“Well, if you need any help . . .”
“I won’t.” Reiko eyed me. “What name are you using?”
“Lady Armina, a Mortan noble from Ravensrock who was waylaid by bandits and rescued by Prince Leonidas.”
“He even had to save you in your cover story. How sad.”
My teeth ground together, and my hands fisted in my skirt. With those sorts of catty comments, she should have been a panther morph instead of a bloody dragon.
“I wonder what Prince Leo would say if he realized exactly who he had brought to Myrkvior.” Reiko frowned. “Why did he bring you here? I can understand saving your life in the mine. Unlike some of his other relatives, Leonidas actually seems to have a modicum of honor and common decency. But why not leave you in Blauberg? Why haul you all the way to the palace?”
I still didn’t know. Oh, I could have said that Leonidas had brought me to the palace to be properly, fully healed, but that didn’t feel like a satisfactory answer to my own suspicious mind.
Reiko was right. Leonidas had risked a lot to save me from the mine, and he had gambled even more by bringing me to Myrkvior. Perhaps he had only saved me to use me for his own ends. Perhaps he was playing some Bellonan long game that I hadn’t picked up on yet. The idea hurt my wary heart far more than I cared to admit.
I focused on the dragon morph again. “My offer remains the same. We should work together. That’s the best way for us to get to the bottom of things—and not get executed. I adore being a pampered princess, and I plan to return to it after this is over.”
Reiko and her inner dragon both studied me. I reached out, trying to skim their thoughts, but their whispers were as silent as smoke curling through the air, and I couldn’t hear any of their musings. Not surprising, given their combined morph magic.
Her gaze flicked past me, and she dropped into a curtsy.
Delmira stepped up beside me. “Lady Reiko! I’m so glad you were able to come to dinner.”
Reiko straightened. “It was an honor to be invited, Your Highness.”
Delmira beamed at the other woman, then glanced at me. “Lady Reiko recently arrived at the palace. In addition to being a metalstone master, she also has an exquisite singing voice. She was kind enough to give me a private recital this morning, as well as entertain the nobles this afternoon.”
“Did she now,” I murmured, staring at the spy.
Reiko stared right back at me. Delmira kept smiling, not seeming to pick up on the tension between the two of us.
A series of bells chimed, signaling that the dinner was about to begin.
Delmira touched my arm. “Come, Armina. I’ve made arrangements for you to sit at the main table with me and Leo.” She gave me a conspiratorial wink.
I bit back a groan at her obvious matchmaking attempt. I would much rather sit at a remote table with some lesser nobles and merchants, but Delmira had other ideas.
“Of course. Thank you, Your Highness.”
Delmira winked at me again. “You’re welcome.” She looked over at Reiko. “I tried to secure a seat for you as well, but there was only one extra chair at the table.”
Surprise flashed across Reiko’s face. She might have performed for Delmira, but apparently she hadn’t realized that the princess had paid that much attention to her. But I was starting to think Delmira Morricone was far more than just a pretty face. She would have to be, in order to survive in Myrkvior, and especially among the rest of the Morricones, for any length of time.
“You and Armina must join me for breakfast tomorrow,” Delmira continued. “I haven’t had a chance to see either one of your jewelry designs yet.”
Reiko bowed her head. “Thank you, Your Highness. I would be honored.”
The princess waved her hand. “Please. I’ve told you both to call me Delmira.”
“Yes, Delmira,” Reiko and I said in unison.
She beamed at both of us again. “Excellent! Reiko, I’ll see you at breakfast. Armina, follow me, please.”
She headed toward the center table.
“Enjoy the spotlight, Lady Armina,” Reiko murmured. “But don’t be surprised if the bright glare burns you alive.”
She smirked at me, as did her inner dragon, then glided away.
I grimaced, hoping her words weren’t a terrible omen and that I could find some way to track down the tearstone and escape from the palace before all my secrets were exposed.
