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“You asked to be of service. I’m not certain which color will send the right message. Blue for Nyxar? Or red for Allea, in a sign of welcome?”
I’m pushing his buttons, which isn’t kind, but I don’t know a better way to make him drop the subject.
“Well,say something.” He’s not addressing me now—his tone shows a lot more impatience.
The tiny wisp of a woman still perched up on top of the banister tilts her head. “Why would I? The king has spoken.”
Silver loves nothing more than to get on Vessorian’s nerves, though if she and I were alone, she’d also probe, but annoying him is more valuable to her than knowing what I have planned. One day, they’ll stop arguing, and may the old gods help anyone within hearing range of them when they tear each other’s clothes off.For now, Vess would likely prefer to swallow a nest of wasps than admit to his attraction.
“The king is either possessed, suicidal, or both!”
I chuckle, before turning on my heels to return to my chamber. I commanded the guests to present themselves to me tonight. A few hours until the first night of this farce of a revel starts.
Foe. Friend. Liar. Lover. Murderer. You will find them all on the first night of autumn, if you dare throw the revel your forefathers started. And this war will come to a close before it’s even started.
I know enough of prophecies to realize this one is as vague and unhelpful as dear Mother could make it, but I have to try all the same.
4
RHEA
The nine-day journey north to Starfall, deep in the inner territories, was eerily uneventful.
According to my flawless new identification, I am Lady Rhea Tavernon—an old name with far too many heirs for anyone to know all of them. Sorsha’s my companion; Vern, my maid; Alrion, a knight in my family’s employ; and Kriss, our coachman.
We have a real invitation, provided to us by the king himself, so we’ve passed each checkpoint without anyone so much as looking into our trunk. Not that they would have found much, short of full body searches. We’re not dumb enough to carry anything too obvious. We have knives and swords, of course, but who doesn’t? Traveling is dangerous. The poisonous blooms, the extracts of venoms, the kit Alrion uses to get into locked doors, and the explosive powders Sorsha couldn’t survive without are sewn into secret compartments inside our clothing, our shoes, and our cosmetics boxes.
We journey in comfort the likes of which I’ve rarely known on the road. The carriage is large and well appointed, with stuffed cushions and insulation. Is this how the rich usually travel? I finally think I understand people’s fascination with money. If it buys comfort, I’m not as indifferent to it as I believed myself to be.
The most thorough search happened at the gate of the dark city the god of shade once called home, now inhabited by the king responsible for murdering my village, and Sorsha’s, and Doplov’s, and so many others’.
I’ve never heard what the monster has done to Alrion, but if he became a spy, there must have been a reason. He didn’t volunteer the information and I didn’t want to push. We all have painful pasts. I barely talk of mine, so I’m not about to force him to share his before he’s ready.We’ve grown to become close friends, despite that. I think sometimes that he’s on the verge of telling me something personal, but he never gets it out.
They rifled through our clothes before waving us through, and we cross the impressive icy walls surrounding Starfalls.
“Have you seen their eyes?” Sorsha whispers.
I nod.“And their ears. Many of them have pointed ones.”
In the last days, we’ve traded day for night. The folk of the north have luminous eyes, flashing in the dark, evolved to see in their eternally sunless land. That means we can’t count shadows as allies here, though they’re usually essential to spy craft—or murder.
For all that, Nyxar isn’t dark.
Starfall is more beautiful, grander, larger than I ever expected it to be. Oh, it’s obscure enough, with its evernight, its endless high walls shaped like black spikes, so smooth they seem to be made of glass, but each of the buildings reflects the light of the moon and bright stars. The streets of the city are also lit by dim bluish stones.
There is a strange appeal to it, for all it’s not comfortable. I am drawn to it like to the edge of a deep precipice.
Kriss drives us as instructed, to the gates of the largest cluster of spikes they call houses in this place. By its sheer size, this one must be a castle.
If the king wishes to intimidate his guests, he’s certainly managed that.
I don’t like shedding half of my companions at the gates, but I must. Alrion guides us inside, Sorsha silent at my side, and the two others continue to park the carriage wherever the servants are supposed to go.
The castle is no less impressive, and as scary within as it was without. The high ceiling is illuminated by a constellation of jewels shining like dim stars on vaulted walls.Each black column is assiduously carved, telling a story, in different styles and encrusted with stones.Never have I beheld anything so grandiose. I’m quite humbled by it all, even if the beauty is cold, with a dangerous edge.
Alrion hands our invitation to the attendees, and is directed through halls, each grander than the last, until we’ve ascended four flights of stairs and reached our quarters, the rooms large, rich, and welcoming.
By the time we’ve arrived, Vern’s already here, busying herself by unpacking my trunk, like she’s nothing but an obedient servant.
