“What is this?” Theodore asked the empress through a locked jaw.
The empress tilted her head, a bland look on her pale face. It was a wonder her massive diamond crown didn’t slide to the floor with the movement. “An engagement party, of course. The wedding is in just over a week.”
Princess Halla emerged from amid the guests and swept into an absurdly grand curtsy before Theodore. Her white gown was tightand studded with sparkling beads. A sheer, flowing white hood billowed over her shoulders and hooked to her tiara. “Your Majesty, I’m happy for your return.” She stood once more and gave him a blooming smile. “I’m sure you’d like to refresh yourself, but may I request a dance before you do?”
Theodore was still. Red crept up his throat, which bobbed as he swallowed back his temper. He gave Halla an almost polite nod. “One dance.”
The princess’s smile grew somehow brighter as she lifted her arms. Theodore held her hand and, keeping their distance, took her by the waist. The music swelled. The crowd cleared away. With the first steps of their dance the blood bond made my stomach feel like it was stretching. It gave a deep ache, a protesting surge of discontent. Saliva trickled over my tongue. I didn’t budge. I merely clamped my jaw, chest squeezing, and endured the discomfort.
I could feel Lachlan’s gaze on me. “You okay?”
“Don’t act like you care.”
“I care.” He blew out a fast breath. “I was mad when I found you on the road. It’s been stressful.”
“The severing draught is in my pocket.” I watched a stoic Theodore glide the princess through the steps of the dance. “Can you find Agatha for me? I’d like her to be with me when I take it.”
Lachlan gave me a heavy, searching look. “Does Theo know?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Don’t tell him. Please.”
He pursed his lips, looking ill at ease. “I’ll find Agatha.”
As soon as he left my side, a smooth, lilting voice trilled in my ear. “It looks like your travel was quite harrowing, Lady Nel.” Empress Nivala sounded benign enough, but her lapis eyes were keen as she took in the state of me.
I stepped back and dipped into a curtsy. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty. Quite.”
Her gaze cut away from me, and she watched contentedly as her daughter and Theodore continued their dance. “They’re lovely together, aren’t they?”
They were. He was the sun, fervent, constant, and it wasshethat was the pale, glittering moon, brightened by his presence. What was I then, I wondered? The slinking darkness, perhaps, burned away by the light of them both.
When the empress’s attention returned to me, the wrinkles at her eyes deepened with puzzlement. “Is there a reason that you linger? You’re covered in days-old blood.”
“No, Your Imperial Majesty.” I curtsied again, my stomach twisting further. “Excuse me.”
“Ahh, a moment.” She’d gone oddly still, all her icy attention zeroed in on me, or rather, on the engagement ring I still wore on my finger. I stopped in my muddy tracks. “Your name, my lady—Nel.” Her casual tone was so at odds with her piercing gaze. She extended a hand toward mine, the fingers long and bone pale, but her touch was warm, soft. She took my hand—the one with the ring—and began to stroke the back of it with the pad of her index finger. “I’d like to know its origins.”
Cold skittered through me, but I offered her an agreeable nod and worked to clear my mind enough to answer. Nemea’s family name was Miros. I couldn’t even remember what Ligea’s had been, though I’d learned it in my lessons. “I was born on Seraf,” I answered with a shaking voice. I could only offer her the story I’d been told.
“Seraf. I see.” Her eyes shone with cunning. That finger still traced a repetitive line over my hand. “It’s an interesting name,” she said through a small, unfriendly smile. “It’s Obelian.” Her finger stopped moving, but she did not let me go. “Did you know?”
My throat tightened, senses on alert. I shook my head.
She looked out at the collection of beautifully dressed nobility, at Theodore and Halla. Then her gaze sliced to mine. “I’ll tell you of it,” she said, as if sharing a secret that was to be kept between us. “Years ago, back when King Athan still ruled, when Seraf’s king, Nemea, was still young, my husband died. Sweet man. Simple. He liked horses. The blandest consort an empress could ever hope for.” She gave a cold chuckle. “All the Leucosian rulers came north for the remembrance. Queen Rillion. Queen Ligea too. Some of them had never visited the continent before—it’s quite a distance. The Nels were a very rich, very old Obelian family that I had been close with since my youth. Our families intermarried for generations, but by then, their members were few. A matriarch remained, her sickly grown son, and his mousy wife. They had a quiet little girl with the most perfect white curls. That first night, they hosted an elegant dinner for the Leucosian royals in their manor home.
“Between courses, we toured their gardens. It was summer and the night was unusually balmy for the north. When we returned for the next course a half an hour later, the bodies of the Nels—all four of them—were piled in the middle of the dining room, beside the table.” She tutted as if to saysuch a shame.“They’d been sliced open from their necks to their groins, so deeply that their insides spilled out onto the lovely rug.” Again, that finger traced a slow line down the back of my hand. Down the middle. Mimicking the way the Nels had been sliced. “The matriarch’s body had been stripped of its jewels. A spinel necklace and earrings to match. A ring too.”
I jolted. “That’s an awful story.”
“It is.”
“Why did you tell it to me?”
“Oh well.” She brushed her thumb over my palm quickly—over my many scars. She smiled. Then she let me go. “You, born on Seraf, with that name. It brought forth the memory.” She gave athoughtful hum. “Nemea was very handsome then. He was very attentive to me in my shock and grief over my late husband. I wonder how he’s fared.”
My pulse sped. “How many years ago was this?”
Her blue eyes rolled upward in thought. “Halla was not born yet, so, twenty-five years ago now. My, time is a savage thing, isn’t it?”