Chapter Seventeen
Delmira waved at me, and I had no choice but to join her at the main, center table. I was hoping she might be seated in the middle, among the less important people, but no such luck. She was at the head of the table, right next to where the queen would be. Delmira slipped into her seat, then gestured at the one next to her. I reluctantly stepped forward, but before I could grab the chair, a hand took hold of the seat and pulled it out.
“Allow me,” a low voice murmured.
My head snapped up, and a delicious chill swept down my spine.
Leonidas was here.
The prince had dressed for dinner in a short, formal lilac-colored jacket trimmed with silver buttons stamped with flying strixes. The Morricone crest was done in silver thread on his jacket, and the symbol was situated right over his heart, like a bull’s-eye telling an archer where to aim. His black hair gleamed, the wavy locks looking almost like onyx-tipped feathers, and he once again smelled faintly of honeysuckle, probably from the soap he used. The intoxicating scent made my head spin and my stomach clench.
This morning, when he had been wearing his black cloak and riding coat, Leonidas had looked like a knight out of some old fairy tale—strong, dark, fierce, powerful. But tonight, he was every inch the handsome, charming, polished, debonair prince. Both versions were far more appealing than I had expected.
“Lady Armina,” Leonidas said, his voice as smooth as velvet sliding across my skin. “Please, allow me.”
Delmira was watching us with great interest, as were the other people at the table, so I smiled, stepped forward, and dropped into the seat, as though I were absolutely thrilled to be the focus of the prince’s attention.
Leonidas drew his hands away from the chair, although his fingertips trailed along my back as he stepped to the side and took the seat next to mine. He wasn’t wearing his usual gloves, and the heat of his skin scorched through my dress. I didn’t know if it was accidental or not, but the light touch made another chill sweep down my spine.
Leonidas looked at me. “Have you enjoyed your time in the palace today?”
“Oh, it’s been lovely, Your Highness,” I replied in an equally smooth voice, aware of the other people still watching us.
No thanks to you, I silently grumbled. Delmira made me try on more than a dozen dresses before she let me pick one to wear.
His eyes sparkled with mischief, and his lips quirked up into a small smile, both of which I found ridiculously attractive. Oh, I knew that you could handle yourself, even when faced with my sister’s rampant love of fashion.
I would have kept silently grumbling to him, but a flutter of movement caught my eye, and I spotted Reiko at a table about thirty feet away. She had chosen a seat directly in my line of sight. The dragon morph toasted me with her goblet, then started talking to the man next to her.
A trumpet blared out a series of loud, boisterous notes, drowning out the chatter. The trumpet trailed off, and everyone fell deathly quiet. In the distance, a man cleared his throat.
“Announcing Her Royal Majesty, Queen Maeven Aella Toril Morricone!” the man’s voice boomed out, each word louder than a thunderclap.
Everyone pushed back from their tables and shot to their feet. I did the same, as did Delmira and Leonidas on either side of me.
Delmira leaned past me and looked at her brother. “Where is Milo?”
My gaze flicked to the two conspicuously empty chairs across the table from Delmira and me. The crown prince should have arrived before the queen, as protocol dictated, but he was nowhere in sight
.
“Where is he?” Delmira managed to hiss the words while still keeping a smile fixed on her face. An impressive feat, even for a princess.
Leonidas shrugged, as if he didn’t know, but worry filled his face. Delmira leaned back, her smile even tighter than before, as though she were grinding her teeth to hold it in place.
The last echoes of the man’s voice faded away, and silence descended over the throne room again. No one moved or spoke, and a faint noise rang out—the same snap-snap-snap-snap of heels striking the floor I’d heard in the rotunda this morning. The steady rhythm filled me with dread, but there was no escape.
Not from the queen.
Maeven strode into view, her head held high, and her gaze fixed straight ahead. The white light from the fluorestone chandeliers brought out the sharp, angular planes of her face while softening the fine lines around her eyes and the deeper wrinkles around her mouth. Maeven had shed her simpler day clothes for a stunning silk gown that was such a dark purple it almost looked black. The same shade of berry balm stained her lips.
