by Jordan Rivet
“To Lady Tull!” he called to the assembly and downed his glass. “Now, let us eat!”
The feast was the longest meal Dara had ever endured. While the king and his betrothed dined, she strode around the hall, looking for any sign of the threat she was so sure would materialize tonight. She checked and rechecked the kitchens and the castle courtyard and anywhere else it would be possible for enemies to assault the castle. But everything was exactly as it should be: well guarded and calm.
The Rollendars didn’t appear to be particularly enjoying the feast, but they were nothing more than surly. Dara almost wished they’d get it over with already.
Lady Tull had arranged for a parade of musicians and dancers to entertain the guests as they dined. Dara had asked Vine to vet all of these groups in advance, and she reported that they were all established acts, no more likely to commit treachery than the average Vertigonian. The Guard had inspected each troupe at the gates just in case, but they showed no signs of hidden weapons—or hidden Firepower. They entertained the diners one group at a time then left the Great Hall without causing any trouble.
And still, the Firelights blazed, the nobles ate, the Guards stood ready, and nothing happened.
Dara completed another circuit of the castle, feeling edgy and tense. She couldn’t shake the sense that she was missing something as she returned to her place near the king’s table.
If Siv felt as wary as she did, he hid it well. He played the doting fiancé role perfectly. Lady Tull smiled and laughed and looked every inch the blushing bride. That there was no real connection between Siv and Tull was obvious to Dara, but she wondered if any of the nobles even saw it. The feast progressed just as a royal engagement celebration should.
As the meal drew to a close, noblemen and ladies stood to propose toasts and wish the young couple well. The most eloquent speech of all came from Vine Silltine, who talked about the need for married couples to be in harmony with one another and dance to the same rhythm, like the rhythm of the wind. She winked at Dara when she took her seat, as if Dara should understand whatever the heck Vine was talking about.
Then it was time for the dance. As the first notes filled the Great Hall, Siv invited Lady Tull to the center of the floor. Dara edged as close to them as she could get, standing beside the table bordering the dance floor. A pair of ladies sat at the end of the table: Lady Farrow and Lady Roven, if she wasn’t mistaken. A bit of their conversation reached Dara as the music swelled and the royal couple began to dance.
“They remind me of King Sevren and Queen Tirra,” said Lady Roven.
“Tull is even prettier than Tirra was in her youth,” Lady Farrow replied. “And she’s from Vertigon, no less!”
“Well, if Sivarrion treats his bride anything like his father treated his mother, she’s a lucky woman.”
“She’s a lucky woman anyway.” Lady Farrow chuckled richly. “If I was twenty years younger and there’d been a prince like that on offer, I’d have snapped him up on his eighteenth birthday.”
“Cheers to that.” Lady Roven sighed, watching the couple twirl around the floor. “My Tellen wasn’t nearly as gallant at that age.”
“I expect we’ll have a beautiful royal baby within the year.”
“I’ll take that wager.” Lady Roven raised her wine glass. “I ought to get my Jully married off soon so her offspring can have a chance at the next Amintelle marriage.”
“We must plan ahead.” Lady Farrow clinked her own glass against Lady Roven’s.
Dara scanned the table beyond the two ladies. Noble after noble gazed at the young couple in admiration. They all seemed happy with this turn of events. Could it really be true that any of them would support the Rollendars if they moved against the king? Von and Bolden were nowhere near as popular as Siv, especially with Tull at his side. What on earth made Tull think this wasn’t the best match she could ever make? For a moment Dara doubted what she’d seen at Lady Atria’s greathouse. Had she misunderstood them? No. Bolden and Tull had been talking about when to make their move. And they had acted quite familiarly. It seemed unlikely that Tull would hold Bolden’s hand and stand as close to him as she had been unless she wasn’t intending to go through with her royal engagement. What was Dara missing?
Siv and Lady Tull danced alone for the first song, but when the music changed the other nobles stood to select partners for the traditional First Dance. At royal feasts in Vertigon, the nobles always used the First Dance to shore up alliances by dancing with the wives and daughters of men with whom they wanted to curry favor. It was a way to express friendship and admiration for potential business partners.
