Chapter 17
Seventeen
Sorin
“Would you stop fidgeting?” Sam slaps my hand then pushes down forcefully on my shoulders until I’m planted back in the chair.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, “but I hate this.”
She laughs from behind me, her fingers working the ties of my mask again, pulling it tight against my slicked back hair. The clothes from Evren fit, but they’re stifling. The green and black fabric of the structured pants and shirt have my skin crawling.
“It’s either you wear this mask or you’re thrown in a cell, which do you prefer?” she asks, pointedly.
I roll my eyes, only because she can’t see them.
“It’s only practice, you’ll need to be able to do this on your own for the Autumn Moon so just sit still for another minute.”
“Fine.” I hate when she’s right. Which is always.
“Besides”—she steps in front of me—“you look annoyingly handsome in a mask.”
“Oh my.” I throw my hands in the air. “So, does my sister still care for me?” I don’t expect her boot to collide with my shin so forcefully, but when it does, I give out an embarrassing shriek.
“I always care about you.”
“Yes, but lately you can’t tell me something hasn’t been off.”
Her posture tenses and her eyes avert mine.
“See.” I stand from the chair, already hot from the mask and garb I’ve been forced to try on. “So just tell me what it is.”
“It’s everything. I worry about Elora and Galen. I worry about Mum.” She pushes my shoulder lightly. “I worry about you . Sometimes I don’t know what to do with all of this worry and it builds up and turns to frustration.” She sighs, brushing my shoulders and straightening the lapels of my black jacket. “Anyway. I think this is it.” She nods to the mirror.
I turn over my shoulder and glance at my reflection.
The mask Sam chose is black, with intricate carvings. I run my fingers along the delicate outlines of the sculpted fur and whiskers. Evren mentioned he has met the king on one or two occasions when he was a captain in his guard, which makes me even less confident this mask will be enough to conceal me. But, Evren also made it clear the king often does not attend the party for long, so there’s a chance I won’t even run into him.
I sigh, the pressure of the next few days pushing down on me.
The wolves outside the keep howl, a reminder that the time for us to leave is drawing near.
Ruse and Alaric were hesitant to join the Jade Guild, but something in them must have snapped because they’ve been with us for several days now.
It’s as if they sensed a change. As if they understood me when I said I was going to get her back.
“Just remember what Evren told you,” Sam says. “You answer by his name, you were a hunter, but you came to the Jade Guild to assist Thaddeus in his old age.”
“Right.” I nod, but my mind has drifted. Panic begins to gnaw its way through my gut.
Everything hinges on the Autumn Moon.
On the trust that hangs between Lord Thaddeus and I. He’s promised to aid us, promised that the other members of the Guilds will be in attendance. If this plan doesn’t work, if we don’t get Elora?—
No.
I won’t let myself think that far. We will get her out. We have to.
My heart constricts as I look at the mask again, smirking under it for my sister's cleverness.
“You’ve outdone yourself.” I say to her over my shoulder. She smiles, leaning against the doorway.
“You’d better get a move on, Thaddeus will be waiting for you.”
“I’ll see you at the Onyx Guild in a week, Sam. Be careful.” I fight the urge to scratch at the mask around my eyes. “Take care of the pups.”
She laughs. “Please, Jarek has already named them. That man couldn’t resist a puppy if he tried. I love you, brother,” Sam says, giving me her biggest shite-eating grin. “Be safe.”
“I love you, too.”
With Sam gone, I take one more glance in the mirror before changing and meeting Thaddeus. A smile dances over my lips as I trace my fingers over the black mask.
The Autumn Moon is a party for sheep, and my sister has dressed me as a wolf.
The caravan creaks and wobbles as it makes its way down the cobbled streets into Valebridge.
My fingers are restless, tempted to draw back the curtains and get a peek at the royal city, the very one I grew up in. The one I’ve dreamt about returning to often as a boy. But I remain in my seat, eyes focused on Lord Thaddeus across from me. He hasn’t stopped talking since we left Ramshire and on the second hour of travel, I tuned him out completely.
