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“What?”
At the same time a cry rings out, realer than anything that should exist in this world: “Violet!”
The new voice comes from up the stairs where a tall, shadowy figure of familiar frame stands. The figure runs toward me as the dream tears and an echo of laughter withdraws from my ears.
The tower is shorn in half, vines unravel, the sky a myriadof unfathomable colors. Gasping, I stretch my hand toward the figure as they reach out with their own.
The ground beneath me gives way.
Pain bridges me between dream and waking. When I open my eyes, the world is dully hued. I’m back where I fainted, the cold lacquered floors of the divining room beneath me. Firelight dances at the edge of my gaze. The frilly cushion from the footstool is stuffed underneath my throbbing head.
And I’m not alone.
Dante is crouched on the hearth, removing a steaming kettle. His curly hair is tied back, sleeves rolled up, coat laid aside as if he’s been here for some time. When he turns around, he heaves a sigh of relief. “Thank the Fates.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Iwascoming to tell you that Raya won’t be able to make it.” He pours out the kettle in a tub and tests the temperature with a finger. “Then I came to the tower, saw the doors left wide open, and when I checked outside, you’re collapsed on the steps with blood all over you. I thought you were attacked by another beast.”
“I…tried to induce a vision.” Hazy memories return. “I thought slashing my hand…”
A groan. “What the hell were you thinking, Violet?”
“Itworked.”
He still shakes his head. “Hope it was worth it. I knowsome tasty flavors of fungus that might do the same thingwithoutthe potentially fatal blood loss.” Taking my left arm, he guides my hand over the tub and ladles warm water over the wound. I hiss as the gash on my palm stretches open.
“What do you know about Lady Raya?” I reach for the ladle myself, but he won’t let me help.
“I’ve been helping her get situated in the city. She’s…interesting.”
“You’re suspicious of her, too.”
Dante sighs, tugging at his shirt’s frilly jabot. “Relations between Auveny and Balica are fraught. I am trying to keep things down to a simmer. Have some understanding. The Head of Lunesse isn’t what I expected. She’ssupposedlya very respected leader, yet…To put it delicately, I hope the standards in Lunesse aren’t that low.”
“That bad?” I frown. “Why couldn’t she visit my tower today?”
He shrugs. “When I visited her apartment, she had some weird excuse—said her face broke out in hives. Something about a fear of heights? She was hysterical, so I dropped it. We’ve been trying to drag her out to discuss electing a new Head for Lunesse, too, if she is to remain here as queen, but some advisors think she ought to beboth,which completely breaks precedent….”
He trails off. There are hollows under his eyes; has he been handling her this entire time? Cyrus must be showing her around when he can, but at other times, I can imagine few others he would he trust his future bride with.
Dante’s closeness to this situation puts me ill at ease.But I have to tellsomeoneabout my vision. If Raya brought the beasts here, if she is the witch who Camilla and others suspect her to be, she has to be stopped.
“What are you going to be when Cyrus becomes king?” I ask.
Dante’s muttered answer is distracted. “Gray-haired, at this rate.”
“You’re doing too much work for him.”
“It’s not just for Cyrus. Ambassador Pincorn needs a hand, especially lately. It’s not as bad as I remembered—the paperwork and meetings.”
“If you’re going through that much trouble, they should make you an ambassador, too. Or Cyrus should appoint you as an adviser.” Dante’s lived in Auveny for so long, most people familiar with him in the Sun Capital consider him Auvenese. It’s only that those who treat him like an outsider are louder.
“Not officially.”
“Why not? A title will grant you respect.”
A thought seems to hesitate on his tongue. “I…It might be easier to get certain things done without an official position.”
