Chapter 22
Petra
Midnight had long since passed. I’d left Cal sleeping in the oversized bed and slipped silently out of our suite. I wasn’t sure where I was going, but I needed to find a way to quiet my thoughts. A walk through the castle was worth a try. Queen Irli had told us to feel free to do just that, right?
Ornate rugs lined the endless halls, muffling my footsteps.
I moved through the winding corridors of Araqina’s castle like a restless ghost. All manner of art covered the stone walls, but I didn’t stop to inspect the intricately woven tapestries or the canvases so old the paint was cracking. I just kept walking.
Two weeks. Two fucking weeks of doing nothing but waiting for this fucking ball.
Two weeks of meandering through the castle.
I was going to crawl out of my skin. Miles, Cal, and I had all agreed to spend time in the library tomorrow.
It felt futile, searching a library full of books for something that could help. But what else could we do ?
Maybe we could fly to Eddena and back while we waited, use these two weeks to cover a bit more ground.
I mentally scanned the list Summercut had given us and squeezed my eyes shut with frustration.
If I remembered correctly, the trip to Eddena would take two days, but that was just the flight there.
Maybe if we pushed through like we’d done from Redwater to Nesan, we could cut it down by a day.
I had no idea what sort of reception we’d be greeted with, and–
“He looks just like him.”
I froze as the words echoed through the cavernous corridors. Queen Irli’s voice was coming from around the corner. “Deny it all you want, Laion, but we both know what we saw.”
The rugs must have muffled my footsteps enough that they hadn’t heard me coming. This was not my business to overhear, yet I found myself craning my neck around the corner, only to slink back into the shadows when I saw the guards who stood on each side of a door that was slightly ajar.
“The Daughter of Katia is here within our walls, there are drivas in Araqina, and your concern is about him ?” King Laion barked in response.
Him? What him ? Miles? Cal?
“Of course he is my concern, Laion, and he should be yours, too,” Irli said, her voice scolding.
“Why the hell should he be of any concern to me?”
“He looks just like–”
“Do not speak that name in my house, woman,” Laion threatened, his voice reverberating off the sandstone walls.
What name?
Silence fell for a moment. I could feel the tension of the stand-off from where I stood in the hallway. I had no right to this private moment, yet I leaned closer, like the silence that stretched between them could tell me something.
“Laion, please ,” Irli said weakly, the last word punctuated by a sob. I straightened, my eyes widening as I listened .
“It’s not my concern and it will take up no more of my time.”
“You don’t think it’s a coincidence he came now? That the Saints had nothing to do with his arrival when it’s only a few days from–”
“This discussion is over,” he shouted, the sound of his retreating footsteps echoing from the room.
“You’re acting foolish!” she shouted back.
A beat of silence passed before I heard a door click shut, as if they’d just realized it’d been open the whole time.
But Laion wasted no time, the sound of his muffled voice traveling through the closed door.
I couldn’t make out any of their words as they continued to volley back and forth, growing louder and louder with each response.
Unease filled me as I took a cautious step forward, out of the protection of the shadows, and turned left, away from the King and Queen’s chambers and toward my own.
As soon as I turned another corner and peered over my shoulder to make sure I was alone, a whooshing breath left my lungs. And in its place came the questions.
What. The. Fuck? What had I just overheard?
But my internal questions halted as I slammed into a wall. No, not a wall, but a lieutenant.
“Saints,” Miles snapped, his hands finding my shoulders and righting me. “Why the hell are you out here unguarded?”
“I-I–” I stammered, the words tangling behind my lips when I met his gaze.
There was a darkness there that had nothing to do with the low light of this corridor.
I was the most powerful being in this entire city, but something about being at the end of Miles’ stare right now made me want to hide. “I couldn’t sleep. I needed some air.”
Had he heard the conversation between the King and Queen? Had he been hiding in the shadows, listening from behind another corner?
“That was a stupid fucking move, and you know it, Petra,” he snarled .
Something was different about the energy between us, like it was suddenly worn thin, tattered and threadbare. The lines of his face appeared harder, more severe. It had to be the light, right? And his dark eyes… They were almost glistening. Had he been crying?
He looked awful.
I leaned forward, placing a careful hand against his elbow. “Are you okay, Miles?”
