Page 119 of Queen of War and Ruin

My skirts swish and whisper as I turn my back on Blayne. He calls to Petrys, something about not letting that woman out of your sight, but his words are lost in the sudden flood of a dozen whispered, scandalized conversations that rush in to fill the space I just left.

They’ll be gossiping about this for months. Hells, maybe for years.

I stare at the garden doors on the far side of the ballroom, focusing all my attention on the soft darkness on the other side. A woman I dimly recognize as one of Princess Acelina’s attendants comes up to me and asks if I need anything. I shake my head, then turn back toward the doors.

They’re closing.

I freeze. Two servants pull the doors closed. I spin, turning toward the doors that lead deeper into the palace. Those doors are closing as well. The room is still filled with conversations, loud and hot, but the music has gone quiet. On the dance floor, the crowd is turning to face the dais. And the throne in the center.

Someone starts to cheer, and then applause ripples through the room, crashing against the closed doors like waves on the cliffs of Ethiria. Slowly, King Malrik climbs the steps to the dais. He waves and smiles, like a father indulging a spoiled child.

The cheering goes on for a very long time. I keep staring at the doors. All of the doors. All of them closed.

Panic closes around my throat. King Malrik makes a show of attempting to quiet the crowd, then laughs when his efforts are unsuccessful. Someone bumps my arm, jostling me as they move closer to the dais. I glance at Petrys. He nods, and we both move toward the far wall.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Malrik says, finally able to speak over the wild applause. “To Vsenrog. To all of us!”

He holds a silver goblet in the air, and another round of cheers erupts, filling the ballroom. My heart screams inside my chest. I look at Petrys, then at the closed doors, and then at the rows and rows of tall, dark windows. Could we climb out of those? How in the gods’ many names could we do that without being caught?

“And now,” Malrik says, forcing my attention back to the dais, “I have something to show you. Something incredible. Something that will change the fortunes of Vsenrog forever. That will make our mighty kingdom a legend in the scrolls of time.”

He grins, then waves at someone standing behind him. Varitan steps forward. There’s a scattering of applause, light and airy, as the tall elf raises his hands, his palms facing the crowd.

I press my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.

Chapter 61

Zarek

A CONCEPT CALLED LOYALTY

Imove slowly, keeping to the shadows and looking over my shoulder every few steps.

More than that, if I’m being honest.

I stop, press my back against the palace walls, and watch the shadows that fill the garden. The music is softer now, muted by distance and greenery. I would hear if someone was coming down the path.

I exhale slowly. No one is coming down that path. Not yet.

“Damn it,” I mutter as I tilt my head to stare at the stables.

I should be with them. Petrys was right about the dangers, but knowing that does nothing to quiet the ache in my chest. Lilias is in there, facing the son of a bitch who used her to start a war. And I’m here. Sneaking away.

“Shit,” I spit.

I hesitate for another long breath, listening to the distant music and the low hum of voices in the soft night air. Damn, I wish I had a blade. I’d rather walk around the gardens naked than disarmed.

Not that I have a fucking choice. I sigh, then continue creeping along the wall, heading for the stables. They seem quiet tonight, thank the gods. The grooms and servants who aren’t attending the ball are probably having their own party somewhere, and good for them.

The familiar sounds of equine shuffling and snorting meet me the closer I get to the stables. It’s strangely comforting; I have spent a lot of nights here, after all. And, gods, it will be good to see Alia.

I’m almost smiling when someone steps out of the shadows and into the path.

I flinch, then rock back. Moonlight glints off a blade in the man’s right hand. I glance over my shoulder. I could probably outrun this bastard. If I have to.

“Leaving without your wife?” the man says.

He tips his hood back and meets my eyes in the moonlight.