doormen to let us into the ballroom.
The music softened, and we looked out into a wide space as elegantly decorated as the rest of the palace.
It was packed with dancers dressed in finery, couples spinning round and round in dizzying loops.
A group of musicians played in one corner.
On the opposite side of the room from us was a dais where the queen sat on a throne made of twisted gold.
The doorman announced Freja and Astrid, and the two linked arms before entering. I swallowed down the knot of unidentifiable emotion at the sight.
I was next. The doorman raised his voice once more and called, “Revna of Bhorglid, the Bloodsinger Queen.”
All eyes turned to me, like I’d known they would. It surprised me when the partygoers slowed, descending into bows and curtsies to offer me the respect I’d earned. As I stepped through the crowd, I took a deep breath to slow my heartbeat.
This was already going better than expected. None of us had been murdered yet.
Are they looking at the crown? my thoughts taunted as I passed dozens of beautiful nobles. Or are they staring at your scars?
I willed my shoulders to relax as the hum of a song only I could hear started up once more. Thinking about the scars made the skin on my face feel taut.
I reminded myself of the truth: I’d chosen to keep my scars, chosen to give my people a visual reminder of my right to the throne. Perhaps they were ugly. Perhaps they marred whatever sliver of natural beauty I’d possessed before. But now was not the time to grow weary beneath their gazes.
“Rise,” I commanded. The crowd obliged, the musicians began strumming once more, and because today was determined to be as terrible as it possibly could be, my eyes locked directly with S?ren’s.
For the span of a heartbeat, his stare bored into me. I managed to pull my own gaze away. Now knowing exactly what had happened the day my brother died, I wouldn’t—couldn’t look at him. Just because I recognized his features didn’t mean I knew the man underneath the mask.
A fact he’d proven when he admitted to murdering Frode in an attempt to save his own sister.
Why was he unmasked for this event? I had expected the queen to want him at her side constantly, as a show of power.
I pursed my lips as we began to weave through the throng. This was no show of good faith. If S?ren was here as himself and not the Hellbringer, there was a purpose to it—a firm reason.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up, prickles of awareness from his careful observation of me. Besides the scars, I knew I looked stunning.
I hoped he hated it.
I wanted to bare my teeth and snap at him. How dare he? Staring at me in public, like I was an object and not a public figure worthy of his respect—no, his fear.
Freja sidled up next to me, her hushed whisper bringing me back to myself. “Six guards along the west wall and eight along the east. Two next to the dais, and then…” She frowned. “Who is that speaking to the queen?”
Yesterday, I would have told her exactly who was speaking to the queen, a soft smile on his face—one I knew was fake. S?ren didn’t smile like that. But today, with the heavy knowledge that Freja disapproved of my alliance with the Hellbringer and thought I shouldn’t have fallen for him…
“I don’t know,” I said. The words felt too true, and they sank like a stone in my gut.
When I turned to discreetly observe the guards Freja had mentioned, I noticed Astrid. Walking casually behind us, she had drawn a dagger from one sheath and was steadily flipping it end over end to catch it in her palm while she stared directly at anyone who appeared to be eavesdropping.
The song ended, and as another began, I moved forward again. “Let’s go make our pleasantries.”
The dais was only a few steps off the ground, and in moments I stood face-to-face with the queen.
I wasn’t the only one who had come to the ball armed.
Anja had her decadent sword balanced across her lap, hands cradled protectively over it.
I wondered why it mattered to her so much that she’d bring it to an event like this; she had plenty of guards willing to fight and die for her.
“Your Highness,” she said. “Glad you could join us.”
“As am I,” I replied, using all my strength to keep my voice steady. “The event is beautiful—the perfect way to celebrate peace between two once-warring nations.”
An empty throne sat next to hers, and I sank into it, crossing my legs and leaning back.
Volkan’s admonishments from earlier this afternoon still rang in my mind.
Be confident, act like the alliance is a sure thing.
We may be in a foreign palace, but you are ranked just as highly as she is—pretend you own the place.
S?ren faced away from me. A good thing, considering the queen knew exactly what this moment meant.
I was relieved to have stumbled upon him the night before.
Otherwise, the heaviness of seeing him unmasked might have shattered me.
Freja and Astrid remained at my side, Astrid now polishing her blade with the edge of one sleeve.
The queen hummed. “Peace has been proposed, but not finalized.”
“I’ll grant you that,” I said with a nod. I should have left it there, but hadn’t Volkan urged me to be confident? The rest of my thoughts slid into words with no resistance: “Hard to finalize a treaty when the opposing country’s leader declines to negotiate with you, though.”
S?ren was utterly still, waiting.
But the queen did not rise to the bait. “It became clear after our dinner that there is more at play than originally thought. I’m grateful for your patience, but rest assured—by the end of the night we will have made a decision.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Astrid’s knuckles go white where they clutched the hilt of her blade. Tension radiated from Freja.
Before I had the chance to reply, the queen continued. “Yesterday, I mentioned one of our most prestigious scholars was interested in meeting you, to learn more about your Lurae and its unprecedented manifestation. I’ve invited him here tonight to meet you.”