He tensed, making no attempt to hide his discomfort as he averted his gaze. “Never better, your Majesty. You don’t have to keep asking me.”
I wanted to call him on his bullshit, demand an answer.
Tell him I was his queen and command him to tell me what was going on.
I wanted to tell him I was his friend and he could talk to me.
But I didn’t. For all intents and purposes, Miles had died in the rubble of Eserene.
His chest had gone still. I’d been the one to yank him back here to the Human Realm.
It occurred to me something like that might wreak some havoc on a soul.
I swallowed hard, trying to appear nonchalant. “What are you doing up?”
He shifted on his feet, his eyes somewhere behind me. “Same as you. Couldn’t sleep.”
I opened my mouth to ask if he’d heard the conversation between the King and Queen, but the sound of a door swinging open stopped my words. Cal appeared in the doorway to our suite, the contours of his bare chest almost as distracting as the blade in his grip.
“Petra,” he breathed, his jaw tight as he stared back and forth between me and Miles. “What’s wrong?”
I opened my mouth, but Miles spoke first. “Nothing,” he muttered, pushing past me and turning the corner before I could even respond.
My eyes found Cal, but his stayed trained on the space Miles had just vacated for one second longer. My arms crossed over my chest, my hands holding my elbows as if it would bring me some sense of comfort. “Are you sure he didn’t mention anything was wrong when you two talked?”
“He’s fine,” Cal answered quietly, extending a hand toward me. “Come on. Let’s go back to bed.”
I followed Cal through the suite to our bedroom, climbing into bed beside him.
We were silent as our limbs tangled together, his hand closing over mine before his breathing slowed.
And after Saints knew how long, when I finally drifted off, I dreamed of Miles pulling me below the surface of the ocean.
◆ ◆ ◆
The meeting with the military officials was nothing but a formality.
King Laion had briefed everyone he needed to and given the order to follow me, and that was that.
It had been almost suspiciously easy to gain their support, but then it occurred to me that I’d addressed the group of men in the training yard while standing in front of a trio of drivas, steam puffing from their nostrils and talons gouging canyons in the dirt.
I, on the other hand, was having a hard time going along with King Laion and Queen Irli’s plan.
I’d taken to trying to convince myself this was a good idea, even though I didn’t have a better one.
A ball is a good idea. A ball is a good idea.
A ball is a stupid fucking… No, a ball is a good idea.
Maybe if I chanted the words enough in my head, I’d believe them.
We’d have the ball. I’d put the fear of death into every attendee by calling on Adorex, Obitus, and Gehenna. We’d gain the support of every kingdom of the realm. We’d have a massive military to fight Malosym. And then…
Then what?
How could we possibly figure out his plans? Where would he strike? Could we lure him somewhere and give ourselves some kind of advantage? How many drivas did he have? And how the actual fuck was I supposed to free Katia and Rhedros from the Darkness Beyond?
Fuck.
“Shoulders, your Majesty.”
My thoughts faded as I blinked at the reflection of the woman staring from behind me.
“Relax your shoulders, your Majesty.” Tilda, a seamstress, gently pressed two fingers into each of my shoulders.
I hadn’t even realized they’d been bunched almost all the way to my ears.
I pushed out a deep breath as I stretched my neck and let my shoulders fall.
Tilda returned to her work, measuring every inch of my body with squirrely movements.
A dress fitting. I kept myself from grumbling under my breath at the absurdity of a fucking dress fitting.
Queen Irli had insisted a gown be made for me.
“You can’t attend a ball in traveler’s clothes,” she’d tutted when I laid out the contents of my bag for her perusal this morning.
So here I was, standing stock still on a pedestal in my underclothes as Tilda scratched one final measurement on her pad of parchment and scurried across the room.
“Queen Irli set aside some fabrics for you to choose from,” she said as she rifled through a trunk and pulled out a handful of swaths. “There’s this beautiful lilac silk here. I think it would look wonderful with your coloring. Oh, how about this light turquoise? We also have this peach organza.”
An internal cringe tightened my insides. My mind had been made up long before the seamstress had shuffled into my chamber. “Black.”
Tilda froze, thin brows rising over creased, dark eyes as she furiously shook her head. “Oh, no, your Majesty. Black is strictly for funerals in Nesan.”
