King of Mist (Steel and Fire Book 2)

by Jordan Rivet

  “Good. You do that.”

  Sora left the library, offering Lady Tull a perfectly polite nod on her way out.

  Siv greeted Lady Tull as nonchalantly as he could manage, and they set to planning their engagement feast. Tull was full of ideas for how to make the feast spectacular, filling the evening with entertainment and dancing and unique and surprising foods. Siv agreed to most of her suggestions, remaining as amenable as ever to her influence. His lady was in for a surprise of her own, though.

  After First Snow, winter came fast on the mountain. Blankets of white descended from the heavens, weighing down the bridges and softening the sharp peaks. The people turned up their Fire Gates—if they could afford them—and burned paths through the deepening snow with Heatstones. The indoor tasks and leisure pursuits people had neglected while preparing for the winter season resumed in earnest. Fire Lanterns burned bright as people visited back and forth, adding a warm glow to the snowy slopes.

  As the day of the engagement feast approached, Siv continued to train with the New Guard as often as he could. He may not actually get a chance to fight, but he’d had enough of relying on other people to keep him safe. It felt good to get back into the rhythm of swordplay. The exercise and the friendly competition with the duelists helped him stay calm and focused while he waited for the Rollendars to make their move.

  He still accepted invitations to dinners and teas when he could, tramping through the snow to get to the greathouses that always seemed farther apart at this time of year. Lord Zurren hosted another exhibition dueling match, and the Castle Guard had a rousing argument over who’d get to accompany him, finally fighting a mini tournament for the privilege of guarding him and—more importantly—watching a good duel. Oat and Bilzar Ten ended up winning, and they made full use of the accompanying bragging rights. Dara didn’t join the competition for the assignment at all. She didn’t seem to want to spend any more time than she had to with Siv. That suited him fine.

  They kept the First Snow incident a secret from all but a trusted few. A castle Fireworker accompanied him everywhere now to watch for Firetears in his food, but they didn’t want the people to know how close he had come to being assassinated. He still wanted them to believe that Vertigon was safe and stable in the hands of the Amintelles.

  Meanwhile, Lady Tull acted as ladylike as ever, Bolden and Von Rollendar were their usual sneering selves, and General Pavorran continued to deliver his dry reports on the state of the army. Siv could almost believe they meant him no harm, if not for the work Dara was doing behind the scenes.

  She had reported back to him after visiting her Rollendar spy, who didn’t know where the mysterious duelists had gone. Dara wouldn’t reveal the identity of her spy, but she reported that the Rollendars had been consuming a lot of food for the amount of staff they had. They must be bankrolling those mysterious duelists somehow, no matter where they were hiding out. Siv suspected it all had something to do with the access road the Rollendars had been so interested in keeping to themselves. Hopefully the New Guard would be a match for the mysterious duelists when they showed up, especially because the attackers expected to catch them unaware.

  Siv and Dara maintained a formal distance after First Snow. Despite everything, Siv believed she really was working to keep him safe. He had seen too much to make him doubt that. But he couldn’t bring himself to forgive her for keeping the truth from him. At the end of the day, her father was still the one who had murdered his. His gut ached as though he were being stabbed every time he thought about it.

  Siv needed a plan to deal with Rafe Ruminor, but he was hoping to tackle that after the engagement feast. If Rafe showed up that night, Zage would be waiting to deal with him, but the Lantern Maker seemed content to work from the shadows. No one knew when the poisoned bottle of wine had turned up, but it was easy enough to guess who was responsible. One of the castle’s Fireworkers now checked every bottle and food item that came in for any hint of Firetears. Siv couldn’t take any more chances, with his life or with that of anyone else in the castle.

  The one area he left vulnerable was the secret tunnel through the kitchens. Instead of sealing it, he and Dara agreed it would be better for Bolden to build his plan around it. Lady Tull had visited the kitchens on several occasions, ostensibly to discuss the menu for the feast. If she was checking up on the tunnel, Siv wanted her to believe it remained unguarded. She couldn’t suspect that he knew anything.

