by Amanda Joy
Arinel used a similar trick, his low voice booming across the large chamber. “Princess Isadore and Princess Evalina’s fates have always been entwined, but today we twist their lives together with magick.”
Tildas stepped forward and intoned in the same booming voice, “Once the Entwining is complete, a Rival Heir can only be killed by a weapon or magick wielded by the other.”
Isadore and I stayed in place while everyone else stepped back. We both knew our parts. As Tildas and Arinel began to hum low within their throats, Isadore and I turned to face each other and joined hands.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see both Tildas and Arinel, their fingers moving in complex, impossible-to-follow motions. Both lifted their hands and drew their fingers down a braided tattoo on their necks.
The humming stopped and threads of red magick sprang from their fingertips, like ribbons, but sucking up light around them and pulsing rapidly. They wove through the air until they became one. As the ribbons settled around our throats and our joined hands, they gave me only a light sensation of warmth. It was almost pleasant, but then both Sorceryn slapped their hands together, the sound crackling through the ballroom like lightning, and the ribbons became like hot irons, driving straight into my heart.
I squeezed Isa’s hands, bearing the pain with her. It was deeply unsettling, seeing everything I felt mirrored in her eyes—fear, pain, and trepidation—both of us unmasked. There was no hiding in the midst of this. The pain intensified as the ribbons cut through every bit of my body—blood, flesh, and bone.
The Sorceryn rubbed their hands together and the pain abated. Together, Isadore and I sucked in a breath, and then realized we still held hands and jerked away from each other. I felt no different, only out of breath. It seemed there should have been a sign, a physical representation of the way we were twisted together, but there was nothing—only Isadore standing across from me, watching the tattoos on my arms, expression eager.
Isa’s quick slice of a smile stopped me. “So it begins. Happy nameday, little sister. I hope you savor it.”
CHAPTER 31
THREE GLASSES OF wine later—unwatered, sweet, high-summer wine downed in two gulps and chased by flaky fruit-stuffed pastries—I’d danced with a great many men. Some lovely looking, others plain, one toadish in a way I found charming, and all connected by two things: the overblown ambition of becoming King, and their general disinterest in me. I found this interesting, if a bit mystifying. One would think the surest way to fulfill that ambition would be to impress me, flatter or charm me, and find some way to make an impression on me. Because in these fantasies in which they were King, I would be Queen—they would be mostly ornamental unless they had something exceptional to offer. Alas, there was nothing even remotely exceptional among this bunch, besides their clear detachment from reality.
The fools were a welcome distraction from my looming demise, along with the wine. I felt like I finally had a firm grip on myself. And if I hadn’t yet accepted my fate—ending up magick-less and dead, never to have a ball in my name again—at least I stopped despairing over it. Besides, I didn’t need to worry tonight. There were never challenges on the first night after the Entwining.
Eventually I was spun into Falun’s arms. All his hair, save for the bright little tendrils on his brow, was braided back in a complex pattern that lay flat against his scalp, mimicking a shorter style. Without all the hair to distract from his face, he looked terribly handsome. But when I smiled at him, he frowned back at me.
“Did you tell him not to come?”
“What?” I blinked at him as his hands settled on my hips for a spin. “Who?”
“I knew you were upset when we left the Little Palace a few days ago, but what is the point of shutting him out now?”
That answered my question as to whether things were still going well between the two. “I’m not . . . angry at Baccha.” I had given one of the guards sent to watch his room an invitation for Baccha, though I didn’t expect him to come. A nameday ball didn’t exactly seem like something he’d be interested in, unless he planned to use it to gather more information. And he might not be pleased with the five guards I’d ordered to watch his comings and goings. “Did he tell you what he told me?”
“No.” Falun frowned. “But he told me that you would.”
“Tomorrow,” I promised. I switched my grip in Falun’s hands so that I led. He rolled his eyes but went along with my direction. “This party is for me, if you didn’t notice.”
“Happy nameday,” Falun said, voice flat. His blue eyes were round with concern. “I had an idea. What if we all moved to the Little Palace? You and Mirabel and the entire guard. That way, until we have a plan, you won’t risk running into Isadore in the Palace until you are ready.”
“I can’t move into my dead father’s house,” I snapped.
“All right. It was a silly idea. Half the guard would have to sleep in the stables.”
I laughed softly at his attempt to defuse the moment, cursing my sharp tongue. It wasn’t silly. It was smart, but I couldn’t do it. The rest of our dance passed in uncomfortable silence. But when we embraced, it seemed all was forgiven. Falun never could hold a grudge—even when I deserved it.
I slipped through the crowd, searching for Aketo. My hands started shaking when I realized I couldn’t find him—he’d gone before I even had one dance.
Someone cleared their throat behind me and I braced myself for another one of the dull, insulting would-be suitors. I spun and found Aketo smiling down at me.
He bowed slightly. “Can we share a dance? Or do you have other partners lined up?”
I looked past his shoulder to find Mother glaring at me. Certain it was fury keeping her back ramrod straight, I took Aketo’s hand. If the look on Mother’s face was any indication, she knew who he was, and the preferred ratio for dances at my nameday ball was at least one hundred human lordlings for every khimaer Prince.
