My eyes widened in understanding, and I dropped down into a deep curtsy. “Your Majesty,” I murmured, striving for a humble tone. “Please forgive my lack of etiquette. Your presence . . . overwhelmed me.”
Silence.
The servants, merchants, and nobles kept moving through the rotunda, their whispered footsteps and murmured conversations droning through the air like bees, but a dangerous silence reigned in the bubble of space around the queen, the princess, and me.
I stayed frozen in my curtsy, even though my arms and legs trembled from the effort, and sweat gathered on the back of my neck. My body was about as firm, steady, and strong as a scoop of apricot sherbet melting in the summer sun, but I gritted my teeth and held the pose.
Even worse than the continued silence and my own exhaustion was Maeven’s magic, which sizzled over me in hot, electric waves, as though I were swimming in a sea of lightning. The Mortan queen was one of the most powerful magiers on the Buchovian continent, and the tingling in my fingertips intensified to an almost painful level, while more sweat pricked the back of my neck.
“Rise,” Maeven finally commanded.
I shot to my feet and clasped my hands together, trying to strike an attentive but submissive pose. I also plastered a smile on my face, as though I were absolutely thrilled to be the subject of the queen’s attention, and not worried she was going to order the guards to murder me.
Maeven’s gaze roamed over my clothes before settling on my face again. Not a flicker of emotion crossed her features, and I couldn’t tell what she thought of me.
“Who are you?” she asked, a demanding note in her low, silky voice.
An excellent question. I drew in a breath, trying to think of a lie that would please the mercurial queen—
“Lady Armina!” a familiar voice called out. “There you are!”
Leonidas strode across the rotunda and stopped by my side. He was once again bundled up from head to toe in a long black cloak over an equally long black coat, while gloves covered his hands.
Relief coursed through me, along with an equal amount of wariness. He wasn’t summoning the guards to have me thrown in the dungeon—or executed—but I was far from safe.
“Leonidas,” Maeven said, her voice much warmer than before. “I didn’t expect you to return from Ravensrock so soon.”
Her words were perfectly pleasant, but a faint, chiding tone rippled through them, as if he’d somehow displeased her.
Leonidas dipped his head in apology. “Of course I returned. I would never miss your birthday.”
He smiled, stepped forward, and kissed his mother’s cheeks. Maeven stood there and accepted his affections, her face still poised in that blank mask.
Leonidas turned to Delmira, who surged forward and kissed his cheeks. Then she reached out and clasped his hands in hers, smiling wide.
“It’s so wonderful to have you home!” she said, her voice as light and pleasant as wind chimes tinkling together.
The warmth of her love for him gusted over me, but it didn’t melt any of my own icy unease.
Leonidas returned Delmira’s smile with a genuine one of his own. “It’s good to be back.”
Delmira dropped his hands and focused on me. “And who is this?”
Leonidas stepped to the side, putting himself in between me and Maeven. “This is Lady Armina, a jeweler and metalstone master from Ravensrock. Lady Armina was being waylaid by bandits who were trying to steal the precious gems she had bought in Majesta and was taking home to Ravensrock. I dispatched the bandits, with Lyra’s help, but Lady Armina was injured in the fight, so I brought her to the palace to be healed.”
The smooth lies spewed from his lips one after another, and he put just the right amount of sympathy into his voice. If I hadn’t known better, even I would have believed him. I hadn’t been waylaid by bandits, though. Just a very charming, clever, duplicitous prince.
“Oh! How awful!” Delmira clasped her hands to her heart. “Lady Armina, I hope you’re all right now.”
I dipped into another curtsy, although this one was much shallower than the one I’d given to Maeven. “Thank you. I am feeling much better, Your Highness.”
Delmira waved her hand. “I’ve never cared much for formalities. Please. Call me Delmira. Everyone does.”
I doubted that, but she was the princess here, not me, and I had to cede to her request. “As you wish . . . Delmira.”
