Chapter 11
No one died after dinner.
It shouldn’t have been as astonishing as it was, but Osric had set an eight-hundred-year precedent of butchery.
I’d only witnessed a few months of his atrocities, and even I couldn’t quite believe it when the tables vanished and a lively tune came lilting down from airborne musicians.
The Fae began partnering off, dancing not just with members of their own houses, but faeries from opposing houses.
The first offered hand took me aback. The other house heads were already dancing; apparently I was expected to, as well.
I took a turn with a minor noble from Earth House, then a faerie from Void, counting my steps and sweating my lack of grace.
The third dance was claimed by Lord Edric of Fire House.
Edric was an excellent dancer and an equally good conversationalist, but it felt strange—even wrong—to be in his arms. I was painfully aware of Aidan watching from the wall and that I was in the position he’d always longed to be in.
Edric was handsome, with a bright grin and dark eyes that crinkled agreeably.
Glitter had been brushed across his brown skin, and tiny ruby cuffs were dotted through his cloud of black hair.
His pupils were wide, and the drop of golden nectar at his lips told me he’d partaken of Imogen’s offering.
Fire faeries rarely denied themselves when there was pleasure to be had.
He’d been one of my favorite candidates in the trials, mostly because of Aidan, but also because he seemed decent, as faeries went.
Always livening up a room with a laugh, a witticism, or an offered drink.
He’d performed well, too—not the best, but far from the worst. The only trial I knew for certain he had failed was the Illusion trial, when he’d…
I frowned, trying to remember the specifics. We’d been in a ballroom, trying to…What had we been doing there?
I remembered standing in a spotlight at Lara’s side. I remembered writing on a magically enchanted piece of bark while hurrying around looking for something. The specifics of what I’d been writing or what the test had been were hazy, though.
My skin crawled. It had happened, as promised. The Shards had modified our memories, obscuring the details of the tests so the immortality trials could be repeated in infinite variations.
I’d lost my rhythm, thrown off-kilter by the realization. Edric looked at me curiously, then slowed his movements. “Is anything wrong?” he asked as he started turning me in a gentle circle.
“I was thinking about the trials,” I admitted. “I can’t remember what the tests were.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “It’s unsettling, isn’t it? You don’t lose all of it, but you lose enough.”
“You don’t remember, either?”
“No. This morning I did, but I realized during dinner that most of it was gone.” His mouth tipped up on one side, but it wasn’t a happy expression. “I can’t say I like it.”
Remembering my conversation with Aidan, I asked a new question. “Do you remember trying to recruit Talfryn?”
He looked surprised I’d mentioned it, or maybe that I knew about it. “Did Aidan tell you that?”
I belatedly realized I probably shouldn’t have brought it up. “Ah—”
He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I could never be upset with him, and it doesn’t need to be a secret any longer. I know you’ve been on our side for a while. Drustan told me you were working closely with him leading up to the coup.”
Working closely with him. I hoped my face didn’t reveal my embarrassment about what that had entailed. “When did he tell you that?”
“After you killed Osric.” His expression grew serious. “I just wanted to say—I’m sorry for what happened to Selwyn, and I understand why you might hesitate to declare Drustan king. But he’s a good leader and a brave one, and every sacrifice weighs heavily on him. Especially that one.”
My goodwill towards Edric abruptly faded. This dance had had a political purpose all along. First Drustan had sent me a letter through Aidan, and now he was sending diplomacy through a dance.
The music was slowing and sliding into a new tune—the music never truly stopped during Fae dancing, just morphed into the next thing—and it was a perfect excuse to step away. “Thank you for the dance, Lord Edric.”
He looked like he wanted to say more, so I headed for the refreshment table to grab a chilled glass of white wine. I drank, then pressed the sweating glass to my brow to cool my heated skin.
Every sacrifice weighs heavily on him.
Did they? They certainly weighed heavily on me.
A dark figure appeared at my side. Kallen, looking so solemn I instantly knew he hadn’t taken a single bite of those apples. He wouldn’t, though. Kallen seemed the last person to want to lose control. “Here,” he said, handing me a scroll sealed with black wax.
I took it, sliding it into the pocket of my dress. “What is it?”
“Hector’s first policies.”
So the Void prince was doing what I’d asked of him, too. “Drustan already sent me his.”
