“She is quite good at singing,” I offered, hands clasped before me.
Kaylin tilted her head. “Oh, she’s normally so shy!”
“I am the queen,” I whispered, tapping my ear as a little face peeked at me. “I have ears everywhere. And she has a voice that could make the stars weep.”
Seraph frowned. “I don’t want the stars to cry!”
We all laughed while Kaylin explained the compliment.
A familiar presence flickered across the corner of my vision, and my smile froze, pasted in place. Wary eyes met mine, and the woman twisted to put her back to me. Just the press of the crowd, I told myself—but something felt off, as if she were trying to hide who she spoke to.
“Excuse me.” I cut into the conversation as politely as I could, wrapping my fingers around Kallias’ bicep. “I’ll be a moment.”
A shadow of concern passed through his eyes, though his smile remained cordial and understanding. “The feast will begin shortly.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” I teased, knowing the unspoken message: he’d come find me if I didn’t return.
Within the masses, pockets of bodies formed around me—courtesy of Lynx, ever watchful. The massive Thresher towered above everyone, a walking banner announcing my approach.
Not the subtlety I’d hoped for.
Penelope spotted me, shoving a canteen into a man’s hands. Dark hair, pale skin, average build, fine green clothes, slight poof to his sleeves in outdated fashion. That was all I gleaned before he vanished into the crowd surging around me.
I fought the urge to chase him—or scream at the people to stop him based on instinct—and instead smiled at Penelope.
“It’s good to see you here,” I said, stopping before her.
“As you, Your Majesty.” Her eyes widened, pupils pinpricked. Color drained from her face. “Congratulations, and blessings on the blood shed today. I particularly enjoyed the display of your dragons.” Her tongue stumbled over the last word.
“Who was your friend? I’m afraid I just missed him.”
A tremor ran through her.
“Lynx, can you see him?” I asked, hairs prickling at the nape of my neck. “Black hair, green overcoat?”
The Thresher scanned the crowd, returning his gaze to me with a frown. “There are many who fit that description, Your Majesty.”
“Oh, don’t mind him. He’s a family friend,” Penelope hedged. “His name is Jalal, Master of Masonry in Gog. He came when King Kallias retook Reem.”
I didn’t believe her for a moment. But why lie, unless she aimed to spark another uprising—which would fail miserably after today’sdisplayof my dragons. I would need to mention it to Alma and have her watched.
“How long has he been a master?”
“Seven years. He oversaw the peak lookout—if you ever visit Gog. It’s a glorious sight.”
“When Tallon is dealt with,” and by that, I meant ‘roasted by a dragon,’ “I would love to visit. I’ll have my advisor begin planning now.”
She smiled, nerves sharpening into something edged with danger. “I shall write to my parents and inform them of your impending arrival, Your Majesty.”
“Could they not attend our wedding?” I gestured to the crowd. “This doesn’t seem like an occasion to miss.”
Perhaps it was wrong to push her. Too much remained unknown—her loyalty, whether I could trust her—but time was short. Kallias and I had drawn the line in the sand, but some still straddled it.
“You must understand—they would have come if invited,” she said, baring her teeth in a vicious smile. “But the event was so hurried, they could not make proper arrangements.”
“And yet Jalal could.”
Oh, that angered her. Color flushed her cheeks, and hatred stirred in those crystalline eyes. She was an eel, just waiting for me to slip, ready to strike from the shadows.