Is this what people mean when they say I talk too much? I’ll have to reconsider my entire personality after this trip.
“Did you hear me, Sorin?”
Shaking back to reality, I blink a few times to disperse the glaze that’s taken over my eyes.
“Sorry, Lord, I’m a bit distracted.” I can’t see much of Thaddeus’s face behind his mask made of ivy and golden branches, but I imagine it’s the same look of annoyance he’s so fond of giving me.
“I said the heads of the Guilds will meet us in the grand hall.”
I nod, half listening.
“They’ve agreed to review your decree of birth. Once they’ve deemed it suitable, they will hold a meeting with the council. If the council verifies it to be true, there will be a trial to remove Roman from the throne. Once he’s dethroned, a coronation will take place in a few weeks. We’ll return?—”
“You forgetting an important piece of the plan, Thaddeus?” My knee bounces in time with the caravan as we hit another stretch of cobbled bumps.
Thaddeus pushes up his mask so it rests on his forehead. His eyes narrow before softening at his realization. “Right,” he says. “The girl. Of course. How could I forget?—”
The caravan comes to an abrupt halt, and he topples forward. I barely catch him in time before his knees hit the floor.
“Thank you,” he gruffs, settling back into his seat for a moment. His yellowing teeth glint in the moonlight that’s fought its way in through the musky curtains.
The door swings open and a cacophony of sounds hits me from outside.
Varied string instruments play over one another. Songbirds and bards compete to have the highest voice. If the circumstances weren’t so vile, I may have even enjoyed the mixture of sounds and revelry. The musicians set forth with another upbeat tempo, setting the mood for a night full of undeserved revelry. Steadying my breaths, I wait for Thaddeus to finish chatting with the caravan driver.
Rain coats the cobblestones and lamp posts lit with an ever glowing flame line the road, leading up to the ivory castle. Spires shoot toward the sky like weapons. Large arched windows carved from marble surround all sides of the castle, each adorned with rich Autumn colors. Orange and red and yellow leaves piled together in elegant bouquets. Swallowing thickly, I return my gaze to the path before me. Hundreds of white pumpkins, carved with the bear crest, a candle lighting them from the inside out, line the path to the castle.
Thaddeus pats my back. “Ready, Evren.”
It takes me a moment to remember that’s the name I’m to be called tonight. Nodding, I follow him and dozens of other partygoers away from the caravans and into Valebridge.
Inside the ballroom of the Valebridge castle my jaw drops in awe as we’re greeted by rich swatches of navy and gold. Grizzly bears made of sculpted ice are centered in the large ballroom, surrounded by tables and tables overflowing with delicacies. I bite my tongue, thinking of the townsfolk in Wickersham and even Loxley. Tighter rations have begun now that the cold has started and even more so since the blight, yet here in Valebridge, it’s as if there is an oversupply.
I follow Lord Thaddeus, stopping every so often to greet and shake hands with his acquaintances. I can’t keep focused long enough to remember their names.
My heart races as I scour the room in search of the exits. One on the left, a large archway draped in deep navy where the handmaids seem to be coming and going. Trailing the crowded room, I spot a second, smaller exit. A few servers in masks have come donning trays of various deep liquors. But other than the handful, it’s much less bustling than the other exit.
That’s my escape.
With only Elora in mind, I take a step forward, before I’m tugged back.
“Not yet,” Thaddeus mouths. He has me pulled so close; I can see his eyes searching the room as well. Perhaps for the other Lords and Ladies.
My heart slams before glancing again at the now empty archway. My chance to slip out unnoticed is dwindling and if I don’t?—
“Lord Thaddeus, what a pleasure,” a voice sounds from behind us.
Thaddeus drops his grip from my arm as we turn in unison to the man at our backs. His dark curly hair is wild and unkept. His green eyes blazing and bright even through his navy mask. Black leaves outline the bottom half above his cheekbones, the sides extending to sharp points.
“Your Majesty,” Lord Thaddeus says, confirming that it is King Roman who stands before me.
My half-brother. My stomach twists as the king glances between Thaddeus and I.