Dara watched for any strange movements, but the usual shuffle of invitations commenced without incident. More couples swept out onto the floor, gossip following in their wake. The king and his lady still danced, elegance personified.
Wind howled outside the tall, narrow windows of the Great Hall, drawing Dara’s attention. Ice had begun to coat the glass. The snowfall thickened. Most of the mountain was invisible, cloaked in frost. But the Fire-infused vines decorating the room kept the celebration contained within a bubble of warmth and light.
As the blizzard sighed against the windows, Dara turned back to the hall. Bolden Rollendar was striding her way. She tensed, hand on her blade, and checked to make sure Siv was still safe in the center of the dance floor. Then she met Bolden’s eyes. She hadn’t spoken directly to him in a long time. Though he’d been welcoming when she encountered him as Siv’s friend at Lady Atria’s, he was the type of man to look right through guards and servants.
But Bolden didn’t look through her or walk past her. Instead, he stopped, bowed, and offered her his hand.
“Miss Ruminor. May I have the First Dance?”
“With me?” Dara blurted.
“Indeed.” Bolden’s eyes never left her face. “It would honor me to dance with our king’s favorite Castle Guard, our city’s favorite female duelist, and our favorite Lantern Maker’s daughter.”
Dara didn’t want to break eye contact, feeling that it would be the equivalent of losing a duel to Bolden, but she had to check that the Guards were still in position and the king was safe. When she looked back, Bolden waited with his hand outstretched, a slight smirk on his lips.
“Very well,” she said. She had to know what this was about. No one offered the First Dance without a good reason. She took Bolden’s hand. It was as cold as ice, and just as hard.
They danced at the edge of the floor, drawing only a few curious eyes. Most people not dancing watched the engaged couple spin gracefully across the room. Bolden was a precise dancer. He executed each step perfectly, but Dara felt as if she were dancing with a piece of steel. She was torn between needing to watch over the hall and wanting to stare Bolden down and figure out what he was trying to accomplish here. How did dancing with a member of the Castle Guard win him any political capital, no matter how well known she had become?
He didn’t speak at first, but he studied Dara as if she were a mijen game he was determined to win. His hair was messy, and he hadn’t bothered to button up his scarlet coat. His breath smelled of brandy, though not as thickly as she would have expected given how long he had supposedly spent chugging from his flask in the alcove. He seemed plenty alert.
Finally, Bolden spoke. “It’s been interesting to see what you’ve done with the Castle Guard.”
“Has it.”
“They certainly draw the eye.” He glanced down at the sigil embroidered on the breast of Dara’s trim blue coat. “And they appear to be as loyal to you as they are to the crown.”
“They do their jobs well.”
“Indeed.” The song ended, but Bolden did not release Dara’s hand. “Another dance?”
“My lord.”
Bolden moved as the music picked up, faster this time. He guided her around the floor with a firm hand on her back.
“So help me understand, Miss Ruminor,” Bolden mused as they spun across the dance floor. �
��You hand-selected a Guard full of your dueling friends. You enlisted your own coach to train them. You made our king their patron and allowed them to continue competing. By all accounts it’s a dream position for any duelist, especially since they’re unlikely to see much real danger. We are in Vertigon after all.” Dara’s eyes flickered up to meet Bolden’s, but his expression gave nothing away. “So tell me: why didn’t you invite Kelad Korran, the one duelist who I know beyond a shadow of a doubt is your friend, to benefit from this dream job?”
Dara fought desperately to keep her expression neutral, even as ice wrapped a fist around her heart. He knew.
“You must have offered him the opportunity,” Bolden continued. “It’s what any friend would do. The way I see it, the only reason you wouldn’t give our friend Kel the chance to join the New Guard is if you had another job in mind for him. Perhaps a job that involved snooping.” Bolden’s voice lowered to a whisper, and he pulled Dara closer, his skin cold against hers. “Around my father’s estate, for example.”
“Kel already had a patron,” Dara said, fighting to keep her voice steady. “He wasn’t interested in joining the Guard.”
