31 Imogen
Imogen
I could sense the water before I saw it.
The carriage ride down the mountain had been smooth, but even the barest jostle had made my tender head throb.
Now that we were by the sea, not a trace of that strange pain lingered.
I stared out the carriage window. The streets of Obelia’s main city were narrow, and its ramshackle buildings had been built tall and snug, like a row of overlarge books jammed into a shelf.
The day was clear, but the buildings towered high enough to cast an icy shadow over us.
Aleka watched me from the other side of the carriage. It was only the two of us. Lachlan had taken Agatha back to their chamber to soothe her nerves and rest before they made their way down to the feast, as the run-in with the empress had deeply upset her.
“Is everything all right, Your Majesty?” She’d donned the fur blanket once more and hogged the foot warmer by throwing the hem of her robe over the top of it. “It seems there’s something… amiss.”
I gave a wry laugh, my gaze fixed on the window. “Amiss. What a perfect word for it.”
“I expect you’re not particularly eager to celebrate the king’s marriage.” She made a thoughtful sound. “If that is what we’re calling it. I don’t see a particularly happy future for them. But such is the lot of a ruler, I suppose.”
I appreciated Aleka’s raw view of things. In a way, it reminded me of Agatha. Always honest, generous with her measured opinions and wisdom, and never ruled by her emotions. I envied her ability to seemingly see everything as it truly was.
Hearing her acknowledgment of Theodore’s happiness was a surprise. “I’ve come to believe it would be foolish for any ruler to expect such a thing.” Happiness seemed too great a request.
We listened to the clack and rattle of the carriage.
“I imagine you care quite a lot about happiness,” she mused, almost to herself.
“But I hope that tonight you will keep your wits about you, Your Majesty. Despite your… time together last night, you have no real claim on the king. And, for everyone’s safety, you’ll do well to remember it. ”
Heat rose instantly to my cheeks as I finally met her eye. “I suppose I’ve done little to dissuade you from thinking I am entirely reckless and self-serving.”
She lifted a shoulder in an easy shrug. “It’s in your nature. Let me be clear—such qualities are not wholly negative. More often than not, I’d venture that they are some of your greatest strengths.”
Her tone did not convey a compliment, but rather a guarded sort of wariness. The cold air in the carriage turned sharp.
She’d warned me away from making a scene over Theo and Halla, but that was not the most reckless thing I could do tonight. Scouring the empress’s palace for Eusia was. And regardless of the marshal’s very sound counsel, that was precisely what I planned to do.
The long rows of stacked buildings ended, and the vista shifted to a sloping, craggy field of snow.
At the far end, on a very thin bit of land, sat the empress’s black stone palace.
I shifted in my seat to better see the brutal-looking building, with the dark, silver-trimmed sea glittering just beyond.
I pulled in a gulp of briny air and held it.
My stomach swelled with what felt like a rush of hot blood, power eagerly returning from where it had been previously drained.
I felt more certain than I ever had that the empress would keep Eusia by the sea.
The mountains were deadening, and Eusia coveted her power far too much to let herself be depleted of it.
She was a Mage Seer, yes, but she was a Siren first. The sea would always call to her.
The carriage rattled toward the palace’s main gate and my body steadied with determined certainty. I would find Eusia. I slid my fingers over the front line of my bodice, feeling for the hard line of my dagger.
Palace Mustkiva, which the footman had told me meant Black Keep in Obelian, was just that.
Its walls were high and thick, with two massive portcullises that rose, loud and lazily, to permit us to the main drive.
Its stones were badly worn, the sharp corners rounded and pocked from the constant onslaught of the sea’s winds.
It wasn’t until we were escorted through the massive entryway, guards in tow, that I understood the shocking immensity of the continent’s wealth.
Had I been told that the gold and jewels and ivory detailing in the entry were the extent of it, I still would have been stunned, but as we moved through the wide halls, the opulence only grew.
I glanced at Aleka, who walked at my side. “Makes Genevreer Palace look ramshackle,” I said below my breath.
