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He moves past us and guides Raya into the party. I want to talk to Raya, but so does everyone else. For now, I follow Camilla as she mingles among others.
But my attention splits. As I move from social circle to social circle, no matter what the conversation is like, I can’t help but overhear Cyrus elsewhere, his laughter echoing across the atrium.
“If I could, I would have chosen every one of you to be my bride,” I hear him say not far behind me. Even engaged, the prince has time to flirt.
If we were children still, I’d shove my head through the wall of lilacs dividing us and make a ghastly face to scare the party. For the longest time, I wanted to grow up and be taken seriously. But now that Iamgrown—all my height and teeth accounted for—I miss being reckless without care. It’s not as if I want to be in these crowds fake-laughing at some lordling’s terrible joke.
Though sometimes I wish I did. Iwantto want to be in this crowd. Everything would be simpler if I didn’t know what I know, didn’t think what I think, and I could justbe like everyone else.
I’d hate that version of me.
Then again, if that were me, I wouldn’t even know to hate myself.
That Violet would be grateful to have the Sight and grateful to have a place in the palace.
That Violet would be, well,happy.
The next circle Camilla drags me into is a mix of older ladies. Camilla flaunts her blood necklace, pulling empty ones from her purse to give to those who inquire. “Personally,” the princess asserts, leaning in, “I think our use of fairies has gone too far. Consider: Lady Raya’s fairies seemed to have skipped blessing her today, and the difference is utterly striking.” The group titters. “I want nothing more than for my brother to find love, but to pin our hopes on a possible charlatan…”
Opposite us, a red-shawled woman cups her hand around her mouth. “I doubt anyone but Belina and I remember, but forty years ago, when I was a lass, fairies were considered a foe of the Fates. No one tells the tales like this anymore, but blood and fairy magic don’t mix for good reason. Our blood is the Fates’ dominion and they don’t take kindly to magical meddling. It diverts destiny from its true course!”
Another who I recognize as the prim Lady Herina of the Fourth Dominion harrumphs. “We would do well to have some faith and hold our slander for when we have evidence.”
“Slander?” Camilla barks a laugh. “Raya made a sudden trip across the continent, alone and without notice, wearing five fairies’ worth of glamour. That’s not slander. It’sstrange.” For how temperamental she can be, the princessalways chooses her words with care, knowing when to pin pleasantries and when to drive her points down like a fist.
“TheFatesare strange, Your Highness. And they are hungry.” Herina stabs a finger in the air. “There hasn’t been a good tale in ages—odd curses and blessings, yes, but when was the last time real drama has swept the lands? His Highness’s true love, a prophecy breaker, must be one of a kind. It only stands that she isn’t like what we see every day. We have forgotten what strangeness truly is. Ah, Sighted Mistress—”
Herina steps toward me with open hands. I don’t remember her being awful—she’s always polite during readings and is reputed to have gained more wisdom than complacency over her management of the Fourth Dominion’s financials—but I don’t like the way she’s looking at me, as if she found an answer. “We are living in times where destiny is in the making. Beasts walk among us. True love bespells us. What say you of Auveny’s future?”
I’m used to acting as if I know less than I do, greeting patrons as if I haven’t seen bits of their future in other readings, or making up excuses if my prophecies don’t match reality. “I’ve dreamed conflicting accounts,” I say judiciously. “We should temper our expectations about Lady Raya being any kind of savior. The future rests upon the decision of Prince Cyrus’s heart, and he isfickle.” I stress the word more than I mean to, but no one seems to catch it as they discuss among themselves.
“I admit, His Highness does not look like a man in love,” someone says.
“Will it matter? Felicita’s prophecy mentioned only abride.”
“No, no, the prophecy mentioned his heart, too, don’t forget….”
“Herina speaks true. As they say, there is no destiny without blood.”
“Fairy enchantments bewitched him. Perhaps now he is regretting…”
“Why, he has looked this way more than he has looked at Lady Raya.”
I glance up. Sure enough, Cyrus has turned his gaze in our direction—at me, if I want to be vain and precise. The blandest smile touches his lips, a polite acknowledgment of our group, but I feel the trace of his stare follow mine, lingering on my throat where the choker rests. My skin prickles, warm.
It’s just the magic drawing his eye.
But the moment lends me a boldness. Enough tiptoeing around. “Why don’t I perform a reading for Lady Raya right now?” I say. “I didn’t get the chance to yet.”
Camilla lets out a delighted whoop, clapping. “That’s a brilliant idea. Raya!” She beckons with a frantic hand, drawing the attention of the entire room. “You must have a reading done by our Seer while she’s free. She’s been very in demand.”
In a matter of seconds, the princess commands the servants to set up a table by the fountain, complete with decorative candles and a clean lace cloth on top. Raya, holding on to her veil, is hustled into a chair. Gaze darting around, she looks like a gopher that’s popped out of the ground to find itself in a wolf’s den.
I take a seat across from her. “I’ll need your hands, LadyRaya—er, just one.” I extend my right hand. “Injured my other.”
“Right. Of course,” she answers in a tremulous voice. The first thing I notice, as her palm meets mine, is that her hand is calloused. Her bangles are cold as they slide against my fingertips.
And then I can only think of the images rushing through my Sight:
