The long bridge to the center of the lake was made of worn hardwood, smoothed by decades of use. I didn’t recognize the tree it came from, but the railings had dark knots in them, and the bridge itself was slightly curved in the middle, as though everyone who crossed it used the exact center—too nervous to get near the side.
Curious why, I moved to the edge, glancing over. The water reflected the bright morning sun, moving choppily despite the winds being no more than a slight breeze. I saw a hint of scales, but the flash of silver might have been merely a reflection.
“Is it true that in the north, magic lets you speak with animals?” Velethuil asked.
He had stopped when I did, his eyes fixed on Terror on my shoulder. The bird had gone still, fluffing its feathers to look larger, as though it sensed a threat in the water. Or perhaps the threat was from the air mage still looking at me curiously.
Velethuil’s expression was so open, his smile so mild that I was reminded of the most pleasant spring day, when the sun shone and the air moved just enough to keep it cool but not enough to be an annoyance.
“Some do,” I said. “Is it true that in Ristorium, even babes of only a few days know how to fly?”
He laughed, the sound as beautiful as wind chimes. “Some do. Shall we?”
With one last glance at the water, I strode down the pier to the pavilion. The space was larger up close, spreading as wide as my full set of rooms in Turtle House.
A massive table took up the center of the space, filled with enough food to feed the entire Silver City for a week. Fruits of all colors were cut in decorative shapes in the middle, creating a menagerie of sweets. Sweetbreads formed a mountain on one side, and platters of meats and cheeses took up the other. An enormous wheel of cheese lay propped up, so large it looked like it could have been one of the wheels on the carriage we’d arrived in.
Servants in yellow moved between couches and pillows arrayed for sitting, refilling glasses and offering platters of different delicacies. Automatically, I counted the people in attendance and came up with a number in the mid-sixties. Closer to seventy when I counted the group balancing right on the edge of the deck, about to fall into the water.
A girl shrieked and spun her arms, her long, flowing dress getting damp from the water. “Save me!”
One of the other men pushed her toward the water at the same time as someone grabbed her arm, pulling her out of the way. A massive sea creature jumped out of the water, snapping its jaws at where she had been. She screamed, pushing at the man who’d nearly killed her.
A flock of beautifully dressed women collected around her, cooing and reassuring her. They whisked her away as the man angrily threw his goblet into the water.
“What was that creature?” I asked.
“A sea serpent,” Velethuil said. “I thought they were from the north.”
Tilting my head, I considered what I’d seen. “Sea serpents are large, nearly as long as whales. That might have been an adolescent, but there isn’t enough room or food in the lake for sea serpents.”
“The palace drags one or two out of the water each year to kill and eat.” Velethuil made a face. “Messy business, but the meat is worth it. Quite delicious.”
In the north, we wouldn’t know. We didn’t eat sea serpents because the sea serpents ate our dead, carrying their souls into the afterlife in the far north.
I turned away. I was not here to rescuesea serpents. I was not here to save them, even if what was being done to them was sacrilege. Forcing my eyes back to the party, I tried to find my host, General Kacha.
On the opposite side of the party from the absolutely suicidal partygoers trying their hand at murder via sea serpent, three women adorned only in gold chains danced around a man in a chair, teasing at his skin with silk scarves and their own flesh until his cock leaked come. Then one leaned forward and slapped his face hard enough that I winced at the sound. His mouth fell open, eyes glassy as he looked up at her. The crowd seated around them hooted and laughed.
Annoyed, Terror flapped his wings, flying up to land in the rafters.
I heard a roar like a bear and jerked my head to the side to see two servants in yellow struggling as they held fast to two chains, a collared lion kept between them only by the tension of the chains. If either of them released their end, if they even loosened their grips, they would be killed. Spectators shouted between themselves, calling out numbers I recognized as bets on which servant would get attacked first.
The laughter reached a crescendo. The servant on the left was a young boy, likely no older than fifteen, his body all awkward limbs and a face that didn’t quite fit his size yet. He flinched, his grip slackening just enough that the chain could slide through his fingers, and the lion turned on him. The other couldn’t hold the chain when the lion spun on the boy, dragging itself free. The fifteen-year-old’s eyes went round, and he raised both hands as though he could ward off a lion with nothing more than his palms.
I was moving, my hand going to my waist, but all of my weapons were back at my quarters, even the ceremonial ones that were more decorative than functional. Grabbing a spare fork off the tray of a passing waiter, I held it tight against my wrist, ready to attack.
A burst of light so bright it left a glowing afterimage in my eyes snapped across the party. The loud snap was almost an afterthought, shattering one of the bowls of fruit nearby and sending round apples rolling across the floor. A half dozen people dropped to the ground, screaming.
I skidded to a stop, my boot barely touching the lion. Smoke rose from its mouth. One of its eyes had charred black, the lightning cauterizing the wound it made. The lion was dead.
Turning to the servant, I asked, “Are you alright?”
He had fallen to the floor, scrabbling backward on his elbows and heels, and when he looked up at me, I saw pure terror. Footsteps sounded loud across the floor, and a man wearing a longer version of the coat typical in the Imperium moved through the crowd, people parting before him without complaint.
White electricity still played between his fingers, and he looked over at me and the fallen servant before turning back to his kill. His expression was cold, nearly contemptuous. His eyes dragged over the lion, then again to the trembling servant.
“You let it loose,” the man said, his voice silky.
