by K. A. Linde
Cyrene sighed. She knew this part. She had known how to play this role her entire life. In fact, she had always been the lady in the dress. She was much better at negotiations like this than she had ever been at them with a sword. She was just becoming the lady with the sword. It was like taking off one skin and putting on another that was long ago discarded. She had hoped, when she became the Domina, that she would be able to merge the two. There was still time to make it work.
“Well, that means I need a new dress.” Cyrene plucked at the old garb they had repurposed to get them in the castle. “Something new, eye-catching, and very, very expensive.”
Kaliana laughed. “Ah, the old Cyrene is back.”
“If that’s what we need to win at his game, then so be it.”
28
The Festival
“How do I look?” Cyrene twirled in place so that Dean and Kaliana could see the sleek, new dress the palace dressmaker had just finished literally stitching her into. It wasn’t anything like the revealing gowns she had worn in the past, but it showed off all her curves in the most alluring way possible, considering the shape of Tiekan gowns.
Kaliana clapped her hands. “Perfect. Killian will die.”
Dean just crossed his arms.
“Is that a good thing?” she asked Dean.
“You know that you look beautiful.”
“Well, a girl does like to hear it every now and again.”
She turned back to the mirror and fussed with her hair. She knew that Dean was less than pleased with this plan. But really…there was no other plan.
She’d love to just intimidate Killian and force him to give them his army. That would be the ideal. But the Tiekan people were proud. They weren’t fickle like Aurum, who was used to having a different king every couple of years. Where the lords really ruled the land. Here, they loved Killian, and they would rebel against anyone who forced him to do anything. She wouldn’t depose him, and she couldn’t see a way to bend him to her will that didn’t involve amoral actions, like slicing into his brain with her magic and making him.
So, they had her womanly wiles and her many, many years of training at court ballroom diplomacy.
Kaliana finished getting ready and then offered her arm to Cyrene. “Together?”
Cyrene nodded. The moment was surreal. Working with Kaliana at all was beyond surreal. But this felt so…different. Like they were actually on the same footing, back in the world where they had always competed against each other. It seemed so silly when she looked back on it.
Dean stood at their backs. A stoic mask on his face as he walked with them to the festivities outside.
Cyrene’s face lit up at the glowing gardens filled with yellow flowers. Candlelight flickered all over the stunning garden display and out to the enormous hedge maze beyond. Three giant bonfires made a triangle around the central May Day pole. Couples were dancing around it, coyly stepping around each other in a dance Cyrene knew all too well. Everywhere she looked was decadence and revelry and quickly devolving debauchery. It was magical.
She took a proffered drink from a servant and stepped into the festivities. She felt more than saw Dean blend into the background of the party. His eyes trailing her through the grounds. Kaliana smiled at people she might have once known. Played the part of a giddy party girl well and guided Cyrene toward the tent that had been erected for the king’s chair and his favored aristocracy.
Cyrene lowered her head at Killian once more. Murmurs went up and down his court at her manners, her dress, her face. The purposely sensuous way that she approached the king.
“Majesty,” she said. “Your Beltane festival is stunning to behold. I am glad to be here for your season.”
“I am pleased that you like it,” Killian said. He turned to Kaliana. “Hello, sister.”
Kaliana stepped forward and curtsied. “It’s an honor to be back in Tiek on my favorite day of the year.”
“Ah, yes, do you remember the year we spent it in Father’s hunting cabin?”
A muscle twitched in Kaliana’s cheek. Whatever the memory was, it was not pleasant. But Killian had brought it up on purpose.
“How could I forget?” Kaliana asked impassively. “It was the May Day when we were first allowed to dance the maypole.”
Clearly something more had happened, but Cyrene would have to wait on the answer. It was best not to let anyone know she suspected a thing.
Cyrene was prepared to step aside to allow the next guest to address the king, and then a man striding into the tent caught her eye. He casually dropped into a seat, and her jaw fell open.
“Ah, Lord Selby,” Killian said with a grin. “Good for you to show up.”
“Basille Selby,” Cyrene gasped.
His face snapped to hers, and she could see him visibly tense in irritation. “My lady Cyrene, what a pleasant surprise.”
“You know each other?” Killian asked.
“We were acquainted in Eleysia,” Basille said, coming back to his feet. He strode toward Cyrene, took her hand in his, and bowed deeply. “Excellent to see you again.”
His eyes said otherwise. The last time she had seen him, he had escorted them through the Drop Pass in Kell where they’d been attacked by a Nokkin and rogue Guild members. They’d had to stop an avalanche in the process, and as soon as they had gotten through again, Basille had disappeared. Happy to never see her again, she was sure.
“It’s always such an adventure when you are around,” Basille said.
Killian rose to his feet. “I would love to hear the story of how you met the Domina, Lord Selby. You always tell the best tales.”
“It would be a delight to tell it to you,” Basille said. But his eyes were still on Cyrene’s. They had widened when Killian called her the Domina.
And she narrowed hers back. Saying that they certainly needed to talk about what in the Creator’s name he was doing here and what he knew about the Domina.
Killian held his hand out. “We will leave it for another time. Dance with me, Domina.”