“Aketo,” I said, breathless with relief. “Can we get a drink first?”
He laced his fingers through mine and guided me toward the long table where the wine and sweets were being served. As he passed me a goblet, I took the chance to get a good look at him. He wasn’t wearing his soldier’s uniform tonight and the difference was significant. His trousers were black and fitted quite well to his long legs. His jacket was also black, though the lapels were crowded with gold knots like the scales on his neck.
Along the edges of the gold embroidery, more knotwork tracked up his shoulders in bright orange and cobalt—both colors for me.
He took a sip of his drink and paused with the goblet pressed against his bottom lip.
Warmth licked up my body as he lowered the wine and traced his full bottom lip with his tongue. “Eva.”
I shivered as I reached past him to grab another glass of wine. As I pulled back, my arm brushed his, raising gooseflesh.
“Lord Prince, you look terribly handsome.”
“And you are more beautiful than I ever could have prepared for, Princess Evalina.” He grinned. “And is it so terrible?”
“Yes, it’s terrible how much I like your face.”
He leaned close. “I’ll allow that. In truth, I’d allow anything from you tonight.”
I choked on a swallow of wine. “That dance you mentioned. Shall we?”
Aketo’s hand was warm and electric in mine, but even he couldn’t drown out the weight of everyone’s attention. “They’re all watching.”
The hand not holding mine settled against my waist. His thumb rubbed over the firestone chain and my breath hitched. “Somehow news of who I am has spread. I don’t mind the attention, but if you do . . .”
Gods damn it. I needed to ask Anali to have guards with him at all times. “I’m fine.” He watched me. “I don’t mind being around the Court. I just find them tiring. I haven’t missed being in the Palace at
all.”
“Did you have to spend time with them often?” The lightest flexing of his hand drew me in and away, the pair of us twirling the entire time like a spinning top. He put pressure in the hand at my waist, nothing like the polite, barely touching suitors earlier or Falun’s mechanical movement. For a moment as Aketo twisted, his palm stretched wide and his thumb brushed the bottom edge of my breast. Protected by the heavy beading at the bottom of the bodice, I shouldn’t have felt it, but I did, like a small shock. I’d been feeling hands on my bare waist all night; his touch shouldn’t have felt more drugging than the wine.
But it was.
“I attended Court three times a week, or only twice if I could get away with it, though that wasn’t often because if I skipped it altogether, either my mother might decide to pay attention to me or people would talk. Mostly I . . .” The music shifted to a quicker tempo and Aketo slid his hand up the side of my body and down my arm to take both of my hands. “Mostly I sparred with my guard, read, and tried to avoid my mother and sister. I spent most of my days alone.”
“Solitude sounds lovely. In our home, there were always people. It never stopped.”
We spun and I was glad I’d been saved from answering. Papa had been one of those people frequenting his home. “Have you danced with anyone else tonight?”
“Anali danced with me, which was a bit awkward, and some of the guards.” He flushed. “I also danced with your sister.”
I froze and we stood pressed together. His body was so familiar. I could have gotten lost in it, if not for the fear racing up my skin. Why would she dance with Aketo? Why would she know anything about him?
“Isadore is quite the accomplished dancer. I’m sure it was lovely.”
“As are you, but she seemed less inclined toward dancing and more toward investigating why I’d come to Ternain.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“That I came to protect you.” He held my eyes for as long as the music allowed.
“Did she ask anything else?”
“She asked about Baccha and she wanted to know more about . . . us,” he said hesitantly. “I told her nothing, but she seemed to have made some assumptions.”
I flushed under the weight of his gaze, and everyone else’s. “I think I do mind the audience.”
“There is something I wanted to give you.” He pulled me through the twirling couples until we reached a spot behind two large pillars in the corner of the ballroom that created a semi-private nook.
He held up a fine gold chain; hanging from it was a dark stone about the size of my fingertips, cut into a teardrop. As it twisted in the air, the colors shifted, from bloodred to black and then to a blue sparkling with an internal light. I’d never seen anything like it.
“Baccha told me it worked like this. A suitor’s gift, the first of many.”
Our Hunter meddling again. “But, Aketo, I might die.”
He caught my chin in his fingers so that I would look up at him. His eyes were safe.
The words spilled out of me before sense could take hold. “Prince Aketo, I accept your suit.”
We stood there for a moment, just staring at each other as he fastened the pendant around my neck. Aketo shifted his weight and I burned at our closeness. His face hovered inches above mine, the entire line of his body pressed against me, with one of his hands resting against my waist with the same insistent weight as when we danced.
He bent close enough for his lips to brush mine. Heat scorched an unforgiving path up my thighs, to my waist and my mouth. His mouth met mine, lips soft but insistent. He deepened the kiss, tongue sliding over my bottom lip. I knotted my fingers through his hair, drinking him in with my mouth and my hands.
He pressed me back against the pillar and I pulled him closer. I forgot where we were, forgot everything but the trails of heat left in the wake of his fingertips and the taste of his mouth, like sunlight and caramel.
