Page 117 of Queen of War and Ruin

“No,” Petrys replies. “You go in there, and you’re a dead man. And is that any way to repay your wife for rescuing your sorry ass?”

Petrys smiles, but his eyes are hard. Zarek scowls, then shakes his head as he pulls away from his brother.

“I’ll be with her the whole time,” Petrys says.

“The longer we can go without raising an alarm, the better, right?” I offer, in a sad mimicry of Petrys.

Zarek raises his hands in front of his chest, like he’s surrendering.

“Half an hour,” Zarek finally says. “And then I’m coming back for you.”

Petrys reaches forward, taking Zarek’s hand in both of his like they’re coming to the end of a business agreement.

“We’ll be there,” Petrys says. “Tell Alia to have the horses ready.”

Zarek turns and meets my gaze. I stare at him in the darkness as the music of the victory ball swells all around us. Then Petrys reaches forward and claps Zarek on the shoulder.

“Go, you idiot,” he growls.

Zarek vanishes into the shadows. And I turn toward the light.

Chapter 60

Lilias

MARRIED TO A PRINCE

“Hold on a minute,” Petrys says.

He steps into the shadows behind the big fountain with the little fox on top, and I follow him.

“Your hair is a disaster,” Petrys whispers with a frown.

“Sorry,” I stammer as my cheeks burn. “We, uh⁠—”

“I don’t even want to know,” Petrys replies.

He steps closer to me, then begins tugging on strands of hair. I clench my jaw as he does whatever it is he’s doing to the elaborate hairstyle Doloros gave me. It seems to take a long time. Finally, he steps back, frowns, and shrugs.

“Good enough,” he says.

“Great,” I mutter. “Now I feel really confident.”

Petrys steps into the light. “I’ll follow you,” he says. “My lady.”

My heart screams inside my chest as I walk toward the open doors of the ballroom. It’s a beautiful summer evening, and the night air is soft and cool against my skin. Music and laughter float through the doors. They’ve hung lanterns in the garden outside the ballroom, and their soft, golden light dances across the sparkles on my dress. I try to smile like this is all normal, like my cheeks aren’t flushed and my hair isn’t a wreck.

Like the man I love isn’t escaping the palace right now.

I step through the door, smiling at everything and nothing. The ballroom is hot, and the air is heavy with perfume and the deeper tang of sweaty human bodies. The music is louder now, and the laughter feels wilder. My hands twist together at my waist. This dress is heavy and hot, and far too tight across my chest. I feel like I can’t breathe.

I’ll just walk across the room, I decide, and skirt the dance floor. I just need to be seen. I nod politely at the flood of people I barely recognize and fight the urge to glance over my shoulder with every step, to make sure Petrys is still here.

Halfway through the room, I glance at the dark windows, but they only show the distorted reflection of the ballroom, dancers and musicians, elegant dresses and expensive wine. I glance down at my hands, then back at the far side of the room.

Has Zarek made it to the stables? Is Alia there? Are the horses⁠—

Someone grabs my arm. I choke back my scream as they twist me around so violently I almost trip.