Maeven stepped forward, staring at me again. “Lady Armina, you must stay at the palace until you’re fully recovered,” she purred. “I insist on it.”
Stay at the palace? That was the very last thing I wanted to do, but Lady Armina could hardly argue with her supposed queen, so I bowed my head. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I would be honored.”
“And, of course, you must attend all the festivities,” Maeven continued.
Festivities? Then I remembered what Leonidas had said. “I’m sure the events surrounding your birthday will be a wonderful treat.”
“Mmm. Yes. A treat.” Her benign words didn’t match her dry tone. “While you’re here, you will have to make something for my daughter and me. It’s been quite a while since we’ve commissioned pieces from an unknown jeweler.”
Maeven kept staring at me, an expectant look on her face, and I forced myself to smile wide, as though I were absolutely delighted at the command. Getting a commission from a queen could boost a jeweler’s business to incredible new heights.
“Of course!” I made my voice as light and happy as I could. “Thank you for such a wonderful opportunity!”
Maeven’s lips quirked into a small, amused smile, but she waved her hand, as though her benevolence was nothing of importance. Then she focused on Leonidas again. “You must join Delmira and me for dinner tonight. Your brother and his betrothed will also be there.” Once again, her benign words didn’t match her dry, caustic tone.
A few months ago, an engagement had been announced between Crown Prince Milo Morricone and Lady Corvina Dumond, and the news had set tongues a-wagging in the Glitnir court. The Mortans might be our enemies, but a royal wedding was always a source of rampant speculation, gossip, and envy, before, during, and after the festivities.
Leonidas dipped his head. “Of course.”
Maeven waved her hand again, dismissing his words just as she had mine. Then her gaze zoomed back over to me, much more intense and critical than before, as though she were silently cataloguing, critiquing, and calculating my worth.
I stood absolutely still, scarcely daring to breathe. Leonidas and Delmira might not have recognized me, but there was a very real chance Maeven would. After all, she utterly despised my family, so I imagined that she was as familiar with me as I was with her.
“Lady Armina,” Maeven purred again, as though the most marvelous thought had just occurred to her. “You must also come to dinner tonight. As my special guest. I’m sure we can find a seat for you at my table.”
Worry spiked through me. Running into the queen in the palace was one thing, but actually sitting across from her at a dining table for hours on end was another.
I dipped into yet another curtsy, giving myself a few seconds to think, before slowly rising. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I was not expecting such a high honor. I’m afraid that all my garments were ruined in the bandit attack, and I wouldn’t want to disgrace your table by wearing something less than worthy.” I put a high, nervous stammer into my voice, as though I were both disappointed that I couldn’t attend the event and terrified of contradicting the queen.
If I couldn’t escape from the palace before dinner, then I needed some reason not to attend. The less that Maeven saw of me, the better.
Yet again, Maeven waved her hand, dismissing my weak excuses. “Oh, I’m sure Delmira can find you something to wear. We so rarely get visitors from Ravensrock that I would be remiss if I didn’t offer you a seat at my table.” A thin smile curved her lips. “Besides, I insist.”
And just like that, I was
trapped. I couldn’t refuse now, not without making her even more suspicious, so I dipped into yet another curtsy. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I will be honored to dine at your table.”
“Until tonight, Lady Armina.” Maeven eyed me a second longer, then swept past me.
Chapter Thirteen
Maeven strode across the rotunda and vanished through an archway. Her heels snap-snap-snap-snapped against the floor again, although the sound quickly faded away. So did the feel of her magic, and my fingertips finally stopped tingling.
The storm had blown right on by me, and I hadn’t been struck by its lightning—yet.
The guards, servants, merchants, and nobles all visibly relaxed, and everyone moved and spoke at a more normal pace and volume again. Leonidas, Delmira, and I remained in the center of the rotunda.
Delmira gave me another sunny smile. “Mother’s right. I can find something for you to wear to dinner. Let me speak to my thread master, and I’ll have some things sent to my chambers. You can visit me there this afternoon, after you’ve had a chance to eat and rest. I’ll send a servant to fetch you.”
