by Nyna Queen
“Cassius. Please.”
Well, wasn’t she honored?
“Cassius.” Alex let a little blush rise into her cheeks and gestured toward the view. “I’ve never been to a place quite so”—she searched for words—“… sublime.”
“Yes, I must admit that the Royal Palace is beyond compare,” Roukewood agreed. “I’m afraid my own castle cannot keep up with it, and neither can any other I’ve seen.”
“You have a castle, my lord?”
He waved a hand. “Castle would be an exaggeration … Summer residence. It has nowhere near the grandeur of this place, but it does have its perks. Anyway”—he waved his hand again and laughed softly—“we’re not here to talk about my possessions, are we?”
Alex wasn’t too sure about that.
The senator rested his hands on the parapet and she saw her chance.
“That is an extraordinary ring, my lord.” She nodded toward the ivy leaf-shaped gold ring he was wearing on his left middle finger.
His hand twitched a little. His fingers curled and he ran his thumb over the thick golden band, before holding it out for her to study.
“A family heirloom,” he said. “It … belonged to my father before he died. The ivy leaf has been the crest of my family for a long time, an homage to our ancestors who strengthened the bloodline and raised it into the ranks of the great royal dynasties of our time.” A pained smile flashed across his features. “It symbolizes … a lot to me.”
“I’m sorry, my lord,” Alex said dutifully. “I didn’t mean to stir painful memories.”
“Don’t be, lady. A lot of time has passed since then, but those wounds never really heal. We have to live with them our whole lives. They just become easier to bear.”
Alex found it hard to imagine the cold, calculating senator as the grief-stricken son weeping at his father’s grave, but people were rarely as one-dimensional as they appeared. In real life, it wasn’t either saint or sinner. In any case, it had been a good speech.
Alex concentrated her senses on the rings, but with the strong magic of the wards saturating the air around them, it was hard to tell if they contained any magic themselves.
Before she could reach out to touch them, the now dark sky above the gardens exploded. It was a completely silent explosion of blinding white light, fed by heavy magic, that blossomed like a bursting star.
Alex jerked away from the parapet, about to seek cover, when she noted Roukewood hadn’t moved at all.
“It’s the Illuminum, my lady,” he said with a benign smile. “No need to worry.”
Feeling rather foolish, Alex returned to his side. She could hear the sound of applause coming from the other guests in the garden.
Roukewood leaned in closer, his lips almost touching her ear.
“Watch.”
When he pulled back, his fingers brushed against hers, almost as if by accident. Alex stiffened. Inside her, the spider snarled. She glanced at the senator but he just smiled and nodded at the sky.
Alex followed his gaze and forgot whatever she had been thinking. In the dark, the light was flaring again, accompanied by the high, operatic voice of a woman. It surged and fell like the tides, the wordless tones winding around each other, flowing and bending, while the night sky pulsed in time with the song, as if the music was breathing life into the stars themselves, which were now writing their stories upon the black velvet screen of the night.
It was like nothing Alex had ever witnessed before. The fireworks at the halfborn festivals seemed pitiful compared to this, all ghastly smells and deafening noise. This, on the other hand, was majestic and ethereal, magical in every sense of the word, and Alex felt herself being swept away by the emotions of the haunting song.
Finally, the last lights in the sky winked out, leaving behind a deep, awed silence.
Despite herself, Alex felt a thick lump in her throat.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Roukewood’s soft voice broke the lingering silence, reminding her where she was. And with whom.
She swallowed.
“Milord, I’m … speechless.”
He let out a soft, self-satisfied chuckle. “Then I have achieved my goal, lady. I assume their majesties are entering the palace as we speak and after their reception, the dance will continue.” He paused, casting a slant-eyed glance at her. “I see you have a penchant for the dance, my lady? I couldn’t help but notice you on the dance floor … Color me impressed.”
