by Queen, Nyna
Today’s version of this ancient ritual was a little less quaint but certainly made up for it with grandeur. As soon as the Flower Maidens were in position, a cart was wheeled forward and each girl received a huge bouquet of flowers which, from the looks of them, had most likely been cultured and pre-arranged by some renowned gardener rather than picked in a forest meadow. She recognized the glowing pink grapes of fireweed, followed by orange poppies, yellow irises, tiny blue forget-me-nots—the symbol of faithfulness and true love—deep blue hyacinths, and, finally, violet harebells. A rainbow of colors, shockingly bright against the purity of the white dresses and horses.
Behind the girls came a group of performers dressed in black bodysuits and cloaks sequined with garish shades of gold and red so that when they moved, flames seemed to ripple up and down their bodies. They were followed by the musicians, an entire orchestra featuring ancient drums and fiddles, lyres and flutes. The musicians were costumed as well, clad in pieces of fabric of all colors between green and brown, silver and gold, adorned with flowers, twigs, leaves, moss, feathers and horns. Their daring make-up transformed them into mythical creatures sprung from deep inside the forest’s heart, terrifying and beautiful. Nature’s spirits made flesh for an otherworldly celebration.
Josy touched Alex’s hand. “Come. We’re last.”
They mounted their horses and rode to the back where the historical riders were gathering. To their side, Alex noted a man on foot carrying a long wooden pole with a widening top adorned with an arcane silver glyph. It looked like a sigil, which meant that it would work some kind of magic when activated. Alex scanned the procession and saw more pole-bearers among them.
Definitely sigils. But what—?
Magic punched Alex in the gut. It flared like an umbrella being snapped open, covering the entire procession, dousing them with a waterfall of magic that wasn’t wet but left a memory of sharp prickles on her skin. Her hackles rose. What in the name of the Great Mother—?
The soft beat of a single drum echoed across the clearing, low and rhythmic. Softly, silently, a silver mist rose from the meadow around them, shivering and dancing between them in wisps of ghostly breath.
Alex caught her breath.
The mist shrouded them, winding around them in a veil of shimmering silver magic.
The drum was joined by another and another until the ground softly vibrated with their sound, like the heartbeat of the world itself. A flute splashed in a mellow sound, ethereal and light, complemented by joyful pipes and fiddles that rose into a full symphony, the song of the forest, saturated with the gush of water, the sweet laughter of flowers, and the smile of the sun. A song of dreams and wishes woven together, murmuring of peace and desire and of a never-ending cycle of life and death.
Goosebumps ran up and down Alex’s arms, leaving every inch of her trembling with an unknown yearning.
Without any visible signal, the procession started moving forward. Alex didn’t need to do anything but let Moonsilver pick her pace among the other horses. They rode out of the clearing and down the alley, carried by the music, and where their horses’ hooves touched the ground small clouds of gold dust scattered in the air.
The music wound around her, joyful and heartbreaking at the same time, and for a moment Alex felt swept away by it, as if she were part of something bigger, something truly magical.
Josy cast her a sidelong glance. “Are you actually smiling, Alexandre?”
“Just blinded by the sunlight.” Alex raised her hand to shield her eyes for emphasis. “So bright.”
“My mistake,” Josy said, but Alex saw her hide a grin.
After about a mile, the forest gave way and the alley opened toward a beautiful lake sheathed in reeds and weeping willows at the edge of a vast estate. Behind it, well-maintained trails and tiny groves gently rose up to a stately old stone mansion perched on the top of the hill. Built of pale stone, its stained glass windows and the steepled glass roof between two massive stone towers reflected the sun like a giant diamond. The mansion was overgrown with vine, like some dreamy ruin in an enchanted garden.
A crowd of people in summer dresses and suits with lots of children among them had already gathered by the lake to watch the spectacle, forming an aisle along the path that led toward the lake’s shore.
They broke into applause when the silver mist spilled out from between the trees, gushing into the clearing, and their procession emerged from it, breathed into existence by the spirits of the forest and floating on wings of golden fairy dust.
