The Night Lord's Shadow

Chapter 1

Walk across the courtyard and get a glass of wine, Lysandra. No one will notice if you’re quick.

The night is stifling, and the wine fountain beckons, but I press my back against the cool marble column instead.

This spot is too good to give up; no one has approached me in the last hour, but I’m visible enough that Seran can’t accuse me of hiding.

I’ll just go thirsty. Better to get through this party unbothered and unburned.

I don’t know why Seran insisted I come tonight.

I usually spend my birthday alone. But an hour before sunset, he showed up at my door with an order to attend and a dress with barely enough fabric to count as a scarf over one arm.

So here I am, one year older, not hiding against this marble column in a scrap of silk, not counting the minutes until I can return to the Sunrise Palace.

The courtyard spins around me, chatter and clinking glasses and gold flashing under rows of glowing torches.

I check the positions of the people who could make tonight miserable.

I’m about as far away from my father as I can get without being in the hedges.

Emperor Belzas sits on a dais, his flame-red hair swooping upward, his tanned skin burnished like he spends his days in the sun instead of this white marble palace.

Even from here, I can see the heat waving the air around him.

I’m usually beneath his notice, and I doubt tonight will be any different, especially considering he’s distracted.

A woman in his lap giggles and tosses her white-blonde hair.

She has one thigh draped over his armrest, her skin a shade past rosy from the heat.

He plucks a grape from a golden dish and presses it to her mouth, his thumb following the fruit between her lips.

She holds his gaze and sucks until her cheeks hollow.

Impressive that she can do that without choking. Mother must be thrilled. Thank goodness I haven’t spotted the empress yet tonight.

Three of my half-brothers cluster close to the throne, their bronze skin casting off simmering energy, their crimson heads catching the firelight.

Marus, three hundred years my senior, and Borin, two hundred, usually don’t seek me out.

Marus is more concerned with his own nose and Borin with drink.

But Jasper, youngest of the seven princes, seems to take special pleasure in reminding me I’m the lowest in the pecking order. As if I could somehow forget it.

I avert my eyes so I don’t accidentally pull his attention toward me.

The party is growing livelier by the minute, guests swaying to the music and raising their voices. The court is here celebrating the last day of summer, but the end of the season hardly matters when the emperor’s power makes it balmy year-round, one sun-drenched day melting into the next.

The dancing will begin soon. This seems like the perfect moment to exit…

My father stands, dumping the woman off his lap. The music stops mid-note. Conversations cut off, and in seconds, every eye is on the emperor. It’s so quiet, I hear the clunk when his hand lands on his goblet.

“To the last night of summer,” his voice booms out. “Though our bright days never end.” He lifts it, and everyone in the courtyard does the same.

He downs the drink, then holds his goblet out for his attendant, who leaps forward to refill it.

I swear I’ve seen more faces cycle through that position than any other, being slow or sloshing wine guaranteed to get a burn.

This slim young man angles the pitcher to fill the goblet in a breath, and steps back without a drip. Well done him.

My father raises his newly filled cup. “And a toast to my youngest daughter, Lysandra.”

I blink and shake my head. I could not possibly have just heard my name come out of his mouth. I misheard. I hallucinated.

But when I refocus on him, his golden goblet is tilted in my direction, his ember eyes on me. My skin erupts in chills.

“A blessed twenty-first birthday to the Princess of the Dawn. To her beauty and her future.”

Glasses rise, then tip toward mouths.

Oh no.

Now I know why I’m here tonight.

He just reminded every person here what twenty-one means: marriageable.

He just told the lords at court I’m on offer.

My father resettles himself in his chair as eyes around the courtyard peel off him and find me. Chatter picks up, murmurs accompanying glances in my direction.

This column at my back is no longer my friend. I push off it in a daze, heading for the closest wine fountain. I don’t know what to do about all these stares, but I know I’ll bear them better if my throat isn’t so dry.

How did I not see this coming? I never imagined, not even for a second, that this birthday would matter.

The emperor waited half a decade to find Thalia and Evinestra husbands, and even longer for Esmerelda.

Perhaps seeing Rinalda unwed these last fourteen years as part of her punishment led me to believe I would be left alone in the Sunrise Palace too.