It seemed like a casual comment, something that had just come to his mind, and if she hadn’t spoken to Darken, she would probably have dismissed it as idle interest. Now, however … now she noticed the sharp attention as he watched her out of the corner of his eye. Not just an idle question. Oh no.
Tread carefully, sugar.
“My great aunt sent me to a renowned dance school in my teens and I’ve developed quite a passion for it,” Alex said and then, deciding to push the subject, added, “But to be quite honest, my lord, when you have a good partner, it is rather hard for the woman to cut a poor figure.”
“Then you had the luck of having a lot of good partners this evening.”
“My lord, you flatter me.” But we both know exactly who I was talking about, sugar, don’t we?
As if reading her thoughts, Roukewood said, almost as if daring her to deny it, “I thought I saw you dancing with Darken Forfeit as well, yes? I wasn’t aware that the senator’s brother is such a keen dancer himself.”
Heh! Darken was right. It was chewing on him. Well, she’d give him a bit more to chew on.
“Neither was I,” Alex said. “I’ve never seen him dance before. But when asked me … well, he is the son of my benefactor. It would have been rather rude to decline.”
One of Roukewood’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “So it does not bother you at all? Considering … what he is?”
Alex shrugged one bare shoulder, registering how his attention fixed on the movement. “I know people say a lot about his kind, but he has never treated me with anything but perfect courtesy.”
Roukewood cleared his throat. “Forgive me for being frank yet again, but … men sometimes do a lot of things to conceal their … true intentions”—Yeah, you would know, wouldn’t you?—“and with a lady as, excuse the term, inexperienced as yourself …”
The insult to Darken burned in her chest, but Alex let her anger out with a gentle, unconcerned laugh. “Why, my lord, you almost sound concerned about my virtues.”
A small hungry spark flashed in his eyes, before he quickly covered it, but Alex saw it nonetheless.
Oh, Rookie, you sleek bastard, you!
He put a hand to his chest, an expression of perfect dismay on his face. “Any noble-minded man in my place would doubtlessly concur.”
He was good. Alex smiled. “I appreciate your concern, but I assume you didn’t invite me up here just to talk about Lord Dubois’ brother, did you?”
“Indeed, I did not.” Roukewood clasped his hands behind his back again. “To be quite honest with you, I was wondering if you already have a seating partner for the banquet tomorrow night? I would assume that a lady like you is swamped with invitations, no doubt?”
Alex tried to hide her surprise. So this was what this was all about? The pecking order at the big dinner? Now, that came as a surprise. A surprise, but a welcome one. She could almost hear Stephane cheering her on. They had been racking their brains over how they were going to get close to Roukewood and their other suspects for the dinner and now he was inviting her? This was a chance in a thousand. She had to do this right.
Alex quickly went through her options and decided to play dumb.
“Oh, I did get a few requests,” she told him lightly, making sure that it sounded as if she was just too humble to admit how many. Couldn’t hurt to have him think that she could have her fair pick—and, in fact, she had already received a good number of invitations today. “But I haven’t made up my mind yet. Just between us, I’m not sure how to choose when it
means I would have to decline the other invites …”
“I’ll make it easy for you then. You’ll decline them all. Instead, you shall sit with me … at the prime’s table of honor.”
“With—? Milord!” Alex made huge eyes at him. “That’s—That would be too much of an honor. I’m way too far below your station. I cannot possibly accept.”
Roukewood frowned a little. Not used to being made sweat. “Please, allow me the liberty.”
“I am flattered, but I still must decline, unless, of course, you insist …”
“In that case, I do.”
“Well, then, I suppose I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
He smiled but it had a slightly threatening edge to it. “No, you don’t, my dear.”
“In that case, I would be most honored to accept your request.”
“The honor is all mine, lady.” Roukewood bowed. “I will relay your decision to the steward and make sure they register you for the right seat.”
Not taking any chances, huh?
He checked his horanium iactari. “Alas, it’s almost time for the prime and prima’s grand entry. We should take our assigned positions for the toast.”