The performers took it as their cue and started spinning and twirling wildly, becoming encased in roaring flames, causing a collateral intake of breath.
The performer at the front reached into a hidden pocket in her cloak and extracted a fistful of glittering dust which she blew at the crowd. In the air, the dust exploded into hundreds of tiny, jewel-colored butterflies that fluttered around before transforming into candy that fell to the ground. Children squealed and cheered and dropped down on their knees to scoop up as many as they could hold, stuffing their faces and yelling, “More, more, more.” The other performers needed no second invitation.
The Flower Maidens at the front were smiling serenely and waving and blowing kisses at the audience.
As they neared the lake, Alex noticed a freshly dug mound of earth between two magnificent apple trees with a hollow at the top of it.
The procession halted.
Alex craned her neck to get a better view of what was happening.
Servants rushed forward to take the reins of the Flower Maidens’ horses, helping them dismount. Single file, the young women solemnly approached the mound of earth to the sound of the music, until they were standing in a circle around the hollow. The first one raised her flowers to the sky in gesture of an offering and then gently placed it in the hole. The others followed her example. Inside the hollow, the circle of flowers formed a rainbow iris that was looking up at the summer sky.
The drums picked up again, more urgent, pounding wildly, vibrating in the blood. The Flower Maidens linked hands and, on an invisible cue, thrust them into the sky. The drums stopped with a thundering finale, and the mist and the enchanted butterflies exploded into puffs of golden glitter.
The audience went wild, clapping and cheering, and little children raced around, jumping up and down, trying to catch the sparks.
Alex glanced around, half expecting a mythical sea creature to rise from the middle of the lake but instead, the crowd scattered as people made their way up the hill. The riders were turning their horses away.
Alex frowned. “That’s it?”
After the bombastic opening and all the fuss, the finale felt a bit … meh.
Josy blinked. “Oh no, that was just the preparation,” she said quickly. “The actual ritual takes place at sunset.”
Figured. Magic hour or some such. “And what exactly is gonna happen at sunset?”
Josy shook her head and chuckled mischievously. “I won’t spoil the surprise for you, Alexandre.”
Alex rolled her eyes. Well, she supposed a big bonfire would have more effect at dusk.
Josy grinned and nudged her mare forward. “Come, let’s go to the stables.”
CHAPTER NINE
IMMENSELY glad to finally get rid of her horse, Alex dumped the mare on the stable crew, went to her assigned chamber in the mansion, took a quick shower and then paced the room while she waited for Edalyne and Josy to come over and help her prepare for the actual event, all the while promising herself that she would never, never, never mount a horse in her life ever again.
When her two-women help crew was finally satisfied with her looks, they left to get the warpaint on themselves, and Alex reluctantly made her way down through the glass-covered atrium hall connecting the two flanking aisles where the guest rooms were located.
She would have preferred to wait for the others in her room, but since Devilier and Roukewood were supposedly also at the Midsummer Festival, this was a
golden opportunity to gather more information—and they had none to waste.
The carved wooden door at the mansion’s backside opened to the park which was said to have the biggest variety of flowers in the entire country. Once a military training base, Canterbury Estate had been turned into a war museum and a historical archive under monumental protection after the war. Except for once a year when it was transformed into a boarding house for the royal guests of the Flora Canis Rae, the annual Midsummer Festival of the Southern Provinces which took place on the day before Midsummer Night. Edalyne had mentioned that the Sauniers and other sponsoring families of the festival paid quite a fortune to the Republic’s Department on Conservation to be allowed to host the event at this location.
Beyond a small terrace decorated with a stone fountain of a halfway submerged maiden spilling water from a clay jug, a couple of ancient stone steps led down to the gardens.
Alex paused on the tread for a second, stunned by the view. Before her stretched a small idyllic paradise. Combed sand paths threaded their way in all directions, circling around little green groves and clusters of brightly colored pavilions with big cooling sigils. Underneath the pavilions, chairs and tables had been erected and people were eating, drinking, and talking. At the far bottom of the hill, the lake where the flower procession had ended, winked at her, a small speck of silver glass among the greens. The only thing that didn’t fit the peaceful picture was the large number of armed guards patrolling the perimeter in small groups.