The streaks of silver in her hair had been braided, like marks of honor, and then sleeked back into the rest of her golden bun. A modest amethyst-and-diamond crown was perched on her head, while silver bracelets studded with amethysts were stacked up on her wrists. Matching rings glittered on her fingers, and a large, square amethyst almost as big as my palm hung from a silver chain around her neck.
The jewels were filled with Maeven’s lightning magic, and the collective treasure trove of power made my fingertips tingle even more violently than they had this morning, as though I were continuously getting static-shocked. Curious that Maeven would wear so many gems filled with so much magic to a formal dinner.
Maeven strode to the head of the table, and a servant pulled out her chair. Instead of sitting down, the queen looked out over the sea of people. She glanced at Delmira first, then Leonidas, and nodded to them. Her gaze skittered across the table to the two empty seats, but she quickly moved on, as though the spaces were of no importance, even though it was a glaring oversight and a highly insulting bit of protocol.
Then Maeven focused on me. Her sharp, critical gaze trailed down my dress before drifting back up to my face. The queen studied me for several seconds, but I stood tall and straight and stared right back at her. I would have loved to have known what she was thinking, but I didn’t dare try to skim her thoughts, lest she sense my magic.
Maeven swept her skirt out to the side and sat down. Everyone waited until she was settled, then took their own seats again. The queen opened her mouth, probably to welcome everyone to her birthday dinner—
In the distance, a door banged open, as though it had been forcibly slammed into the wall behind it. The sound boomed through the throne room, although it was quickly replaced by the loud slap-slap-slap-slap of footsteps. Several whispers of surprise surged through the crowd.
I couldn’t see what was going on without craning my neck, so I studied Reiko. Sometime over the past few minutes, her morph mark had migrated from her hand up to her neck. Reiko’s eyes narrowed, and smoke boiled out of the dragon’s mouth, the black plume streaking across her skin before fading away. Whatever Reiko was looking at angered both her and her inner dragon—
Someone stepped in front of me, cutting off my view of Reiko and creating a long shadow that engulfed me. I looked up. A man was standing on the opposite side of the table. He was tall and muscled, with tan skin, dark amethyst eyes, and wavy hair that gleamed like liquid gold. No hint of stubble dared to darken his sharp, pointed chin, and he had the same angular nose and cheekbones as Maeven.
A short, formal midnight-purple jacket draped perfectly off his broad shoulders. Gold buttons marched down the front of the jacket, while the Morricone crest done in gold thread stretched all the way across his chest. Bold of him to wear such a large crest. That sort of thing was usually reserved for the ruling royal, especially at a formal dinner.
Then again, I doubted that Milo Maximus Moreland Morricone cared much for the niceties of protocol.
I had seen his likeness more than once, so I knew exactly who he was. Even worse, the crown prince’s power blasted over me, and my fingertips started violently tingling again. He seemed to be just as strong in his lightning magic as Maeven was in hers, although her plethora of amethyst jewelry gave her a clear edge. Still, Milo was easily one of the most powerful magiers I had ever encountered.
Milo didn’t bother greeting the queen or his siblings. Instead, his cold gaze flicked over me, the new person at the table. He must have thought I was one of Delmira’s friends because he turned away, dismissing me as unimportant. He gestured with his hand, and a woman stepped into view.
She was stunningly beautiful, with pale gray eyes and rosy skin. Her red velvet gown brought out the matching highlights in her long auburn hair, and a gorgeous gold-and-ruby choker ringed her neck. That must be Corvina Dumond, Milo’s fiancée.
My fingertips tingled yet again, and they also grew cold and wet, as though I had dipped them in a bucket of ice water. Corvina was rumored to be a powerful weather magier, as were most of the Dumonds.
“Sorry we’re late,” Milo said, although there was no true apology in his deep voice.
“Oh, yes, Mother Maeven. Please forgive us,” Corvina chimed in.
Mother Maeven? Blech. Corvina was laying it on a bit thick, but I didn’t envy her position. Having Maeven as a mother-in-law was a terrifying prospect. I would have been bowing and scraping and doing everything I could to earn her favor, lest she decide to kill me and marry her son to someone else.