Thaddeus bows, tugging at my black shirt as he does. Following suit, I’m grateful for my mask to conceal my disgust. My rage. As we straighten, my jaw remains clenched to keep from saying something. From lunging forward and using that spiked mask against him.
“Allow me to introduce you to my nephew, Evren, heir to the Jade Guild.”
“It’s an honor to be here, Your Majesty,” I manage to say through gritted teeth. I meet Roman’s eye, and beneath his mask, there’s amusement there. A smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth.
“The pleasure’s all mine, Evren,” he says, perfectly cordial. He brings his chalice to his lips, eyeing me over the cup. “Evren,” he repeats. “Familiar. Have you been to Valebridge before?”
My stomach clenches, my mind racing through all of the details Evren told me of his life before we care.
Guard.
Captain.
Hunter.
Does Roman recognize that I’m not Evren?
Thaddeus bumps my arm, soft enough it goes unnoticed by Roman who continues to study me.
“Briefly,” I say. “But I’m afraid it was so long ago I don’t recall much of it.”
His eyes narrow, as if they’re searching for something.
A memory perhaps.
“I’m honored to be here tonight, Your Majesty.” This softens his gaze, and my stomach settles. “It’s a wonder to experience the beauty of a Valebridge ball firsthand.”
“Happy to have you.” He raises his glass before turning his attention toThaddeus.
They talk as old friends, catching up over the change of the seasons. The blight. But it isn’t until I hear one word that my mind clears and my focus sharpens.
“Yes, the Dyrsjel is here,” Roman says casually, holding his chalice of wine between his first two fingers. I hone in on his movements. The slight sway on his feet, the smirk he’s unabashedly wearing now. The hint of pink across his cheeks.
My little brother is more of a lightweight than I am.
He leans in closer to Thaddeus and I. Sour wine invades the space as Roman grips Thaddeus’ arm. “Now that we have your allegiance, you’ll be amazed to see all we can do with her magick?—”
“What am I interrupting, Your Majesty?”
Time stops. My pulse thunders in my chest and the music around me becomes muddled and unclear. The rage that quickly blinded me earlier is displaced with confusion. A man steps forward, his mask an identical match to King Roman’s. But his hair. Icy and perfectly polished. His eyes. Sharp and blue.
My fists clench, and my heart rate spikes.
“Hope you haven’t had too much fun without me,” the man says. “Lord Thaddeus, correct?”
Thaddeus dips his head as the man slips his fingers into Roman’s. I track the movement, my stomach swirling.
Maybe it isn’t him. Maybe I’m wrong.
“And you are?” the man asks, his eyes even more vibrant under his dark mask. My voice lodges in my throat. Thaddeus bumps my arm with his elbow but still, I can’t move. Can’t speak.
“Forgive my nephew,” Thaddeus says through a chuckle. “It’s been a trying year. Kind sir, this is Evren Fletcher, heir to the Jade Guild.”
The man turns to me, his mouth forming a smile, but his eyes narrow as they meet mine again.
“Pleasure,” he says, a bit forcefully. I manage to dip my chin in a quick bow, but still, my words are lost.
“Now pardon us, Lady Mordona of the Bloodstone Guild has just arrived,” the man says. “We have much to discuss before the night ends. Cheers, gentlemen.” The man backs away, leading a tipsy Roman through the crowded ballroom, his hand pressed to the small of his back.
Before they make it three steps, Roman bends down and kisses the man deeply. The kind of kiss that suggests it isn’t the first. No, it’s the kind of kiss of lovers who have kissed many, many times.
My stomach churns, knees weakening as I watch the two of them mingle and chat and look perfectly comfortable with each other.
It wasn’t Galen.
But even as I lie to myself, a warning sounds inside of my head and now nothing before me appears to be real.
The dancers blur, the music fades.
It can’t be real.
“Get it together,” Thaddeus says, pulling me out of my stupor.
