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“Sutherland Hargrove,” my uncle states proudly. He holds his chin up as if it will make him look more important while the soldier runs his finger down a clipboard list.
“You’re not on here,” he says. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you in.”
“Impossible,” my uncle retorts. He pulls an invitation from the pocket of his cloak. “We were invited.”
He hands the paper over to the soldier, who skims over it, his face wrinkling with confusion. “Be that as it may, sir, the only people allowed inside are the ones who were vetted, and you were not.”
“Preposterous!” Sutherland shouts, drawing eyes to us from beyond the castle gates and the party around us. “I demand to speak to your superior.”
Even though the Culling is held within the Palace walls, the city outside is booming with life. There’s music, food, and dancing. People drink and talk about their travels, coming from all ends of Arcane to meet their new queen.
“Sir,” the second guard on duty says more forcefully. “If you’ll kindly step aside.”
I look past him to the people gathered in the courtyard and spot a familiar face.
“Riot!” I shout, catching the attention of the soldier from last night. I wave, and his brows knit together. He stills in his steps as I call his name again, “Riot, come here!”
I step forward, and the soldier with the clipboard grabs me by the arm. “Miss, you can’t go in there.”
“I suggest you let go of me before you make a mistake. You see that man there?” I make a show to point to Riot, who’s looking at me curiously.
“The prince’s guard. You know him?” the soldier asks.
“I do. Escort me if you must, but I will speak to him,” I demand.
Knowing he can’t leave his post, the soldier is quiet for a beat. He glances at the other guy and says, “You have two minutes.”
I nod and run past both guards to Riot who, apparently, is the prince’s guard. “I need your help.”
“What are you doing here?” he demands. If I thought Riot hated me last night, the way he’s looking at me now suggests my presence here is worse than me being in Tarrish.
“We have an invitation, but we can’t get in.”
Riot looks from me to my uncle and then says, “That’s for the best.”
“No, it’s not. I told you last night.” I drop my voice to a whisper. “I’m not leaving without Ezra. You want me out of your hair; he’s coming, too.”
Riot’s nose wrinkles when he asks, “Why would I help you?”
“Because I’m keeping your secrets, and even if they’re not yours, they’re Bash’s. Don’t force me to do something I don’t want to do.”
“Like you’re forcing me?”
I sigh because he’s right, but what choice do I have? I need inside these walls, and getting arrested might get me in, but I’ll be behind bars. I need freedom to roam the halls and to search for Ezra. Entering myself into the Culling is the only way I’ll have that freedom. “Get me past the guards, and I won’t ask you for anything else.
“Right,” Riot huffs disbelievingly, but he escorts me back to the front gate.
“Sir,” the soldier says, looking past me. “Do you know them?”
I cross my arms and act appalled at the implication that I’m lying. “He hand-delivered our invitation. Of course he knows me.”
“Let them pass,” Riot orders, and the soldiers nod.
Sage links her arm and mine, a girlish giggle bubbling in her throat as we cross into the courtyard. “You know the prince’s guard?”
“Later,” I whisper and turn my attention to my uncle. “It’s a fake, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sutherland insists. He waves at one of the Lords as we enter, but the man ignores our existence. We pass through the crowd, not a soul recognizing our faces or stopping us to say hello.