Her face remained impassive, but her dark eyes flitted over the glittering detail of the palace. “A sign of true might.”
Two servants led us into a cavernous reception hall, bathed in dark blue, silver, and gold. The soaring ceiling was inlaid with gems that captured a midnight sky, and guests milled and conversed with crystal goblets of dark wine in hand.
True might.
Those words rolled through my mind with pointed corners.
I supposed that Aleka was right: in Obelia, might did beget grotesque wealth.
And that made those without weak. It was just what Nemea had done—build a world where his power was secured by making a monster of those who threatened it. Justifying their destruction.
The monster is always slain, indeed.
Even Varya was guilty of ridiculous displays of royal wealth, but this was something else altogether.
This was gluttony and greed. Halla could have married anyone she chose with this sort of wealth, but the empress had sought out a king who had something that their army and gold and saint could never have given her.
Gods’ power.
Aleka studied a painting on the wall of some snow-covered hamlet, as horror shot through me.
The notion that Theodore might be in terrible danger bumped down my spine like a cold finger.
He was here, somewhere, and I wouldn’t be able to pull in a full breath until I laid eyes on him.
Until I knew that he was whole and well.
More guests milled through open doors that led to other equally opulent rooms on either side of the hall.
From somewhere beyond, there came the plucking and hum of musicians tuning their instruments.
I had planned a surreptitious getaway, sneaking into a crowd when the music and chatter were at their peak, but I couldn’t bring myself to stand still a moment longer.
I set my wineglass on the nearest marble table, lifted the hem of my skirt, and made for the nearest door, where a new swell of voices rose above the clatter and winding music.
Aleka called after me, her voice even but tight. “Your Majesty.”
But I didn’t yield to her call. I made my way into the corridor and tucked against the wall as I searched the crowd of finely dressed guests who were descending from an upper floor.
I stopped dead in my tracks when I spotted Halla.
She was impossible to miss. Her glittering white skirt was so full that it took up the entire width of the staircase, but it was the look of absolute bliss on her face that held my attention.
It was a look of repletion, a look that only a woman who had finally been given everything she’d ever wanted would wear.
Fear ripped through me. What if she had gotten everything—Theodore’s blood included.
Then I saw him. He walked at the very back of the group, trailed by his armored guards.
His uncrowned head was hung, and he looked like someone had reached through his ribs and plucked his heart directly from his chest. As the group dispersed, Halla made her way into the hall I’d just left, smiling, surrounded by a group of women who laughed and doted upon her.
When I looked back toward Theodore, he’d stopped on the stairs with his hand wrapped tightly around the banister and his wretched gaze on me.
Even miserable, he was perfectly striking in his dark blue suit. He stood straight and proud, and as he took me in, that troubled crease in his brow began to fade. I didn’t imagine the light that slowly filled his eyes.
“Gold,” he said, softly stricken, taking in the dress I wore.
On Della, Agatha had found a gown in the deepest, richest gold-hued silk.
The back was deeply cut, low enough for my wings.
It was the skirt, however, that I loved the most. The silk flowed like water, but it had a delicate overlapping pattern upon it that reminded me of feathers. Or, perhaps, scales.
“I thought you’d like it.”
He descended the rest of the way down the stairs and reached for my hand.
“You shouldn’t—”
“It’s all right,” he said low and close, his fingers just grazing the tips of my own.
“Everyone’s mind is on Halla and nothing else.
She’s loved here. They’re happy to have her and haven’t spared me a glance.
” He looked around the empty landing, making sure we were alone.
“However much I’d like to take you into a dark corner and ravish you, I need to show you something.
” That worried crease between his brows returned. “This way.”
Surrounded by his guards, I followed Theodore across the entry hall toward the opposite wing of the palace.
Candles lit the corridor where a set of doors sat propped open.
The chamber beyond was darkened, save for the odd hanging lamp that gave off a steady, low glow.
Theodore boldly took my hand and tugged me inside, toward the far end of the long room.
The musical sound of trickling water filled my ear. The tang of brine hung heavy.
He gripped my hand tighter. “Look.”