“Oh, I doubt that very much. You see, Kelad is in my father’s custody. It turns out he’s not as stealthy a spy as he thought.”
Dara tensed. She knew it would give her away, but she couldn’t help it. Bolden’s smirk deepened. His breath was a hiss in her ear.
“He’ll tell us everything. My father can be very persuasive.”
Dara fought to keep her heart rate down. What had Von Rollendar done to Kel?
And Bolden wasn’t finished. “As you can imagine, I was rather annoyed when I realized Kel had repaid my patronage with treachery. He would still be living in a slum on Square if I hadn’t recognized his potential and decided to sponsor him.” Bolden’s grip tightened painfully on Dara’s hand. “I was also annoyed that he compromised some rather carefully laid plans.” He looked pointedly around the hall, where the feast continued in peace, the Guard ever vigilant.
“That must be frustrating for you,” Dara said. She twisted her hand out of Bolden’s grip. She didn’t want to be in this man’s arms for a second longer. She clutched her sword hilt, waiting for him to say the words that would give her a reason to arrest him.
But Bolden simply inclined his head and said, “It was at first. But instead I’ve decided on a different plan, one that has been much longer in the works. It will be a bit more dramatic, but then our people love a good show. Thank you for the dance, Miss Ruminor.”
Bolden bowed like a gentleman and left her on the dance floor. With a nod to his father, he strode out of the hall. Von Rollendar immediately abandoned his own dance partner and followed his son out. Dara jerked her head at Oat, who hurried after them.
She spun around, scanning the hall, expecting enemies to burst in at any second. But the doors remained secure and guarded. She reached out with her senses, but the amount of Fire in the hall remained stable, still burning steadily from those decorative vines.
Siv must have noticed the worry on her face, for his steps slowed even though the music did not. He met her eyes over the top of Lady Tull’s head, and she could only shake her head. She wasn’t sure what was going on.
Then the quick pound of footsteps sounded in the entrance hall, and the door burst open. But instead of the flood of mysterious trained swordsmen they had been expecting all night, Telvin Jale charged into the hall alone.
“Square Peak burns!” he called. “The mountain is on fire!”
29.
The Mountain
CONFUSION spread rapidly through the Great Hall at Jale’s announcement. Siv dropped Tull’s hand and grabbed his sword, immediately looking to Dara. Her eyes were fixed on the decorative vines tracing the walls. Abruptly, she turned on her heel and darted for the nearest window looking eastward to Square Peak. Siv left Tull in the middle of the dance floor and rushed after her.
“What’s going on?” he asked, skidding to a halt by Dara’s side.
“I didn’t feel it because of all the Fire in here,” she said. She pressed her hands to the glass, the ice melting off it faster than should have been possible. “Look at Square.”
Snow swirled in the air outside the castle windows, but through the fuzz of ice, Square Peak was starkly outlined against the cloudy sky. Fire blazed in a solid wall around it, with a halo glowing in the mists above. At first Siv thought it was a wildfire, but it didn’t have the untamed shape of a random inferno. This was Fire, a solid thing, holding Square Peak hostage within a glowing ring. Snow disappeared into steam as it fell onto the fiery wall, which had to be at least thirty feet tall. It was clear at a glance that no one could pass through the barrier to reach the peak. And no one on the peak would be able to leave.
The nobles gathered at the windows or hurried out into the entryway, no doubt rushing to the eastern portico, where there was a good view of Square Peak. The musicians abandoned their instruments and pressed their faces against the glass with the others.
“Bolden changed the plan,” Dara said. “He found out about my spy.”
Siv grimaced. So much for ambushing their attackers.
“What’s his next move?”
Telvin Jale rushed up to join them before Dara could respond.
“The Rollendars have left the castle,” he said. “Oat is following them down the peak. The moment they reached the steps that flaming wall shot out of the mountain all the way around Square.”
“Thank you, Jale.”
“What are your orders, Sire?” he asked, his composure slipping a hair. “The whole army is behind that wall!”