  When the day of the feast dawned, Siv felt nervous but ready. It was time to show the Rollendars who ruled in Vertigon. And with luck, they would end the threat once and for all and enjoy a winter of true peace.

  28.

  The Engagement Feast

  SNOW fell thick on the castle the day of the engagement celebration. Servants darted back and forth through the courtyard, cloaks flying, bringing in last-minute trappings for the feast. Footprints in the snow marked their paths at first, but soon the flurries thickened, wiping away even the well-worn trails. As nightfall approached, Vertigon was facing its first true blizzard of the season. Heatstones alone weren’t enough to keep the paths clear, so the keepers brought out the cur-dragons to fly back and forth over the long stairway up to the castle, breathing fire onto the steps to melt the ice and snow so the guests could make their way up in safety.

  Dara led a handful of Guards on a sweep of the castle before the guests arrived to make sure nothing dangerous had found its way inside with the cured meats and baskets full of winter berries. The Guard was prepared, more eager than scared. They had trained hard, and tonight they would get a chance to prove themselves. It was far more exciting than a dueling competition as far as they were concerned.

  As she finished her check of the eastern tower, Dara encountered Siv coming down the corridor from the central tower’s stairwell. He wore a fine black coat embroidered with Firegold and Bandobar’s old Fire Blade.

  “Your Highness,” she said.

  “Miss Ruminor.”

  Dara bit back a sigh. The king had treated her formally since First Snow, though she’d actually spent a lot of time in his company. He continued to train with the New Guard, and he even sparred against her sometimes. With his renewed dedication to training, he was in better shape than he had been since becoming king. They had talked often as they prepared for what would happen tonight, but their conversations often took place in Pool’s presence, and they only ever discussed business. They avoided the topic of their fathers entirely. Dara feared the warmth and camaraderie she once shared with Siv was gone forever. Even though the marriage this feast was celebrating would not take place, she couldn’t help feeling that she had lost him for good.

  And every time she felt that, she forced herself to remember that she never truly had him. One kiss—okay, several kisses—in a stairwell didn’t mean anything. He would never forgive her for what had happened. Besides, he was the King of Vertigon—and she meant to make sure he kept that title.

  “Anything to report?” Siv asked, resting his hand on his blade and standing very straight. He looked like a monarch now, grave and sure.

  “The Guard is ready, Your Highness,” Dara said. “The castle Fireworkers will mingle among the guests, and two of them will be stationed in the kitchens with their own contingent of guards. We’ll make sure nothing gets through tonight.”

  “Good.”

  “Your Highness, may I have a word?”

  “If it’s quick,” Siv said. “My guests will be arriving in the Great Hall.”

  Dara waved for the Guards accompanying him, Luci and jittery young Shon, to give them some space. She rested her hand on her own sword hilt, acting the part of a concerned guard. That she was also a concerned friend was no longer relevant.

  “I wanted to ask you not to get involved in the fighting tonight,” she said. “Those duelists are professionals. I don’t think it would be wise for you to join in when the attack begins.”

  “I can handle myself with a blade,” Siv said.

&n
bsp; “I know you’ve been training, but you can’t put yourself at risk. That’s the sort of thing a foolish young king would do. We have to show the mountain that you’re wiser than that.”

  “Is that all, Miss Ruminor?” Siv raised an eyebrow, as if it were presumptuous of her to talk to him, as if there had never been anything between them at all. It made anger spike through her, but she forced down the feeling.

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  Siv turned on his heel, crisp as a soldier, and started to walk away. Dara grabbed his arm just before he stepped out of reach.

  “Siv, you can’t pretend like nothing ever happened between us,” she hissed. Okay, maybe she hadn’t forced her anger down enough after all. “We’re about to go into battle. We have to be able to trust each other.”

  “You’ve proved yourself unworthy of trust.”

  “I should have told you about my father,” she said. “I know that. But if you think I won’t do everything in my power to defend you, then remove me from the Guard right now.”