He held out his arm and Alex placed her hand on it. Side by side, they strolled back to the tower, past the vacuous painting—“It’s almost a shame, isn’t it, to put a Rivera in such a remote location,” Roukewood said with a pitiful glance at the painting—and into the machina ascendere.
When they reached the ground corridor, Senator Roukewood took Alex’s hand and kissed it, his lips lingering on her skin for far longer than necessary. “It’s been a pleasure, lady, to share this experience with you. I’m looking forward to continuing our acquaintance.”
So am I, bastard, Alex thought as she watched him strut away, that smug, self-satisfied smile still on his face. So am I.
She moved her shoulders, trying to shake off the invasive feeling of his touch and failing.
Great! Darken had been right. Now he would be more insufferable than ever.
WHEN Alex left the corridor and came into the ballroom, she stepped into what could only be called “controlled chaos.” Lords and ladies were running to and fro, trying to get to their positions. Servants were instructing people, pointing them in the right directions, checking cards, and, in between, trying not to get trampled by the masses that had suddenly begun to move, like a bear who had woken from hibernation and could smell honey.
“Lexy!”
Alex searched for the source of the call.
“Lexy!” Bonny waved at her and squeezed herself through a gap between two lords running in opposite directions. She caught her breath. Her cheeks were flushed, almost matching her hair in color. “Lexy, there you are. Spill! Who was it and what did he want?”
Alex didn’t see a point in lying. Tomorrow, people would know anyway.
“It was Senator Roukewood. His lordship invited me to sit with him during the banquet tomorrow.”
Bonny’s jaw dropped. “Good gracious!” She clutched Alex’s arm. “No way! How—”
A brassy fanfare blared through the hall, drowning out her words. Bony squealed, clutching Alex’s arm even tighter, her fingers digging painfully into her skin.
“He’s coming! The prime is coming!” She fanned her face. “How do I look?”
Alex raised a teasing eyebrow. “Don’t you think he’s a bit old for you? Not to mention married …”
“Oh, you!” Bony playfully slapped her arm, blushing even deeper. “It’s not like that. It’s just … he’s a legend.”
Darken materialized beside them. He gave Bonny a polite nod, who seemed to be on the verge of fainting, then turned to Alex.
“Lady de Nuy, you are to stand with my family for the toast. The boxes assigned the senators and their families are upstairs. My brother asked me to escort you.”
A second fanfare sounded. Bonny jumped.
“Ohhh, I also need to get to my position!” She waved to the end of the ballroom close to the doors where people were lining up in two rows to welcome the prime and his wife. “But you must tell me everything later,” she called over her shoulder as she scurried away, “and don’t you dare omit any of the saucy details.” She vanished in the flowing crowd, leaving Alex with Darken.
Now it was Darken’s eyebrow that curved upward. “Saucy details?”
Alex gave him a withering glance. “She thinks I’ve been meeting a secret admirer.” Which, apparently, wasn’t that far from the truth. “Don’t we have somewhere to be?”
“Of course.” Darken performed a mocking bow. “This way, milady.”
He guided her up a flight of red-carpeted stairs into a corridor lined with curtain-covered doorways that led to the boxes. Around them, people were filing into their assigned spaces.
“So,” Darken murmured softly, “since you’re still in once piece I assume it was not an ambush?”
Funny, aren’t we, Mr. Trueborn?
Alex gritted her teeth. She really didn’t want to confirm his theory but there was no way she would be able to keep this from him, either. She sighed. “He asked me to be his seating partner for the banquet tomorrow. At the prime’s table of honor.”
Darken blinked in surprise. “Did he, now?” His lips slowly curved into a lazy smile. “Didn’t I tell you it would work?”
“Could you possibly gloat a bit more?”
“I could.”
Prick!
Alex rolled her eyes. “Well, don’t be so smug about it. This could have gone hellishly wrong, too.”
“No, it couldn’t.”
Ah, the arrogance! If smugness had a face it would be that of Darken Dubois-Léclaire.