Siv exchanged glances with Dara. They hadn’t shared their suspicions about the army with anyone else on the Guard. But Siv had also decided not to let too many soldiers leave Square tonight because he didn’t know how many were under Pavorran’s corrupting influence. He’d asked Berg to stay over there too and keep an eye out for any strange movements. Now, if any of the soldiers had planned to stay on his side, they were stuck. Stupid. He had been so stupid.
“We need to get these people back to their homes,” Siv said, looking around at the nobles in all their finery. They didn’t need to be in the middle of this. “Jale, have the Guard escort my guests down to Lower King’s in groups. Advise those who keep their greathouses on the other peaks to find lodgings on King’s. I don’t want anyone crossing the bridges tonight.”
“Yes, my king.” Jale leapt to obey, signaling for more of the Guard to join him.
“Dara.”
“Sire?”
“Make sure my sister gets safely to her rooms, then meet me back here.”
Dara hesitated, as if she wanted to stay by his side, but then she snapped off a salute and darted toward Sora, who was busily reassuring a cluster of teenage noblewomen that everything would be okay.
Siv returned to the center of the hall and climbed the dais. Four Guardsmen moved in around him, including Pool at his right hand. He felt oddly calm. They would finally find out the exact nature of the threat against him. For better or worse, this ended tonight.
“I must ask you all to return to your homes,” Siv called out to his guests. “My Guard will make sure you get there safely while we assess this new threat. Please remain calm.”
The lords and ladies were anything but calm. They gathered up spouses and children and hurried toward the doors. Some muttered about the Fireworkers finally rising up, others said the true dragons had returned, and a few even suggested Soole had come to invade. Some eyed the Fire threading the walls suspiciously, but the decorations didn’t jump down to attack them. A far greater power burned on the other peak anyway.
“King Sivarrion,” a soft, feminine voice rang out, somehow managing to be heard over the chatter. “I have a message for you.”
Lady Tull approached the dais, her pale rose dress swirling behind her. Her six white-clad guards surrounded her, weapons drawn. The Castle Guard moved in around them, not lett
ing them get any closer. A few nobles slowed to listen, if only because the jam at the doors was making it impossible to leave as quickly as they would like. Lady Tull gazed across the hall at Siv, head held high, and ignored the commotion.
“And what is that, my lady?” Siv said softly.
“The reign of the Amintelles is at an end,” Lady Tull said. “The Firewielders holding Square are capable of scouring the entire surface of the peak with their wall of Fire. If you abdicate your throne on behalf of House Amintelle, they will withdraw. If you do not, they will burn Square Peak and its inhabitants into nothing.” Lady Tull looked at the armed guards around the hall. “If you kill me, it will change nothing.”
Siv stared at her for a long time. The final people fleeing through the doors carried Lady Tull’s message with them. Within minutes, the whole of King’s Peak would know the choice he had been given. Or rather, the lack of choice. His head seemed full of mist and smoke. The entire peak. One third of his realm. Destroyed. Burned beyond recovery. No, this was no choice at all.
Despite her icy threat, Tull looked pale, and she bit her lip until it was as white as her fur cape.
“I am not going to kill you, Tull,” Siv said.
Lady Tull blinked. “Throughout our short engagement,” she said, “I’ve observed that you care more for the good of the mountain than for anything else in the world. If you walk away from the throne, not one Vertigonian will be harmed. You have until dawn. I will await your answer at the Fire Guild.”
She turned to go. Her guards, blades drawn, glared menacingly at the New Guard, daring them to stop her.
“Who would take the throne?” Siv asked. “If I surrender to your demands?”
Lady Tull looked back, a small smile on her delicate mouth. “You must know the answer to that.”
Siv sighed. “Indeed. Tell Rollendar he will have his answer at dawn.”
He raised a hand to his guards, and they allowed Lady Tull to leave the hall. The last of the nobles departed on her heels. Some, Siv was sure, had been in on the plot—or at least had promised not to interfere—but he didn’t detain them. It wouldn’t make any difference at this point. They had one of his peaks, and he had no army. Even his well-trained Guard could do nothing against a wall of Fire.