Alex’s gaze inadvertently rose to the nearly invisible shapes of the small, bluish mountains at the horizon, their violet peaks all but getting lost in the misty distance.
That was where Darken would be waiting for her.
Anxiety unloaded a sharp shot into her veins, and Alex had to keep herself from clutching her skirt.
Since Belaris had had to return to the Order before his absence rose any suspicion, Darken had come up with the utterly ingenious idea that he would visit Maria P. Carvalis all by himself. When he had informed the rest of them of his plan, Alex had given him an—admittedly rather crude—piece of her mind. Words like ‘testosterone-controlled, cock-driven schmuck’ had fallen, and Heloise had had to have a lie-down.
All right, perhaps her choice of words hadn’t been the most … sensitive, but everything she’d said had complete merit. It was an incomparably stupid idea! The Master’s operations were somehow linked to this place, and to assume one could just walk in there without encountering any trouble was beyond naive. If Alex realized that, so must Darken. But no, he had to be chivalrous, trying to keep the rest of them out of harm’s way.
What if something happened to him? Aside from the fact that he might not get the chance to report back to them, Alex simply couldn’t bear the thought that he got hurt just because of a stupid male ego trip.
He needed someone to back him up. Period. And with Belaris gone, she and her shaper abilities were the best suited for the job.
Even Darken hadn’t been able to argue around her logic, but it had still taken quite a while to convince him. Stephane strongly agreeing with her had tipped the scale.
Alex’s feeling of victory had been short-lived, though, and had turned into frustration when they entered into the planning stage. She would have been perfectly happy to just sneak out with Darken in the dead of night in a cloak-and-dagger operation and chance their way through the country. But everybody, including Darken, opposed that plan. Seriously, if Slobber had a voice, Alex suspected the dog would have voted against her, too.
According to Belaris’ intelligence, Maria P. Carvalis was located up in Duncan’s Teeth, a mountain range at the western border to Tharsis. Without using magical transportation, which was out of bounds if they wanted to avoid detection at all cost, it would be a trip of at least three days one way, more if they only travelled at night.
The others weren’t so much worried she and Darken would be spotted—after all they were both masters of moving under the radar—but they were afraid that their combined absence might be noticed by someone.
Since Darken was still the main suspect in Ferhus’ murder case, the guardaí were keeping tabs on him, and regular patrols scoured the neighborhood. Even more worrying though was the fact that they still hadn’t identified the informant who had provided the Master with the information for the abduction attempt on Josepha and Maxwell. If he—or she—got wind that both Alex and Darken had left the house for unknown reasons, he might consider it an interesting tidbit to report back to the Master.
Alex couldn’t deny that the others had a point there. If Lady Alexandre de Nuy was suspected to be collaborating with Darken Dubois-Léclaire in any way, it would provoke questions about her. Questions that might lead to her exposure. Not to mention that their mission would be in great jeopardy.
In the end, it was agreed that they needed an airtight alibi for her, so that even if Darken’s absence was discovered, there would be no way Alex could be associated with it.
The opportunity presented itself sooner than expected in the form of an invitation sent by Elizabeth Saunier. It arrived on the afternoon of the day after Darken had visited Blayde in the Pacified Zone, inviting the Dubois family—and Lady de Nuy—to the Midsummer Festival at Canterbury Estate. As the estate was very close to the Tharsian border, it brought them within thirty-five miles of the location where, according to Belaris’ research, Maria Carvalis was located. No distance for a shaper.
The plan was simple enough. Alex would show her face long enough to make sure a dozen infallible witnesses would be able to confirm that she had been at the festival the entire time. Then, at the right moment, she’d sneak out, hoof it over to the mountains where she’d meet with Darken, and then they would finally shine some light on that mysterious place called Maria P. Carvalis.