Kallen gave me a sharp look. “Is the speed or the content more important to you?”
I shook my head, feeling another bite of guilt. “If speed mattered, I’d have already chosen, and maybe Imogen wouldn’t have Mistei eating out of her hand.”
“This was inevitable. Even with Drustan or Hector leading our faction, she declared the Accord too quickly.” His eyes moved restlessly around the room. “At least now we know what we’re dealing with.”
“A villain bearing gifts?”
“She’s setting high expectations. Maintaining them will be a challenge.”
I made a face. “The Fae are practically drowning in gold. Surely it won’t be that hard to keep bribing everyone.”
“Everything has limits. And if she spends recklessly on one area, she neglects another. Something to keep an eye on.” He faced me again. “On that note, when are you going to fulfill your promise to me?”
Apparently I wasn’t going to get a reprieve from his demand to go spying with me. “So speed matters to you, after all.”
“I never said it didn’t.” He leaned in. “Tomorrow night?”
I sighed. Kallen was relentless. “Fine.”
“Send me a message telling me where to meet you.” He stepped back, bowing slightly. “Enjoy the dancing.”
“You, too,” I echoed automatically.
He shook his head. “I never do.”
“Never?” I asked, brows rising.
He paused. “Almost never.” Then he was gone, moving away through the surging crowd.
The ballroom felt too warm, the music too loud, and there was a wild edge to the dancing. The faces spinning by were ecstatic, and many lips glistened with golden nectar. A day ago the Noble Fae had been ready to gut one another, and now they looked a few drinks away from an orgy.
“So this is the new Blood princess.” The voice behind me was light and sweet, almost girlish. Dreading whatever uncomfortable interaction awaited, I turned to find Rowena and Torin standing before me.
Prickles went over my skin. The power-hungry Light duo were not who I wanted to be speaking with, much less by myself. “Lord Torin and Lady Rowena,” I said, resisting the servant’s urge to curtsy.
“It’s Prince and Princess,” Torin corrected, mouth turning down.
“I believe that issue is still in question.” I squeezed the stem of my wineglass. It cracked under my fingers, and I yelped as the two halves fell to shatter on the floor, spraying wine everywhere.
Around us, faeries stopped their conversations to stare. Then drunken laughter broke out.
Heat swept over my face. Had I gripped it that hard? More likely this was a consequence of my new faerie body. It wasn’t a noticeable change most of the time, but my strength, speed, and endurance were all slightly elevated.
I moved to pick up the pieces, but a servant was already there, bowing and apologizing as they swept away the shards. A second followed with a cloth to blot up the wine, and a moment later it was as if the accident had never happened.
Rowena laughed, a high-pitched ripple of sound. “What a charming way you have about you. Very…rustic.”
I’d heard worse. Forcing myself to smile, I pretended this was a joke we were all in on. “Yes, it comes of the peasant upbringing. How are you enjoying the dinner?”
If my aplomb had startled them, they gave no sign. Rowena looped her hand through Torin’s arm as she looked around. “It’s lovely to see Mistei embracing such revelry. I’ve been in need of a new diversion lately.”
Torin bent his head closer to hers. “You know I’ll offer you any entertainment you wish,” he murmured, stern face softening as he looked at her.
She grinned and patted his cheek. “I know, my love.”
It was jarring to see them show such obvious affection for each other.
Couples in Mistei tended to be restrained in public—Beltane orgies aside, as those fell into the category of hedonism—probably because caring for anyone was dangerous.
But Gweneira had said they’d been acting as one for centuries, so perhaps they didn’t care.
Rowena’s gaze fell to me again. “ You are certainly an interesting diversion. Tell me, whose claim do you support for the throne?”
I hadn’t expected her to ask so abruptly. Fighting the panic that said I was a fool for not knowing the answer, I lifted my chin and narrowed my eyes in a way I hoped looked regal. “That’s my business and no one else’s.”
“Oh,” Rowena said, sounding enchanted. “What an intimidating facade you are trying to put on.” She squeezed Torin’s arm. “Isn’t it adorable, darling?”
Torin looked me up and down like he might a pile of fly-ridden shit. “I would find it more charming if the new Blood princess were supporting Queen Imogen.”
I felt clumsy and gauche. They saw right through me, as anyone with half a brain would. But I could hardly back down now. “Why should I?”