The queen stared at the younger, twenty-something woman, and Corvina’s smile quickly cracked and slipped off her face. No doubt many a noble had wilted under that icy, inscrutable glare.
“I do not know how things are done in other families,” Maeven said, her voice deceptively light and pleasant. “But in my family, one is not late for a formal engagement.”
Milo rolled his eyes, but Maeven ignored her son and kept staring at Corvina, as though she blamed solely the younger woman for the couple’s tardiness.
Corvina dropped into a deep curtsy. “My apologies, Mother Maeven. We were busy with the wedding planning.”
“I am your queen, not your mother,” Maeven said in that same deceptively pleasant voice. “Surely simple familial lineage is not beyond your grasp.”
Several amused chuckles rang out. Courtiers enjoyed few things more than seeing someone cut down with cruel words.
Corvina snapped upright. An angry flush stained her cheeks, and she opened her mouth, but the queen kept giving her that same icy stare, and Corvina had the good sense to pinch her lips together and bite back whatever insult she’d been about to hurl at Maeven.
“Come,” Milo said, breaking the tense silence. “Let us sit.”
He pulled out the chair across from mine, and Corvina dropped down into it. She made a big show of arranging her skirt, but rage glittered in her eyes, making them gleam like gray stars.
Arrogant old bitch. I didn’t even have to reach out with my magic. Corvina’s vicious thought pounded into my mind with the same red-hot rage that was hammering in her heart.
Calm, calm, calm, Corvina muttered in her mind. Must stay calm.
Then another, softer thought whispered in my mind. This farce will be over soon enough.
Now that was interesting. Corvina could be thinking about the dinner, but her words sounded snide and sinister, as if she was talking about something much more important than the meal. Could Corvina be plotting against Maeven?
Milo sat down in his own chair. He was on the queen’s left, while Delmira was on her mother’s right. I was next to Delmira, with Corvina across from me. Leonidas was on my right, with a noblewoman across from him. More nobles filled out the rest of the table.
Another series of bells rang, servants streamed into the throne room, and the queen’s birthday dinner officially began.
I had never been to a Mor
tan dinner before, but it was as fine, grand, and extravagant as any formal occasion I had ever attended in Andvari, Bellona, or Unger.
Dish after dish was placed before me. Cold vegetable soups brimming with spices. Hot fruit soups adorned with crispy, caramelized sugar chips. Stacks of fried green tomatoes served with cilantro sour cream. Peaches, pears, and raspberries tossed in a tangy ginger-lime vinaigrette. Soft yeast rolls dripping with savory dill butter. Hard, crusty baguettes drizzled with sourwood honey. Most of the dishes were small, no more than three bites, but each one was exquisite.
The more generous main course was sweet-and-sour meatballs served with fat raviolis stuffed with parmesan and ricotta cheeses and dusted with toasted sourdough breadcrumbs seasoned with sage. For dessert, there were dried fruits paired with a variety of cheeses, along with sweet nuts and spiced chocolates.
I washed everything down with a light, refreshing cherry lemonade, sighed with happiness, and placed my napkin on the table. If this was my last meal, then it had been a most excellent one.
Once the dessert dishes had been cleared away, the servants brought out trays of after-dinner drinks. I chose a flavored ice sweetened with mangoes, strawberries, limes, and a splash of mango liqueur. The cold, fruity concoction was so delicious that I sipped it slowly, trying to make it last as long as possible.
There hadn’t been much conversation during dinner, although one noble after another had gotten up at the start of each new course to wish Maeven a happy early birthday, since the grand occasion wasn’t until tomorrow. Hearing the nobles sing their queen’s praises made me grind my teeth, but I had concentrated on my food and managed to ignore most of their flowery platitudes, along with the snide whispers they were truly thinking about their not-so-beloved queen.
Now that the food was gone, I didn’t know what would happen. I glanced at the double doors in the distance, but they remained closed. No escape yet.
The woman across from Leonidas leaned forward, looking past Corvina and Milo and focusing on Maeven. “Let me also wish you a happy early birthday, my queen,” she said in a sultry voice.
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