She glances back, her eyes bloodshot. Her gaze sweeps over me before she sniffs, straightens. “Nothing,” she snaps. “Once this introduction ends, follow me. I’ll take you to someone who can help with . . .” She touches her bodice, and I know she must have the tapestry tucked there.
I nod, still dumbstruck. “All right, but—”
She pushes past me, diving into the throne room before I can finish. Lekan hurries after her, bowing his head to me as he passes, and I think I catch a mumbled apology.
My eyebrows raise so high I’m sure they’re hovering over my mask. Conall and Garrigan seem just as confused, and Garrigan shrugs, offering me an encouraging smile. I take it and smile back at him, holding it on my face as I enter the throne room.
I grip my skirt in two tight fists, keeping alert in case whatever Ceridwen feared comes to pass. The throne room rolls out, a green-and-white marble floor swirling in a colorful dance beneath two rows of auburn columns. Sky-blue panels line the ceiling, broken only by a circle of gold in the center, bent to form a concave bowl that glitters in the light from the sconces around the room. Mosaics on the walls beyond the pillars create a kaleidoscope of green and brown that forms into shrubs, grass, maple and oak trees, and more. The gleaming golden dome above us shines down as a sun, casting us into an artist’s version of a forest, perfect and untouched.
I stop next to Dendera, trying not to gape too obviously at the wonder around me. The more I look, the more details I see. Like the tiled deer hiding behind a tree in one of the mosaics, or the rotations of the sun carved into the dome above us, or the king and queen of Ventralli, sitting on thrones made of—mirrors? Palm-sized octagonal mirrors, connected to appear as overstuffed armchairs that gotturned into diamonds, cover each of the two thrones. The dais holding the thrones aloft holds also an assortment of courtiers, a handful of men and women—but one stands closer to the king’s throne than the rest. Her vibrant yellow mask does nothing to hide her obvious disdain, and she purses wrinkled lips at our arrival, bending low to whisper something in the king’s ear.
My awe flies away and a pulse of anxiety makes me move forward, my body humming with the need to talk to Jesse and Raelyn before anyone intercedes on Winter’s behalf. Again. Dendera grabs my arm—the whole reason she came with me this time was to help me balance when to be impetuous and when to be calm. From the look she gives me, I can tell she wants to let the Ventrallan royals talk first.
As if sensing her cue, the queen rises. The older courtier woman pulls back from the king, eyeing the queen with some unspoken signal I can’t read.
Raelyn Donati’s gown swishes into place as if she controls every handful of fabric. A black bodice connects to cascades of black silk at her waist, the bundle falling down the back of her legs in a wide explosion of gleaming darkness. The front of her skirt holds a riot of colors—layers of sunflower-yellow and blush-red tulle. Her mask combines her gown’s colors and fabrics, fastened discreetly into her thick, dark curls. Sharp hazel eyes take each of us in as if she’s sorting through different fabrics to pick the one shedislikes least.
She stops on Ceridwen. Even with her mask, Raelyn’s entire demeanor changes, moving from slightly bored to annoyed with a few twitches of her lips. I risk a glance at Ceridwen, who keeps her eyes on the marble floor, her body so stiff she may as well be one of the pillars.
Raelyn takes a single step forward and turns to me, stopping at the edge of the short dais on which the thrones sit. “Queen Meira,” she says, clasping her hands behind her back.
I brace myself. I expect Ventralli’s displeasure now that I realize what bringing Cordell on this trip signifies, but I still don’t know how they’ll retaliate. Giselle only rebuffed us—what will Ventralli do? Throw their weight behind Cordell?
But, to my surprise, Raelyn’s mouth opens in a sigh. “I am sorry to hear of your kingdom’s suffering, but glad to know you have at last achieved a state of peace.”
Her words are kind, but her tone is that of someone reciting the sentence at an execution. Dendera nudges me and I blink.
“Um, thank you.” I clear my throat. “Thank you, Queen Raelyn. Winter appreciates your . . .”Support? No. Empathy? Eh.“. . . well-wishes.”
She bobs her head in acceptance and turns to her husband. “My lord, our guests traveled all this way, and we haven’t yet offered them a proper Ventrallan welcome.”She puts her hand on Jesse’s arm. “We have a celebration planned in their honor tonight, do we not?”
All attention is on Jesse now. But though we look at him, he only looks at Ceridwen, his eyes wide, his neck muscles tense, his jaw clenched. I feel as though we all stumbled in on these two, and we should duck out to allow them privacy for some affair.
Air lodges in my throat and I do everything I can to keep from coughing in the silence. That’s exactly what I’m watching, what Simon implied, what Raelyn knows all-too well, the way she touches Jesse and smirks at Ceridwen.
The Ventrallan king loves Ceridwen.
And from the way she glances up at him . . .
She loves him too.
That’s her secret. That’s why she seemed so disgusted by my relationship with Theron—we’re the same. And her relationship is just as broken as mine.
The older woman leans forward to put her hand on Jesse’s other arm, as if helping Raelyn hold him to the throne. Her touch shocks him and he launches to his feet, throwing off their hands in a way that makes both women blink in a sudden burst of surprise that no mask could hide.
Jesse looks down at the rest of us like he only just realized we were here. Like he couldn’t see anything beyond the fire that is the princess of Summer.
“Of course, my lady.” With his dark hair hanging loose around his shoulders and the simple red silk mask over hiseyes, he complements his wife in every way. Every way except in how he keeps drifting back to look at Ceridwen, unaware of the fact that Raelyn moves to take his arm again, her slender fingers curving around him.
His hazel eyes flick over us once more and stop on Theron. “Prince Theron,” he says. “Of course. We were . . . we expected you. Yes. A celebration, tonight.”
Jesse turns to Raelyn, dipping his head in a bow again. “Yes. A celebration,” he agrees before spinning around and diving between the mirrored thrones. The older courtier moves after him, hissing something inaudible, and all I catch in return from him is a brittle, “Not now, mother.”
His mother?
A burst of silver reflects back—Ventralli’s crown, hanging in a holster at his hip. Thin silver spires hold aloft an array of jewels, from rubies to emeralds to diamonds, all of it emitting the faintest silver glow, the same hazy aura of magic that emanates from all object-conduits. How did I not notice it before? And why does it hang from his belt, not sit on his head?
Jesse throws himself at a door behind the dais, ducking out almost as if he’s running from his mother, who follows in hot pursuit.