“As you wish,” she said simply, placing her hand in his and letting him guide her out into the crowd.
Killian swept her into the revelry with a flick of his wrist. He had reduced his grandeur for the evening. Gone was the heavy crown and scepter, the sweeping robes. Instead, he was a striking figure in sumptuous gold and ruby. Jewels glittered on nearly every finger. And his smile was one who had never known any difficulties in his life.
“Your new gown suits you,” he said, twirling her in place. “I am surprised you are so bold to match the king.”
She smiled. “Thank you. But red has always been my color. I wear the white now, but old habits bring me back to the red and gold.”
“Well, I do like bold,” he said with a grin. “Now, tell me, how do you truly know Basille Selby?”
Cyrene wondered how much he truly knew about Basille Selby. Clearly, Killian did not think Basille was the simple merchant that Cyrene had believed him to be when he first gave her the Doma book. Did he know of the scandal when Basille had fallen in love with Brigette and been cast out of Eleysia?
“He speaks the truth. We met in Eleysia. I was there, looking for a pair of tutors that I had heard rumors of. He was of assistance and helped me locate them.”
“Tutors? Whatever for? Isn’t Byern known for its extensive training?”
“Indeed. However, my present tutor,” she began, thinking of that moment Kaliana had pushed all of her hard work off of the desk, “wasn’t a good fit. These women were more dedicated to my areas of interest.”
“And what was that, Domina?” he asked with a wicked grin.
“The Doma, of course.”
“Ancient history.”
She grinned. “Yes, and the powers they wielded.”
“Ah, these powers,” he said flippantly. He waved one hand as they executed another turn through the garden dance. “Magic.”
She had known that Tiek did not believe in magic. Few still
did here in Emporia. But it had been some time since she spoke to someone who truly did not know that it still existed. It was an advantage and a disadvantage, depending on how she could use it.
“You do not believe?” Cyrene finally asked.
Killian laughed softly. “You have to ask?”
“On tonight of all nights? Is not Beltane a night for the spirits and the faeries? The bonfires are for protection against the things of the night during this equinox. And the yellow flowers are gifts for the little folk. A strange night to disbelieve.”
“It is all for the simpletons,” he said dismissively. “Faeries and spirits are just make-believe. Told to keep children in check.”
“And the populace it seems.”
“Their superstitions satisfy their need for a more fulfilling life.”
Cyrene wanted so badly to tell him just how wrong he was. That magic was real and her best friend was a Leif, a descendent of the Fae. But hearing him speak nonsense was so enlightening.
Their dance ended, and Killian grabbed them each a glass of punch and then moved her toward the bonfires. “Now, if you would like to fulfill our traditions, we make a loop of the three bonfires to ward off another year of the faeries.”
“I would like that very much,” she said with a secret smile.
Killian’s eyes roamed the grounds as they began their circuit. “Where did your guard get off to?”
Cyrene raised an eyebrow. “He is doing his job, Majesty. I do not keep tabs on him. He keeps tabs on me.”
Killian laughed. “Of course. How long has he been in your service?”
Cyrene frowned at his question. It was a leading one. Did he somehow know Dean? Had he met him when he was the prince?
“For a year,” she said.
“And are you two together?”
Cyrene nearly tripped around the bonfire at the question. “Excuse me?”
Killian just chuckled. “I will take that as a yes. We don’t frown upon such things here. Everyone knows that royalty must marry but rarely for love. A lover isn’t forbidden.”
Cyrene recovered quickly. “We’re not.”
“If you say so.”
“And what about you? Do you have a dalliance or plans to marry?” Cyrene asked since he’d broached the topic.
“A dalliance or two,” he said with a wink. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
She was hardly worried. “And marriage arrangements?”
Killian shot her a coy smile. “We can discuss that later.” They turned around the last bonfire. He brought her hand up to his lips one more time. “Now you are saved from the magical faeries. Please tell me that you will come to a private dinner with me during your stay. I would love to continue this discussion without prying eyes and ears.”
Cyrene nodded and pretended to be enraptured by him. “I would love that.”
“Excellent. I will send my man for you when I am free.”
She curtsied. “Thank you for the dance.”
Killian inclined his head and then returned to his place at the head of the court. Eyes followed her as she stepped toward the refreshments and retrieved a second glass of punch. The temperatures had risen rapidly in the last week, indicating the beginning of summer, and this dress did nothing to relieve the heat from the dancing and bonfires.
No one approached her after the king had singled her out. She was familiar with that feeling, too. She had a moment to watch the spectacle and how beautiful it truly was. Even if they were making fun of magic and Fae and all the things she was fighting for. She would show them the truth soon enough.
“Hello, Domina,” Basille Selby said, appearing at her side.
“How is it that you are always where I am?” she asked him.
“I am always trying to hide out, and you are always the one pulling me out into the open.”
“What exactly are you hiding from?” she asked.
“Lest you haven’t noticed, a war is brewing. You are in the middle of it, my dear. And I would like to be as far away from it as possible.”
Cyrene rolled her eyes. “Coward.”
“Liking my head on my shoulders does not make me a coward.”