He shrugged. “It was rather obvious he was smitten.”
“Smitten’s all fine and dandy,” Alex muttered as they neared the end of the corridor; the boxes that had to be closest to the thrones. “But now I’ll be forced to sit beside him during an entire dinner and make conversation. What exactly am I going to talk about?”
Darken shrugged again. “Just charm him into telling you all his secrets.”
Alex bared her teeth at him. “In case you haven’t noticed—I’m not really the charming kind of woman.”
“That hasn’t escaped my notice.”
Alex opened her mouth to tell him to go screw himself when Darken stopped at a doorway and held the heavy purple curtain aside for her.
As she entered, Alex caught a glimpse of a group of servants coming down the corridor in single file, each carrying an empty tray and taking their position in front of the doors.
The box was indeed like in a theater: a little room to mingle; a row of plush chairs facing toward the ballroom; a slim wooden bar for snacks and drinks attached to the curved banister.
The others were already there: Stephane and Edalyne, Tyler, her Priggishness Heloise, and, last but not least, Josy.
The girl grinned at her, making a discreet thumbs up sign behind her grandmother’s back. Alex winked at her.
An excited buzz filled the ballroom. Down below, people had lined up in two rows, forming a human aisle that led from the doors toward the thrones at the back of the ballroom. A few stragglers were still hurrying to take their places in the lane.
An older servant with a tight gray bun and a no-nonsense attitude poked her head into the box. “My lords. Ladies. How many drinks will be required?”
“Six,” Edalyne said sharply with a pointed look at Josy, who’s mouth had started to open. The girl closed her mouth with a snap, looking sullen. Alex bit back a grin.
The servant nodded. “My pleasure.” She vanished.
Darken made his way over to Stephane, whispering something into his ear. Alex hastened to join them, just to make sure she wouldn’t end up anywhere near the old shrew. Come to think of it, she’d rather not stand beside Tyler, either.
“… has caught his eye, it would appear,” Darken was just saying, so quietly, she only heard it because of her sharp shaper senses. “It
will also be a slap in your face, brother. People consider her ‘your discovery’ and everybody will understand that Roukewood is thumbing his nose at you when he presents her as his companion for the banquet.”
Stephane nodded with a grim expression. “I can suffer a little humiliation as long as it helps us unravel this conspiracy.” He frowned. “However, I better prepare a statement in response, to keep the political repercussions at a minimum. Perhaps a rather benevolent approach …”
He fell silent because another servant had entered the box. His tray held six small, delicate glasses containing a slug of a clear, blue-tinted liquid.
“Spiced elder spirit,” Stephane said as he noticed Alex’s inquiring expression. “The traditional drink for the welcoming toast. Dates way back to ancient times when the first warrior clans of the continent allegedly welcomed their chiefs after a victorious battle over their enemies. As you can see,” his mouth twisted into a thin, sardonic smile, “we are an awfully conventional lot.”
Tell me about it!
The servant walked through the box, handing each of them a glass. Alex accepted hers with a nod and reluctantly sniffed the content. The strong, biting fumes of alcohol immediately prickled the inside of her nostrils, eliciting a shudder from her. Most prominent was the characteristically treacly-sweet and yet tangy smell of the elderflower. And what else was that? Green pepper? Oh well, she already knew this wasn’t ever going to be her poison of choice.
When the servant turned to Stephane with the last glass, somehow his foot caught on a chair, and he stumbled. He wobbled almost comically as he tried to regain his balance, failed, and the precious liquid splashed all over the front of Stephane’s gold-and-white silk doublet.
Silence filled the box. The servant, who had managed to salvage the glass on the tray, turned white as a sheet.
“M-my lord!” He gasped and rushed forward, hands in the air as though he was about to touch Stephane, then realizing how inappropriate that would be, he froze. “I-I’m exceptionally sorry, my lord!” From the look on his face, he was expecting to be executed on the spot.