7. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Archer
There wasn’t enough wine in the world to make Father’s latest revel tolerable.
I’d wanted to slip away to my quarters hours ago, but I’d learned years ago that displeasing Father over a party wasn’t worth it.
Better to put on my charming mask and pretend it wasn’t disgusting to watch the nobility lose themselves to drunkenness, gluttony, and every base desire while anyone outside Rainsong’s invisible barrier had been left to suffer their fate alone.
Worst of all, Owen was on a shift patrolling the Lower District and Lily was training with her father—nearly the only acceptable excuse for her and the general to miss one of these parties. Without my friends, this one was exceptionably awful.
My only comfort was knowing that, on our excursion the night before, we’d managed to both return the prisoners and assist Mossgrove in stopping the revenants that had risen in that village.
Now they knew to burn their dead immediately and to keep guards posted day and night to watch for roaming revenants.
Liana, the message keeper, had promised to keep me informed about possible threats.
But she couldn’t see everything, and Owen, Lily, Cliff, and I couldn’t save everyone, either.
Not to mention, Father was furious that the prisoners had escaped.
He hadn’t hinted at suspecting me of interfering, but he’d gone on plenty about my failures.
It was part of the reason why he’d ordered the servants to prepare for such a wild party tonight—he’d wanted to keep our people drunk and happy and distracted, rather than fixating on the fact that anyone he’d condemned to death had escaped his clutches.
He didn’t want anyone to suspect him of being weak.
After an hour or two of pretending, for my people’s sake, that I didn’t despise every moment of this party, I’d managed to slip out of the castle and its grounds and into the streets, where citizens were partying with simpler music, less elaborate dances, and common food and drink rather than the excessively rich fare Father insisted upon.
Their company was far more palatable, notwithstanding the occasional female who tried to garner my favor.
“Is His Highness in need of a dance partner?” a female called out, blushing and giggling as she sauntered over, arm-in-arm with her friends. They all carried overflowing goblets of wine balanced precariously in their free hands. Her lavender eyes roved over me brazenly.
“Not at all, thank you.” I grinned and lifted my own goblet I’d procured from the nearest tavern.
“Oh, a drinking partner then!” She released her friends’ arms and practically skipped to me, spilling some of her wine along the cobblestones in the process. “My name is Skye.” She fluttered her lashes.
Once, I’d been more interested in companionship and frivolity and parties.
There’d been a thrill in charming my people and celebrating late into the night, in losing myself in the elaborate magical displays and artistry and music our most talented citizens had put on.
In tasting every delicacy, laughing at every well-timed joke, and enjoying the attention and affection of any female I desired.
But ever since Father had abandoned the rest of our people, and increasingly after my bargain with Mortius, I had no patience for any of it.
“Your friends…” I began, even as they continued on into the crowd gathered around some musicians playing at the far end of the street.
“Oh.” The female waved a careless hand. “They have their own dancing and drinking partners.” She cast me an appraising look, and suddenly, I worried maybe she wasn’t as drunk as I’d initially assumed. “Why are you here alone, Prince Archer? It’s most unlike you to be brooding in the shadows.”
I took another gulp of my wine to buy myself time. “Just…thinking of all the concerns our kingdom faces.”
“True.” Her expression turned solemn. “It’s absurd, really, how many of those bird-brained arsonists still hide in our city.
” She shuddered. “You are very brave, defending us against them—and the way you fought for the outer villages against the undead the shifters raised. But it’s good your father has since ordered everyone to stay within the barrier and its protection.
It’s not worth risking the court, the crown prince, or our finest soldiers for those country dwellers. ”
My stomach twisted with revulsion and indignation, but I tried to quell the feeling. Best to pretend I agreed with my father’s decree rather than arouse suspicion that I was actively defying him.
Instead, I focused on something else she’d hinted at, something that had piqued my interest. “You believe the necromancer is a phoenix shifter, too?” I asked.
“Of course. Doesn’t everyone?”
Before I could ask her more and find out if she knew anything of value, racing footsteps made us turn toward the street, where a guard was running through the gathered dancers. Grey. As if he’d felt me looking, he stopped scanning the crowd and met my gaze.
“Your Highness!” He ran to me, his usually stoic expression looking…almost afraid?
I straightened immediately, setting my goblet down on the porch railing of the tavern. “What’s happened?”
Grey’s eyes flitted briefly to the female behind me—Ruby?—before he refocused on me. “A worshipper from Solea's temple has crossed the barrier,” he said urgently, keeping his voice low enough he couldn’t be overheard. “The dead are rising from within their graveyard.”
“Return to your post. I’ll handle it.”
“Your Highness—”
“I won’t go alone,” I reassured him. “Now hurry. If they’re rising that close to the capital now, we must ensure every corner is safe and any recently deceased are burned immediately. Spread the word and hold your post.”