I follow him to a table piled high with desserts. My head spins again, knees threatening to buckle beneath me. So, I focus on what’s directly in front of me. On the ridiculous amount of food Roman’s flaunted for this Mother-forsaken party. Tiny square pastries overflowing with custard and fruit. Pumpkin tarts topped with cinnamon and nutmeg. An enormous tiered platter stuffed to the brim with almond cakes dusted with powdery white sugar.
“You’ll get us thrown to the gallows before we can even meet with the Guild members if you keep acting a fool!”
Snapping my attention to Thaddeus, I still can’t find it in me to address what it is I just saw.
Who it is that betrayed me.
Betrayed her.
I must be mistaken. There’s isn’t any way?—
“Have you fallen ill, nephew ?” Thaddeus grabs my arm.
Shaking my head, my eyes scan the room. “I need to relieve myself,” I grumble, honing in on a blonde haired man in an elegant black cape attached much too closely to our lush king.
Rage boasts my chest as I abandon my place near the dessert table, but before I make it two steps, Thaddeus grips my arm again.
“Careful,” he whispers. “Remember why you are here.” Turning, I meet his eyes. He glances toward the foyer just to the right of the ballroom. To where I am to meet with the other Guild members shortly. As his grip lessens, I clasp his shoulder.
“I’ll be back.” But not without her.
Then I’m off, weaving through a sea of masked royalty and nobles. Skirting my way around the pompous show of wealth being flaunted at every corner. Chandeliers swaying from the ceilings, dipped in gold. Huge swatches of navy fabric adorn the walls in elegant swooping patterns. The crescendo of music rises, as does my heart rate as I lose sight of the king and his escort.
Hoards of partygoers flock to the dancefloor, clogging my path.
“A dance, handsome?” Startled, I turn to see a woman glancing up at me. Her creamy white skin stands out against her vibrant red hair, and I flinch as her hand wraps around mine, pulling me to the center of the room.
Pulling me away from Galen.
I turn again, his back is to me now, but over his shoulder he looks. Just once. Those blue eyes I’d know anywhere meet mine, and my heart stops all over again. His lips pull to a tight line, but his eyes remain locked on me.
He knows.
I open my mouth to shout, but before I can, the music quickens again and with it, the crowd of revelers erupts into a frenzy. The red-haired woman pulls me around the dance floor like a ragdoll, I’m too lost in my own mind to bother what my body is doing. Too focused on my best friend standing merely feet away and yet, there may as well be an ocean between us.
Galen is the reason she is locked up.
Galen is the reason she is gone.
But why?
Small hands slide up my back, and it’s that contact that finally breaks me. Whipping my head downward, the woman casts me a smile. Her eyes widen and lust quickly fills them under her golden cat mask.
“Sorry,” I mumble, pulling her hands away from me. She scoffs but quickly recovers as another gentleman in a simple emerald mask swoops by and pulls her in for a dance. The two of them spin widely, heads thrown back in laughter. Dozens of couples swarm me.
I’m stuck. Frozen in place. Nausea roils in my stomach as I watch these people dance and gorge themselves knowing what’s happening right beneath us. Knowing the starvation in the villages and storms that curse the seas right outside the Valebridge walls.
My stomach twists again, my arms searching for anything to grab onto. I push my way out of the crowd, desperate for air.
I find my way to the exit I spotted earlier. Only Galen is no longer there. Frantic, I scan the room again. Surely, the king would be easy to spot.
No luck.
Sighing, I reach up and rub at the very real pain starting to form in my chest. Whether it be panic or heartbreak, it’s all the same at this moment.
Thaddeus spots me from across the room, his ivy mask glaring brightly against the gold candelabras mounted to the wall. I should stay. I should do what I came to do. Seek the Guild members. Fortify my decree of birth. My hand begins to travel to my jacket pocket where I know the single piece of paper that will change everything sits, but I stop.
There isn’t any more time to waste. Thaddeus shakes his head from across the room but it’s too late.
My mind is made.
I slip silently in the dark doorway, away from the party, away from the Guild members surely waiting for me in the opposite direction. I follow a narrow path that leads out of the ballroom, but before I can make it to the end, someone stumbles down the hall.