  “Oh, you’ll defend me,” Siv said. His face remained impassive. “I don’t doubt that.”

  “We’ll put every person in that room at risk if we walk around pretending we barely know each other.” Dara’s grip tightened on Siv’s arm. “We have to be a team.”

  “The New Guard is your team,” Siv said. “You’ve trained them to do a job. They will do their duty, and so will I.”

  “But—”

  “Miss Ruminor, you do not have permission to touch your king.”

  Dara scowled at him and released his arm. A shadow crossed Siv’s face for a moment, like he might regret what he’d said, but it was gone in an instant.

  “Is there anything else?” he said.

  “Yes,” Dara glanced over at Luci and Shon, but they were turned away from them, gazing politely down the opposite corridor. Before he could stop her, Dara reached up and cupped Siv’s face in both hands, making him look down at her. She may not have permission to touch her king, but her friend needed to know she was still with him. Her fingers brushed the edge of his lips.

  He stood very still. An image flashed into her mind for a moment, the memory of how he had watched her as she drew the poison from his body, how realization had slowly dawned. She had been so afraid she wouldn’t be able to do it. She had been so afraid she would lose him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. It may not change things, but if anything happened to him tonight she would never forgive herself for not saying it. “I’m sorry for not telling you the truth, and for—for everything.”

  “I loved my father, Dara,” he said.

  “I know,” she whispered. “I wish I had been able to do something sooner. You may not be able to forgive me, but I’m so sorry.”

  Some of the tension released from Siv’s shoulders. They stood still for a few minutes as the anger in his eyes slowly changed to sadness. He removed her hands from his face and held them in his, between them so the Guards wouldn’t see.

  “I know it wasn’t your fault, Dara.” He turned her right hand over and ran his long fingers from her palm to the blue veins in her wrist, tracing a line like a flow of Fire. “But I wish a lot of things had been different.”

  “Me too.” She breathed, trying to slow her rapid-fire heartbeat. “Please don’t do anything foolish tonight.”

  “I won’t,” he said. “You be careful too.”

  “I will.” She squeezed his hands once more, tight as a knot, and then strode back toward the other Guards.

  “It’s time.”

  More Guardsmen awaited them in the castle entryway. They jumped to attention, uniforms and blades sharp, as the king took his place in their midst. The athletes moved as a unit now, and they looked more alert than they ever had for a competition. Siv straightened his crown, saluted them all, and faced the elaborately wrought doors to the Great Hall. Dara and Telvin pushed the doors open together, and the king made his entrance.

  The Great Hall had been transformed into a palace of light. Lady Tull had commissioned special Works to decorate the walls and ceiling. Fire Lanterns usually lit the space, but now curving spirals of Fire-infused metal shaped like vines curled around the hall. They ran up every column and lit every alcove. Dara had been nervous about going near the Great Hall during their construction because the draw of the Fire (even mixed with a liberal portion of metal) was so strong. She gritted her teeth as she entered now, though. The Fire Warden himself would make sure nothing went awry.

  To complement the fanciful lighting fixtures, Lady Tull had arranged for ice sculptures and glass candlesticks to decorate the tables. The Firelight flickered off them and cast multicolored refractions around the room. Despite the cold outside, the scene was warm, the lights brilliant. Dara would have been impressed by Lady Tull’s efforts if she didn’t know the truth behind them. The lights and colors were smoke and mirrors to mask what was about to take place.

  Siv sauntered through the crowds of nobles already gathering in the hall, cutting an impressive figure in black. He laughed and joked with everyone he spoke to. He reminded Dara of King Sevren, who had greeted her so warmly when she attended her first feast two days before the Vertigon Cup—and his death.

  Dara stayed a few steps away from Siv at all times. She scanned the crowds for suspicious figures, on the alert for unusual jolts of Fire. But the Fire-infused vines decorating the walls made it harder to sense anything. She was glad Zage and his trusted castle Fireworkers were on hand in case anything went wrong.