Easy peasy, right?
So why did she have this crushing feeling that something would go terribly wrong?
Stay calm, sugar! You managed the Summerball in one piece, so what’s a little garden party?
Swallowing the coppery taste of worry coating her tongue, Alex straightened her shoulders and made her way down the well-trod stone steps to the lawn, screwing on her best elite-lady smile.
She chose a random path and started to search for Stephane and Heloise, reckoning that where they were, Devilier and Roukewood wouldn’t be far away.
Butterflies floated on the gentle summer breeze like bright, delicate petals lured by the mass of flowers, and the air smelled sweet and pollen-laden. The shaper in Alex got slightly dizzy from all the scents, a keyed up beast prowling underneath her human skin.
Many people passed Alex’s way, several of which she’d met at the Summerball or at one of the other events she’d been to with the Dubois since. Alex smiled and nodded at them in passing, yet she didn’t linger to speak, except to ask if anyone happened to have seen Stephane or his mother.
She had a mission, and it didn’t include small talk. Showing her face, yes. Talk, no.
A woman stepped out of a hedge path in front of Alex, and she almost did a double take. The entirety of the woman’s flower patterned dress was studded with small butterflies fluttering their little tissue wings when she moved. They looked so lifelike that for a second, Alex wondered if the woman was wearing a dress made entirely of little corpses.
Mother’s mercy and Jester’s grace!
Josy had warned her that the old festival tradition to hint at the topic of the celebration with your choice of attire had gotten more and more out of hand over the past years.
Well, out of hand was putting it mildly, Alex reflected, as she took a closer look at the royal lords and ladies around her. While most men contented themselves with gussying up their summer suits of beige, blue, pale gray or white with sprays, flowery neck ties or bow ties, the women seemed rather keen on outdoing one another with the extravagance of their attire. True, most of the dresses were pretty, artful even, but some of them were nothing short of embarrassing.
/> One woman, for example, wore an emerald catsuit and a big hat shaped like a pink blossom that dripped green leaves down her back. Another wore a bright green corsage and a yellow balloon skirt which made her appear like a giant, fat pineapple. Yet another looked as though she’d rolled around in a flowerbed, decked completely in different kinds of leaves and flowers sticking out at odd angles. Well, obviously wealth and style didn’t always go hand in hand.
Running her fingers over the silky red fabric of her own dress, Alex was deeply relieved that Edalyne and Josy had once more shown excellent taste as well as restraint on the scale of extravagance. Josy had been right when she had assured Alex that the bright red would go great with her pale skin and light blonde hair. The sleeveless bodice of the dress hugged her chest, the slashing ‘V’ of its décolleté low enough to make her feel a little uncomfortable but definitely showing off her curves in the best possible way. She loved how the skirt fell around her legs in gossamer layers of tulip-shaped petals, sightly flaring at the hem. The soft fabric swung with every step she took, and the long slits left a lot of freedom to move. A mere hint of sparkling powder set her complexion aglow, accentuated by her bright red lipstick and a single, matching red flower in her hair just above her left ear. In her beige sandals, she seemed to be walking barefoot, unless you looked very closely. All in all, they had done a hell of a job on her, turning her—very literally—into a beautiful trueborn flower.
Following people’s directions, Alex eventually found both Stephane and his mother underneath an airy gazebo, standing with Alistair Devilier, Stephane’s main opponent in the running election campaign, and his wife Patricia. They were snacking on pastries and seemed to be arguing in a friendly sort of way. No sign of the senator of Tezeth, though, as far as Alex could see. Roukewood seemed to be making himself scarce.
A little behind his father, Max was shifting from one foot to the other, looking bored stiff. Stuffed into a baby blue suit over a white shirt with a violet flower clasped to his breast pocket and his hair slicked back with way too much hair gel, he looked about as happy as a boy who was forced to eat a bowl of overcooked vegetables. He was clearly contemplating if he could get away with splashing red juice from one of the nearby pitchers on his suit jacket to get rid of it, knowing at the same time he wouldn’t.