My tongue caught one of his fangs and a sigh shuddered through him, raising gooseflesh everywhere we touched. “Careful,” he whispered.
I pressed my mouth back to his and we twisted so that his back was against the pillar. I crushed myself against him and pulled at his lips with my teeth. His fingers tested the edge of the skirt, dipping beneath the waistband.
I was gasping against his mouth when Aketo leaned away from me and rested his head against my neck, breathing in my scent. “We should—you should get back.”
I shook my head. “Let’s not. The night’s almost over anyway and I’ve had enough dancing. We can just slip up to my room and the guard will follow eventually.”
Emotions flashed across his face so quickly that I could hardly follow. Desire, confusion, regret, frustration. “We can’t.” I opened my mouth to protest as Aketo took a half step away from me. “And you’re . . . we’ve both had wine tonight. Perhaps another time would be—”
My stomach gave a lurch. I shoved him away. “If you don’t want to be alone with me, say so. No one is going to attack me tonight, and even if they try, we’ll be together.”
“I don’t trust myself to protect you tonight. We’ve both had more than our fair share of the wine. Who knows what plans your sister has?” He stepped forward again, eyes softening as they took in my face. “We can spend more time alone when it is safe. And we’re both in full command of ourselves. I would never want you to regret anything. It was just last week that you weren’t speaking to me.”
“That has nothing to do with this. I was grieving.” I hated myself even as I said it. “I thought you understood.”
“I do understand, Eva. You still are grieving,” he whispered, turning away. “I can feel it all the time, even when you’re with me now, you’re still—you’re still in pain.”
I jerked away from him and wrapped my arms around my stomach.
My pain was my own. For him to throw it back in my face, when it had no bearing on this at all . . . It felt unreasonably cruel. I’d managed to forget my father for a few hours. Why did it matter that I’d done so with the assistance of a few cups of wine. The forgetting was the important part. I thought he would want to help me forget.
He reached toward me. “I’m sorry, Eva. I shouldn’t have . . .”
And I thought he wouldn’t use my own heart against me. I thought he was safe. Fool, fool, fool.
“I need to leave. I need Anali and I need to go,” I said. He stepped closer and I backed away. “Please don’t touch me.”
He nodded. “All right. Well, you shouldn’t be alone.”
I stared down at the marble floor. “I’m not so helpless that I can’t be alone for a moment.”
He hesitated and the need to hurt him back rose in me. “I don’t need you, Aketo. At all. Please go.”
I pushed past him. When I was far enough away, I wrapped one hand around the pendant. It wasn’t nearly as warm as he was.
I moved through the press of bodies, searching for Anali. I found her at the edge of the ballroom, in the same antechamber where I’d spoken with my mother. She didn’t ask why I needed to leave, only went to find the rest of the guards so that I could return to my rooms.
“Where is Aketo?” Falun asked when he came up to the room. “I saw you two together. I thought . . .”
I didn’t answer, just held on to the pendant tighter and tighter. I should have been making myself less attached to it, because I would need to give it back to him—but I couldn’t let it go.
When Anali returned, she had the same question.
I looked away from all their expectant faces. “He should be in the ballroom.”
“Well, we have searched and we can’t find him. He wouldn’t leave, unless . . .” Anali cut a suspicious glance in my direction. “Did he have some reason to leave?”
Our argument wasn’t cause enough, and I didn’t care for the look Anali was giving me—s
omewhere between accusatory and concerned.
Maybe he had reason to leave. My mind played back our conversation, hesitating over one detail.
She wanted to know more about . . . us.
“Is Isadore still inside?” Unease pulsed beneath my skin.
It took hardly any searching to confirm it. I knew with a certainty, felt it deep in my bones. I had left him, even though I knew Isadore had noticed him. I thought of every treat and trinket, every friend and gift she had coveted, then taken.
I knew.
And now Aketo was gone.
CHAPTER 32
I RAN.
Through deserted hallways, down winding staircases, my slippers alternately slapping the marble and skidding when I made too quick a turn.
Someone snatched at my arms—guards, maybe Falun or Anali—but I kept running. Even when I reached the door to Baccha’s rooms, I didn’t stop. I kicked the door and it swung open, unlocked.
I ran into his bedchamber and found another unlocked door. He wasn’t inside and finally I stopped.
I crouched, burying my head in my knees as I screamed in frustration.
Then I stood and found all the guards standing around me, weapons drawn, looking between me and Anali, unsure of who they needed to be fighting, but certain weapons must be necessary by now. They all looked winded, but I didn’t feel tired. I felt like a flare, burning in the sky.
“Eva.” Anali reached toward me, the way you might approach an untamed dog. “Wait for a moment. There’s no proof your sister took Aketo.”
Your Highness, I wanted to say. Why couldn’t anyone respect me when I needed it?
I shoved past her and the rest of them, moving out into Baccha’s suite. I was going to start running again, this time for my room and my weapons, when the door to the sitting room creaked open.
Baccha stepped out. “If you’ve come to ask me to be your escort to your party, this is too last-minute.”