“Tell me, Basille, why did you give my sister that book in the Laelish Market? Why do you know about the Children of the Dawn? How did you know to send me to Matilde and Vera?” she prodded. The punch loosening her tongue enough for her to ask all the questions she had always wanted answers to.
“I am a simple merchant,” he said, flaring his Eleysian blue cape wide like the lord he actually was.
She snorted. “Sure, and I am a lowly Affiliate.”
He straightened. His movements smooth and beautiful. Everything about him well-oiled and dramatic. “You once were proud of that.”
“It used to be something to be proud of,” she said crossly.
“How much of that punch have you had?” he asked, looking into her empty glass. “It’s potent, and you’re a mite little thing.”
Cyrene hastily set her glass aside. Being out of her wits would not be good for tonight. “Just tell me the truth for once,” she said, poking her finger into his chest. “Tell me how you knew about Doma before anyone ever believed I had magic.”
“It is my job to know everything. And I learned long ago, Domina, to discern the truth. Listen and learn everything that you can, that is only half the battle. It is determining what is real; that is the hardest thing to master.”
“But how did you know?” she whispered.
He put his arm out to stop her from swaying. “And you did not discern that the punch was spiked for the Beltane festival.”
“Dean,” she slurred. “I need Dean.”
Basille Selby snapped his fingers, and suddenly, Dean was there as if he had been waiting just in the shadows for her.
“Hello, Princeling,” Basille said in greeting. “The punch snuck up on her.”
Dean sighed. “Hello, Selby. Surprise to see you here.”
“And how is your sister?”
“Alive and attempting to rule Eleysia while holding off a Queen’s War.”
Basille blanched. “A Queen’s War? I hadn’t heard.”
“Yes. She could use some help,” Dean said pointedly.
Cyrene shook her head, trying to get the sludge out of her brain. She wasn’t that drunk, but she had never had a good tolerance for wine, let alone whatever was in this.
“Come on, Cyrene,” Dean said. “We should get you back to your quarters.”
“That is an excellent idea,” Basille said. “Be wary of Killian.”
Dean shot him a look filled with annoyance. “If you have something to say, then say it. Otherwise, leave.”
Basille arched an eyebrow, and then, to their chagrin, he actually walked away.
Dean grumbled under his breath. Then he put his arm around her waist and helped her through the darkened gardens and back into the palace. She staggered through the halls before he got fed up, picked her up into his arms, and carried her back to their quarters.
“Dean!” she protested.
“You’re drunk, Cyrene.”
“I am not.”
He pursed his lips. “It was bad enough to have to watch you flirt with Killian all night in that dress. I can tell that you are intoxicated.”
Cyrene threw her head back and sighed. “If I remember correctly, Prince, you were the one who imbibed back in Kinkadia.”
“I was a different person back in Kinkadia,” he said flatly.
“And I was not flirting with Killian.”
Dean kicked the door open to her suite and deposited her onto the giant bed without a word.
“I think he knows you,” Cyrene said, rolling over and smiling up at him.
“Killian?” Dean asked in surprise.
“He asked after you. Wanted to know how long you’d been working for me.”
“I’ve never met him. My travels took me to Albion and Aurum before I returned with you to Eleysia.”
&nb
sp; Cyrene shrugged. “I think he knows you.” She hopped off the bed. “Dear Creator, would you undo my corset? These stays are killing me.”
Dean twirled his finger and began unlacing the corset as if he had been doing it all his life. The boning stopped digging into her ribs, and she sighed in relief.
“You are very quick about that.”
“I did it for many years,” he said bitterly.
“To help your sisters?” she asked, misjudging his tone and thinking he was upset by their deaths in the destruction of Byern.
“No,” he barked. “Please go to sleep.”
Cyrene reached out for him. “Talk to me.”
“You are drunk,” he ground out.
“And you are mad with me.”
“No,” he said finally on a sigh. “I had to do it for Valesamy in Domara.”
It was Cyrene’s turn to still. “Did she…”
“I do not want to talk about it, Cyrene.”
She pressed her hand against his cheek. “How can you still look at me with such warmth when you were hurt so badly?”
His hands went around her waist, drawing her closer. “Because you are the reason for it all. You were my starlight in a dark world. My beacon home.”
Cyrene threaded her fingers through his and pulled him toward the bed. She scooted back on it, letting the corset fall away. “Come to bed.”
He swallowed and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “If you still want this when you are sober…”
“I will,” she insisted.
“Then I can wait to find out,” he said easily before withdrawing.
29
The Private Dinner
“Why hasn’t he asked for me?” Cyrene ground out three days later when she still had not received her invitation to dinner.
Kaliana rhythmically pulled a brush through her own hair. “Because this is my brother we speak of. He does like his games. He likes to make everyone wait. Even royalty.”
Cyrene was embarrassed by how she had acted the night of Beltane with Dean. She had clearly had way too much punch. Kaliana had told her too late that it was mixed from the longest-aged distilled liquor they had. A barrel was reserved for Beltane and Samhain. Most people knew to drink no more than one glass or to dilute it with other liquids. Cyrene’s head had hurt for a full day afterward, and she had hardly been able to look Dean in the eyes.