I planned to be long gone by then, but I couldn’t refuse her offer any more than I’d been able to refuse Maeven’s order. “Thank you, Your Highness—”
She shot me a warning look.
“Thank you, Delmira.”
The princess smiled at me again, then glided off, the gauzy layers of her lilac dress seeming as thin and fragile as butterfly wings trailing along behind her. That left me alone with Leonidas.
“Lady Armina.” He offered me his arm. “You must be famished after your ordeal. Please allow me to escort you to breakfast.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” I threaded my arm through his, trying not to notice the coiled strength in his muscles.
Leonidas steered me through one of the archways and down a hallway. As we walked along, he played the part of the perfect host, pointing out the paintings and tapestries decorating the walls, along with the historic sculptures, books, and weapons tucked away in various nooks and alcoves.
Our journey did not go unnoticed. Several nobles and merchants were moving through the same hallway, and they all nodded respectfully as Leonidas led me past them. None of them said anything, but I could still hear their thoughts.
Who’s that with the prince . . .
She’s not even wearing a proper gown . . .
Why is she wasting her time on him? He’ll never be king. Leonidas will be lucky if he makes it to yuletide without being murdered by Milo . . .
Leonidas grimaced, as if he too had heard that last snide thought.
I eyed the prince, wondering why Milo, his own brother, wanted to murder him. Still, the news didn’t surprise me. The Morricones weren’t known to be a particularly loving family, and I’d heard more than one rumor that Milo was even more ruthless than Queen Maeven.
Leonidas led me up the stairs and back into the wing where I’d first woken up. More people roamed through the halls than before, servants mostly, going about their chores, but this part of the palace still seemed largely, strangely empty.
We reached a pair of double doors. Leonidas waved his hand, and the doors unlocked and opened. He led me inside. “This is my personal library.”
The library was housed in a square tower that rose up three stories. To my right, several dark purple velvet settees and chairs flanked an enormous fireplace that took up the entire wall. Flames crackled merrily behind the iron grate, driving away some of the chill that permeated this wing of the palace.
To my left, ebony bookcases stretched up to the ceiling. Books filled the shelves, along with maps, statues, and other odds and ends. An ebony writing desk covered with more books, stacks of papers, black feather pens, and pots of purple ink squatted in the back of the room. Behind the desk, glass doors were set into the wall, showing a glimpse of a courtyard below—the same courtyard that my chambers overlooked.
“Your library is lovely,” I said, and meant it. “Warm and cozy and perfectly cluttered.”
A rare, genuine smile creased Leonidas’s face, softening his angular features and making him look far more relaxed—and much more handsome—than usual. I resisted the urge to return his smile. Instead, I untangled my arm from his and went over to the fireplace, putting some distance between us.
I scanned the mantel, but no swords adorned it, so I dropped my gaze, looking for a poker or something else I might use as a weapon, along with the dagger in my boot, should the need arise. Sadly, I didn’t see anything like that, although the fireplace itself was quite unusual.
At first glance, it seemed to be made of gleaming onyx, but then I realized that vines of liladorn had punched through the gray stone and curled around the fireplace, like fingers stretching out in search of warmth. The way the vines and their long black thorns curved made it seem as though the liladorn was supporting the wall, instead of the other way around.
I trailed my fingers over one of the vines, which was as smooth and slick as glass, yet rock-hard and strangely flexible at the same time, just like Grimley’s skin. Curious. I would have to ask Helene what she knew about liladorn when I returned to Glitnir.
If I returned to Glitnir.
Footsteps scuffed, and servants streamed into the library, carrying everything from linens to silverware to crystal carafes filled with fruit juices. The servants bustled over to a table close to the fireplace and deposited their items with quick, practiced efficiency. They retreated, and another wave of servants entered, carrying platters of food. In less than two minutes, the servants had laid out a feast fit for a prince.
