Chapter 8
Castor
Masks and marvelers swirl around me in a dizzying display of decadence. Everyone who is anyone in the Redwood Kingdom is here. Well, I suppose that’s not true, because I am here. But there is a fantastic amount of important people at this masque.
Even the druids, who almost never step out of their roots, sit in the high viewing boxes. Though their gray, weathered skin, sunken eyes, and drab brown frocks need some tending to. And they didn’t even bother to wear masks over their tusked faces.
And then there are the mortals. The main reason I’m showing my face at this pompous party.
They think they only came for a night of magic and dancing with dryads in the treetop city they’ll later remember only in their dreams. But, for one of them, what lies ahead is not quite so lovely a picture.
I glance over my shoulder at the mortal with the sugared tarts, her silver eyes sparking like two blades striking together.
Plucking two glasses of auric wine from a passing waiter, I offer Tamarind one. “Wine?”
“Not tonight, Your Highness. King Durian is—”
“Have you found a particularly awful mortal for me to dazzle?” I drain one of the glasses, leaving it on another tray as we wind through the crowd. The wine pools with the anxiety and desperation in my gut. The pounding in my ears sounds like a ticking clock.
Taking a deep breath, Tamarind tries again. “King Durian is asking for you on the throne, Your Highness.”
“Is he trying to interfere with my search for a loving mate?” I click my tongue three times. “Why on the gods’ forested earth would he do such an inconsiderate thing?”
A line has formed up the wide dais to the throne—dryads and arborfae wishing to pay their respects to respectable King Durian.
How very charming he looks tonight with his golden hair and golden mask and golden everything.
It’s a useless element, really, painted over stronger metals because it can’t stand on its own.
But when my sapling brother discovered a mortal pirate book that told of the treasure that is gold, he decided he wanted to acquire as much as he could.
The desire hasn’t seemed to lessen as he’s grown into maturity.
Our kingdom was once, in fact, quite gold-free, save for Durian’s room.
“Pardon us,” I announce loudly, sidling past the line of eager idiots. “Must speak with my brother, the mighty and gracious Redwood King.”
Some of them gasp at the sight of me. Some trip on the steps as they hasten to move out of my way. Mutters and whispers ripple through the line. You would think I’d get used to reactions like that. I haven’t. My eyes close for a second too long, shoulders tightening.
“That’s the cursed prince,” one particularly loud dryad tells another. “I heard he kills every creature he sleeps with.”
Well, that’s a new one.
I reach the throne to find Durian grasping the hand of Lady Calla, the Redwood Kingdom’s resident stargazer.
Somehow, I always forget how terrifying she looks, with gray, papery skin and thinning hair pulled tightly back.
All of her void of color, nonexistent lips and nose, open sockets instead of eyes.
But they aren’t empty…more like endless.
As if they hold the entire universe inside.
“Lady Calla,” I say. “How is your evening so far?”
She turns her sockets on me, and I feel as though every last secret has been sucked to the surface of my skin, tattooed there for her to read. “It is only now beginning,” she answers in a voice that sounds like the wind. With this cryptic declaration, she descends the stairs.
“Took you quite a while,” Durian says to me between hand grasps and greetings. “Loitering by the wine casks, were you?”
“No need. I made sure to hire plenty of servers to dole it out.” I hold up my glass in salute to him. “You’re welcome.”
He flashes a smile at the next person in line, thanking them for attending, before he stands. His guards step between him and the waiting guests, forming an X with their golden spears.
“Take my seat for a moment, will you?” he says. “You can pretend it’s yours while I enjoy the festivities. As long as you don’t try to steal it.”
“Ah, no need to worry about that. This seat is far too uncomfortable for my delicate derriere.”
I can’t imagine how many wads of spit I’d have to dodge if I were the king. I wonder if they would dub me the Cursed King or the Crybaby King. Both have a nice ring to them, I suppose.
Durian smirks, his evergreen eyes glittering brighter than his gaudy crown. “Enjoy your hunt tonight, brother. Plenty of mortals here just dying to fall in love with you.”
“Ah, see, you already made that joke, and it is even less funny the second time.”
Ignoring me, Durian approaches the edge of the dais, spreading his hands wide as he addresses the line of people.
“I am afraid I must step away from my throne for the time being. I look forward to meeting and thanking each of you for joining us on this magical night. In the meantime, Prince Castor will greet those of you who wish to stay in line.”
My heart starts up an irregular rhythm. Yes, please, everyone come closer so I can see the precise moment your pupils dilate in fear.
Lucky for me, the majority of those in line exchange glances before retreating down the dais.
Those remaining seem merely curious to get a closer look at the prince whose curse killed the previous king.
Sending an amused glance over his shoulder, Durian descends the staircase flanked by his guards.
I sink onto the throne, deflating. Tamarind stands on my right side, hands clasped before him. His presence usually calms me—by a fraction, at least. But right now, I feel electric, every nerve ending sizzling with unease.
Those who remained in line stay long enough to ogle me before scurrying back to the party. I try not to imagine kicking them down the dais stairs…but I don’t try very hard.
“He doesn’t look cursed,” one of them whispers.
“Did you see his heartwood tree?” the other retorts. “It’s not his outside that’s cursed. It’s the inside.”
My back curves against the throne. My left hand swirls the remainder of my wine. There’s no telling how long Durian will leave me up here. He’s been known to disappear all night, stealing one of the mortal pets away to his rooms and doing unspeakable things with them.
Golden wine swirls and whirls around my glass as I agitate it. I wish I’d passed a waiter carrying cherry wine instead. I am so very sick of golden things.
Then, as if my thoughts conjured her, the mortal girl from the smorgasbord of sweets saunters into my line of sight.
She wears golden vines braided through her crown of fiery red hair, a golden brocade gown hugging every curve right up to her gold-dusted décolletage, and a delicate golden mask.
Sharp golden cuffs make pointed her mortally curved ears.
If I didn’t know better, I would say this girl was dressing to catch the eye of the king.
Odd. She appears to be entirely alone, no dryad or arborfae by her side showing off the pet they adopted for the night.
I watch her promenade through the room, very unlike most of the mortals dazzled by everything new and unimaginable.
Part of their wonderment comes from the tieg wine they’ve been tricked to consume—the drink that hazes their brain and makes them see the things they were unable to before.
But this golden girl slinks like a feline seeking its prey. Aware, alert, clear-eyed, and tense.
“Tamarind,” I say loud enough for only him to hear.
“Your Highness?”
“Look at that mortal girl, all in gold. At the far edge of the dance floor. Do you see her?”
He scans the massive crowd with knitted brows then frowns. “With the pointed ear cuffs? Wasn’t she the mortal you were speaking with by the confections?”
“That’s the one. What do you think of her?”
Something in his expression shifts. “For your pact, you mean?”
“No, Tam,” I deadpan, “to butcher and hang above my fireplace as a lovely trophy.”
His brows rise. “Really?”
I cradle my forehead in my hand. “Honestly, Tamarind, sometimes I worry for my safety with you as my guard. Yes, for my pact.”
“She looks…difficult. But is that enough to sentence her to death?”
I slide my hand down my face, propping my chin on my knuckles. “Perhaps I should find out.”
As if she feels her potential fate clicking into place, the girl dressed in gold looks up at me, silver eyes widening fractionally as they find me watching her.
I smile, lifting my glass of wine in a silent toast.