But then again, my red-haired sisters are perfect vessels for Ignar’s power. Our father can show them off proudly. My value to the throne will only ever be in the heirs I produce, and it seems like he has no intention of wasting time before collecting.

I reach the fountain, the overflowing basins bubbling black in the torchlight. I snatch a cup and dip it into the flow. I sense more than see the lords closing in as I take one quick gulp.

“The Princess of the Dawn, at last,” a lord with a cropped beard says. He takes my hand even though I didn’t offer it and studies my hair. “The name suits you. Like the first blush of dawn.”

A pretty way to say not red. I can thank Seran for that clever packaging. I fold my discomfort down inside me, turning up the corners of my mouth in a polite smile. “Thank you, my lord.”

“I’ve just come back from purchasing land in Mordun. The sunrises alone are worth the journey. The cliffs make for spectacular views, and I have plans for a manor—”

“Your highness!” Another lord shoulders in as the first one glares. “I don’t believe we’ve spoken before. You’re not easy to find at these things.”

True, though I sincerely doubt he’s ever tried to find me before.

“Tell me, do you prefer riding or archery?”

I haven’t spent much time on horseback, but I have never held a bow at all. “Riding.”

“I’ve been shooting since I could walk. I could show you sometime on the grounds of my estate, just outside Illios.”

I suppose my preference for riding was irrelevant, then.

A third lord doesn’t bother with a greeting, speaking as soon as my eyes flick to his face. “Which of your father’s castles has he given you? As a personal holding, I mean?”

At least this one is direct with his priorities. I’ve barely left the Sunrise Palace in ten years, let alone laid claim to any castles. “None, my lord.”

I don’t hear his reply as more lords join the circle, talking over each other. As soon as my eyes move off one and onto the next, a new conversation starts.

“Oh, how interesting,” I say. “I’ve never tried it…not as many as I’d like…I’ve been once.” Words find their way to the surface in response to each lord, although most of their questions are just thinly veiled excuses to speak of their strengths.

I stiffen my upturned lips to ensure my smile doesn’t falter. One man grabs my wrist and kisses my fingers, and another takes my wine to refill it even though I never had a second sip. Someone shows up with a new cup, shortly before the prior lord brings my original back.

I accept both. At least no one can take my hands when they’re full.

How did my sisters ever survive this? I wish I had their power to singe a few eyebrows as the lords lean in.

A hand claps on my shoulder, and I jump.

“Back off, leeches. You’ll have to find another bloodline to dirty with your insipid seed.”

Jasper bares his teeth at the lords, who have the good sense to shrink away.

I wish this was salvation, but whatever he has in mind, it’s not for my benefit.

I barely manage to set down my cups of wine before he steers me through the quickly parting crowd toward the dais.

He stops at the edge of the raised platform, outside my father’s line of sight, in front of a broad-chested man in crimson silk.

“Lysandra, this is Weslyn Gavros. He’s been dying to meet you.” Jasper squeezes my shoulder, and heat builds under his palm. Just enough to remind me what he can do.

Weslyn looks me over in excruciating detail, eyes lingering on the dip of my neckline.

Great. One of Jasper’s friends.

“Your highness.” Weslyn bows. “I must say, the view from afar doesn’t do you justice.”

How I wish I was afar right now. “Lord Weslyn…” With Jasper gripping my shoulder, I can’t think. “Have you been to the end of summer party before?”

“Who hasn’t been to the end of summer party?” Jasper asks, shaking me.

Weslyn smirks. “Your brother tells me you’re the quiet one.”

“She keeps to herself,” Jasper says. “But she’s agreeable.”

He’s pitching a horse to a buyer. She stays in the pasture. Doesn’t bite. Trots for an apple or a switch. I’m sure my smile is as stiff as my shoulders.

“My family provides the wine for this event every year.” Weslyn gestures to a fountain. “The fountain was my new concept. As you probably figured out, we own the Gavros vineyards.”

I hadn’t. “And where are the Gavros vineyards?”

He grins as if he’s being good-natured to indulge me. “Vernys. We just finished a new wing on the estate. Forty rooms. Plenty of space.”

I almost sigh in relief as he blathers on about the fountains, his estates, and the superior quality of his grapes. Weslyn will never be my husband. My father will not pair me with a vernalian lord.