Perfect. Because if we didn’t defeat Malosym, we’d all be dead. “I’d like the gown to be black, please,” I said quietly, but I made sure my tone was firm .
Tilda’s head continued shaking. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, your Majesty. Queen Irli would not be pleased.”
“I’ll talk with Queen Irli.” I recognized a flash of uncertainty in her eyes.
Was that fear? I couldn’t imagine anyone fearing the Queen Irli I’d met last night, but then again, I wasn’t a subject of hers, nor was I in her employ.
I lowered my voice, hoping I came across sympathetic. “Is she unkind to you, Tilda?”
“Oh,” she answered quickly, turning back to close the trunk of fabric before popping open the latches on another one.
“No, your Majesty. Queen Irli is kind to me. It’s King Laion who–” A gasp squeaked from Tilda and her hands flew up to cover her mouth.
“I shouldn’t say anything. Please forgive me, your Majesty, I’m not used to being spoken to much during dress fittings. ”
Her words tugged at my heart, a physical ache that left a hollowness behind.
I desperately wanted more information about the King and Queen.
I wanted to figure out what the hell they were talking about when I overheard them last night.
But that flash of fear I’d seen in Tilda’s eyes stuck in my mind.
She needed some kindness, and I needed some answers.
“It’s okay, Tilda,” I said gently with a smile. “I won’t breathe a word of this to Queen Irli. Or to King Laion, for that matter.”
“Thank you, your Majesty,” she said quietly, digging through the trunk that was brimming with black fabric in every type of material. “Are you sure a black dress is what you want?”
I stared at the curves and dips of my body that had filled out since leaving Inkwell. It felt like a lifetime since I walked the dirt roads of the poorest district in Eserene. So much had changed. And yet, so much was still the same. I was still fighting. I was still focused on survival.
I was still me. Maybe a little rougher in some spots, smoother in others. But still me.
“Yes,” I said. “Please.”
Tilda nodded quickly, pulling an armful of fabric from the trunk. She busied herself draping panels over my shoulders and hips, but all the while, she looked nervous. “I think satin will work best,” she said so quietly, it was almost a whisper. “Queen Irli likes satin.”
How could I tie that into another question? I didn’t want Tilda to close herself off. “Do you make many dresses for Queen Irli?”
“Oh, yes,” she answered, pulling a pincushion from a drawer in a small side table and spearing one through a few layers of fabric at my back. “Queen Irli loves gowns. She wears them often.”
I watched as she worked the fabric in different ways, shaking her head or nodding to herself as she folded and pleated and pinned.
“I’m afraid my education is lacking,” I started, “so I’m unfamiliar with Nesan and its royal family.
Forgive me for asking, but did King Laion and Queen Irli lose someone, Tilda?
” I tried to keep my words as earnest as I felt.
Tilda’s movements paused, her eyes widening in the mirror. It appeared as if she was weighing whether or not to answer me. “Their son, your Majesty.”
I pursed my lips, nodding as she continued her work. “Thank you for telling me, Tilda. I’m not quite used to dealing with royalty, so I’m unsure I’d be comfortable asking either of them myself.”
Tilda pushed one more pin through the fabric before she moved to the small pad of parchment on a worn desk near the wall.
With her head down, she silently began scribbling.
I was afraid to ask her more, afraid she’d somehow pass along the message to the King or Queen that I’d been prying.
I didn’t even have time to think of something else to say, though, because it took less than two minutes before Tilda rose again and presented her drawing to me.
On the parchment was a ballgown with a fitted, off-shoulder bodice and draped skirts. It was beautiful in its own right — nothing like the obnoxiously flamboyant Eserenian initiation gowns .
“Wow,” I murmured. “I can’t believe you sketched this so quickly. You’re very talented, Tilda.”
A near-instant blush crept over the seamstress’ cheeks as she bashfully lowered her head. “Thank you, your Majesty.”
“It’s beautiful, really,” I said, tracing the drawing on the paper with my fingers. “But, would you be open to another idea?”
Tilda blanched, her eyes widening.
“I assure you that should King Laion take any issue in my choice of color or style, you will not be blamed. This was my request.”
Tilda swallowed hard, but I swore I saw her shoulders drop the slightest bit. “What did you have in mind?”
“Well, I guess I should ask, how angry do you think he’ll be?”