More guests milled through open doors that led to other equally opulent rooms on either side of the hall. From somewhere beyond,there came the plucking and hum of musicians tuning their instruments. I had planned a surreptitious getaway, sneaking into a crowd when the music and chatter were at their peak, but I couldn’t bring myself to stand still a moment longer.
I set my wineglass on the nearest marble table, lifted the hem of my skirt, and made for the nearest door, where a new swell of voices rose above the clatter and winding music.
Aleka called after me, her voice even but tight. “Your Majesty.”
But I didn’t yield to her call. I made my way into the corridor and tucked against the wall as I searched the crowd of finely dressed guests who were descending from an upper floor. I stopped dead in my tracks when I spotted Halla. She was impossible to miss. Her glittering white skirt was so full that it took up the entire width of the staircase, but it was the look of absolute bliss on her face that held my attention. It was a look of repletion, a look that only a woman who had finally been given everything she’d ever wanted would wear.
Fear ripped through me. What if shehadgotten everything—Theodore’s blood included.
Then I saw him. He walked at the very back of the group, trailed by his armored guards. His uncrowned head was hung, and he looked like someone had reached through his ribs and plucked his heart directly from his chest. As the group dispersed, Halla made her way into the hall I’d just left, smiling, surrounded by a group of women who laughed and doted upon her. When I looked back toward Theodore, he’d stopped on the stairs with his hand wrapped tightly around the banister and his wretched gaze on me.
Even miserable, he was perfectly striking in his dark blue suit. He stood straight and proud, and as he took me in, that troubledcrease in his brow began to fade. I didn’t imagine the light that slowly filled his eyes.
“Gold,” he said, softly stricken, taking in the dress I wore.
On Della, Agatha had found a gown in the deepest, richest gold-hued silk. The back was deeply cut, low enough for my wings. It was the skirt, however, that I loved the most. The silk flowed like water, but it had a delicate overlapping pattern upon it that reminded me of feathers. Or, perhaps, scales.
“I thought you’d like it.”
He descended the rest of the way down the stairs and reached for my hand.
“You shouldn’t—”
“It’s all right,” he said low and close, his fingers just grazing the tips of my own. “Everyone’s mind is on Halla and nothing else. She’s loved here. They’re happy to have her and haven’t spared me a glance.” He looked around the empty landing, making sure we were alone. “However much I’d like to take you into a dark corner and ravish you, I need to show you something.” That worried crease between his brows returned. “This way.”
Surrounded by his guards, I followed Theodore across the entry hall toward the opposite wing of the palace. Candles lit the corridor where a set of doors sat propped open. The chamber beyond was darkened, save for the odd hanging lamp that gave off a steady, low glow. Theodore boldly took my hand and tugged me inside, toward the far end of the long room.
The musical sound of trickling water filled my ear. The tang of brine hung heavy.
He gripped my hand tighter. “Look.”
At the end of a narrow aisle were a huddle of guests, kneeling before a tall gilt shrine. Sitting at its center was a small statue of awoman with a large gash running down the middle of her torso. It gaped below her small breasts, and her fingers held the skin open as if inviting worshippers to look within the cavern of her body and marvel.
I gripped Theodore’s warm hand harder as I took in the statue’s hairless head, the delicately carved rippling skin that hung beneath her eyes. Her arms were oddly thin, and her legs looked like they’d become one, as if they’d been bound together by a wrap of scaly flesh. The shape of her bones showed through it. The toes were too long, all webbed and crooked.
Just like that nekgya, endless years in the water had turned Eusia into something unrecognizable.
Before the altar, which was a wide wall of finely crafted gold and silver, studded with blue gems, sat a basin that collected the seawater trickling down the wall. I studied the details etched into the gold—the depictions of crashing waves, of barnacles and urchins tucked into the edges. Beneath Eusia, in morbid layers, I could make out tangled limbs and disembodied wings. The nekgya. And just above her glittering statue was a wide circle. It was well placed to look like a nimbus, adding to her ethereal gravity, but I could spot what it really was.
Her pool.
Revolting awe overtook me. It was brilliantly done. The opulence, the astounding declaration of it. Eusia had beaten death and Gods, she’d outpaced time, she’d overcome the indominable sea. She’d spent hundreds of years remaking herself, hollowing herself out, changing again and again so that she might persevere. So that she might collect power.
How easy it must be for them to worship her, to excuse the misery and the pain and the true monstrosity of it all when it was clad in shimmering gold and dotted in brilliant gems. How could theynot bow when they themselves stood to gain some of her hard-won power in exchange for mere drops of their blood.
I looked up at Theodore, who was quiet with fury beside me. I sounded utterly forlorn. “I don’t see how…”
He gave my hand a silencing squeeze, his fiery eyes stuck to Eusia’s effigy. When the last Obelian who lingered before the offering bowl at Eusia’s disfigured feet left, he finally spoke.
“I abhor her,” he said in a violent whisper. “All she’s done and all she stands for. But if there is one commendation I am willing to give her, it’s that she is and has been abominably tenacious. Not once has she faltered. And she’s still alive for it.” Finally, he turned to face me. “We must be the same if we wish to defeat her and survive.”
Perhaps she’d never once faltered, but I certainly had. Time and again.
Warmth filled his desolate gaze, and he dragged it over my features like he so often had in the past. Memorizing, cataloging, revering. He spoke so gently. “I know you’re tired, Immy. After, when everything is over, we’ll rest.”
We.My eyes burned and I blinked against the sensation. “I’m not sure I’ll know how.” I could not think of a time in my life when I’d truly felt safe enough to attempt it. And I could not fathom how the life of duty I was meant to take up after all this—if I survived—would have space for it.
His thumb swiped over the back of my hand. “We’ll learn together.” But I heard the lack of surety in the words, spun through their warmth. The conversation we’d had the night before, the inability to see a clear path toward a shared future, hung around us like a noose ringing our necks. I felt it tightening with each minute that passed.