“Lady Armina, given your ordeal over the past few days, I thought you might enjoy a quiet breakfast,” Leonidas said.
“Exactly how long have I been convalescing in Myrkvior?” I asked. “Everything is a bit of a blur.”
“I came across you on the afternoon of the twenty-third. We arrived at the palace late last night, and it is now the morning of the twenty-fifth.”
So I had been down in the mine for roughly half a day before he had rescued me, and I had been unconscious for more than an entire day after that. Topacia would have immediately alerted my father and grandfather that Leonidas had spirited me away from Blauberg. They all had to be worried sick, but I couldn’t do anything about that right now.
“You must be hungry,” Leonidas continued. “So I had the servants prepare extras of everything.”
He seemed determined to maintain his lies about who I was and what I was doing here, so I decided to play along. Since he had referred to me by my fake name and title, I dipped into a shallow curtsy before rising and addressing him.
“How thoughtful. Thank you, Your Highness.”
Leonidas smirked at my snide tone, as though my petulance amused him. “Oh, Lady Armina. There’s no need to stand on formality. Please call me Leonidas.” He gestured at the table. “Let us eat.”
Once again, I had no choice but to do as commanded. Leonidas pulled out a chair, and I dropped into it, grateful to sit down, since I was still tired. He moved around the table and took the seat across from mine.
Leonidas nodded at the servants. “Thank you. That will be all.”
The servants left the library. One of them pulled the doors shut behind her, leaving me alone with the prince. Leonidas tilted his head to the side, and his eyes narrowed, as though he was using his magic to make sure that the servants had really retreated.
“I hope you like blackberry pancakes,” he said, shaking his head in warning. “They are one of my favorites.”
His voice wasn’t any louder than normal, although he was clearly putting on a show for whoever was lurking out in the hallway.
“Of course,” I replied, matching his fake politeness. “I’m quite famished after my long journey from Ravensrock and especially my ordeal with those horrible bandits.”
Leonidas arched an eyebrow at my sarcastic emphasis, but he gestured at the platters of food. “Then please eat.”
&n
bsp; My mouth watered, and my stomach rumbled even more loudly than Grimley’s did whenever he waxed poetic about plump wild turkeys. I piled a plate high with the aforementioned blackberry pancakes, along with smoked sausages, fried potatoes, fresh fruit, and cheeses. My stomach kept rumbling, demanding food, but I waited until Leonidas had taken a bite of everything to make sure that the dishes weren’t poisoned. When he didn’t keel over, I started eating.
Light, airy pancakes stuffed with tart blackberries. Hearty sausages seasoned with sage. Golden brown potatoes sprinkled with dill. I quickly polished off that plate of food and ate another one, and gulped down three glasses of a sweet cranberry-apple punch with a refreshing zing of lemon.
Leonidas stopped eating after just one plate, but I kept chewing, working on my third serving of everything. While I ate, he talked about inane things. The food, the weather, the Mortan gladiator troupes and their popular fighters. All the usual things one would chitchat about over breakfast. I made the appropriate grunts when called upon, but I mostly concentrated on shoveling food into my mouth. My body needed fuel to finish recovering from the injuries I’d sustained in the mine, and I didn’t know when I might get another chance to eat.
I was wondering if I could stuff another pancake into my stomach when Leonidas pushed back from the table. My hand tightened around my fork, but he merely went over and grabbed a long purple riding coat from a rack in the corner. He returned and held the garment out to me.
“May I?” he murmured.
I eyed him with suspicion, but he didn’t seem to be up to anything nefarious, and I didn’t sense any magic or poison emanating from the garment, so I released my fork, stood up, and reluctantly turned my back to him. Leonidas slipped the coat onto my arms. His warm breath brushed up against my cheek, and a ribbon of heat unspooled in my stomach.
I stepped away from him and buttoned up the coat, which was similar to his black one, although it was obviously made for a woman. I wondered why it was in his library—and who might have worn it before me.
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