  The nobles mingled while the Great Hall filled up with guests in all their finery. The Rollendars were among the last to arrive. The two sandy-haired men wore scarlet coats—Bolden’s open at the throat. They had a bodyguard each, and the pair immediately joined the other noble bodyguards lounging by the back wall. Dara had assigned a few Castle Guards to watch over this group, but none of them had made threatening movements so far.

  Lord Von Rollendar marched straight to his place at one of the long tables stretching across the hall and leaned in to speak with Lord Morrven seated beside him. His friend Lord Samanar had been assigned a seat on the opposite side of the hall. Von’s relaxed demeanor gave no hints about the scheme he must be preparing to activate any moment now.

  Bolden shot a sulky stare at the king then slouched into an alcove with another young lord. When Dara checked on them during her rounds, they were sharing a flask, looking every inch the bored young noblemen forced to attend an official function. They certainly didn’t look like men planning a coup.

  Tension tightened between Dara’s shoulder blades. Something felt off about tonight. She couldn’t figure out why. The other Guards looked serious and focused. Everyone was where he or she was supposed to be. Yuri guarded the door to the kitchens on the far side of the Great Hall, and when she caught his eye, he shook his head. All clear still. All they could do was wait.

  When the Great Hall brimmed over with guests and noise, Siv strode to the dais. He clapped his hands to call for attention from the assembly.

  “Thank you all for coming to celebrate my engagement,” he said when the guests had quieted and turned to face him. “It is my great pleasure to introduce you to Lady Tull Denmore, head of the noble House Denmore and the venerable House Ferrington, the next Queen of Vertigon, and my future lady wife.”

  Applause thundered through the crowd, making the glass on the tables shudder. The doors to the Great Hall swept open, and Lady Tull glided in. Six tall, handsome guards in snow-white uniforms accompanied her. Her gown was a pale shade of rose that perfectly matched the blush in her cheeks. She wore a short cape of white fur around her shoulders and a fabulous red Firejewel at her throat. Tiny Firejewels were fastened in her intricately woven hair, piled high on her head. The ensemble made her look taller than she actually was. She looked like a queen.

  The crowd gasped as the beautiful woman stopped a few paces from the center of the Great Hall. Siv strode toward her, confident and grave and handsome. The Firejewels
in his crown flashed in the light from the vines adorning the walls, and his black coat shimmered like fine steel.

  Dara tensed, hand on the hilt of her Savven blade. She kept waiting for the mysterious swordsmen to rush into the room, or for Bolden and his father to step forward and challenge the king. She had been sure they would pick a showy moment like Lady Tull’s entrance to make their move. But Lord Von gazed impassively at the royal couple, and Bolden still hadn’t emerged from his alcove.

  Dara checked the exits. To their credit, the Guardsmen remained alert, rather than being distracted by the storybook scene playing out in the middle of the hall. But there was still no sign of trouble.

  Siv bowed to Lady Tull, and she dropped into an elegant—but not too deep—curtsy. Siv offered her his arm, and she took it, her delicate white hand a striking contrast against his black coat. The king and his lady strode up the center of the hall as women sighed and men stared after them with envy in their eyes.

  Siv’s face was solemn and sure. He escorted Lady Tull to the dais, the six guards in white surrounding them on all sides. Dara searched their faces, but she didn’t recognize any of them. She moved closer, ready to leap in front of the king if Lady Tull’s honor guard tried anything. But still nothing happened.

  Siv and Tull rounded the table on the dais. He pulled out her chair, and she sat, settling onto the cushion like a rose-colored cloud. Then Siv raised his goblet, which was full of water Dara had personally tested for poison.

  “My people,” he said. “Thank you for joining us to celebrate our upcoming union. Let’s raise a toast to my exquisite lady.”

  “Hear! Hear!”

  “To King Sivarrion and Lady Tull!”

  “Long live King Siv!”

  Goblets rose in unison around the room. Dara’s grip tightened on her blade. The Guards scanned the crowd, alert and focused. But still nothing happened.

  Siv glanced over at Dara, his goblet still in the air. She shook her head slightly. Siv’s mouth twitched in response.