They haven’t given up on you yet, Sorin.
“It’s about time,” Thaddeus whispers, pulling my arm.
“In the drawing room,” a woman says. Her scarlet, silk dress hugs all of her curves. Her dark hair, piled onto her head with crimson lips to match her dress. Small flecks of gold glitter against her ebony skin.
Lady Mordona of the Bloodstone Guild.
“Almost lost your chance.” A woman with hair and skin as pale as snow brushes my shoulder as she passes by. Her beaded, turquoise gown swishes in time with the music as she walks.
Lady Oletta of the Cerulean Guild.
Thaddeus pushes me forward, but I shrug out of his grip. I can’t read his expression as he turns to face the room across from us. “Thaddeus we must leave?—”
“Don’t be foolish!” He grabs onto my arm again. “We’ve made it all this way, we will not leave without a meeting.” He pats my arm, offering a quick smile before heading into the drawing room.
My feet pull me forward, my legs uncertain, my heart even more so.
I have to get to her. I have to?—
“Sit.” Lady Mordona snaps her fingers before pointing to a chair at the end of the table.
Despite the gnawing instinct in my gut to leave, I do as she says. Once seated, everyone pulls off their masks, and I truly get a look at the ladies. Oletta looks similar to Agnes in age. Lines creasing around her mouth and eyes, especially when she smiles. Mordona is much younger, but something in her dark eyes tells me she could outsmart any one of us.
“Come on, boy. Let us see this so-called decree before the king himself waltzes in here.” Lady Mordona’s stare sends a chill down my spine. She watches me as she sips casually from a crystal glass filled with light pink, bubbly liquid.
I smile, but she looks away. With shaky hands, I pull the sacred paper from my pocket. Thaddeus reaches for it. My hand tenses around it.
“It’s all right,” Thaddeus says.
My hand trembles again as I let go of the parchment. My eyes don’t leave it as he passes it straight to Lady Mordona and Lady Oletta. The two of them read for what feels like ages. Whispering back and forth to each other.
Placing my hands in my lap, I twist my father’s ring until the skin beneath the cool metal begins to sting.
“Well it certainly looks legitimate,” Oletta says.
“Not to mention he could be Silas’ twin.” Mordona laughs, the sound grating on the last bit of patience I have to be here.
A few tense moments of silence fill the space when the door to the drawing room bursts open. My chair tips backward as I stand abruptly, hands going instinctually to the blade on my hip. Only I remember, it isn’t there. I dropped it in the hallway.
Fuck.
“Lord Calix,” Thaddeus says with a long sigh. “We were beginning to worry.”
Calix’s eyes are frantic as he glances around the table.
Then, they meet mine. His face contorts, softening his expression.
“Sorin Rudhek,” he says. Not a question, but an understanding. I nod. His eyes direct to Thaddeus, then to Mordona and Oletta. “The boy is who he says. I’m sure of it.”
Nerves erupt in my stomach. How is this man so sure? I glance at Thaddeus but he’s focused on Calix. His smile looks victorious, as if he’s won in some way.
“It isn’t that simple, Cal,” Mordona says. She finishes her drink before setting it down on the oak table. “It isn’t just our vote. It’s the council as well.”
“But with each of you backing me, backing this”—I point to the paper still in Mordona’s hands—“there must be a fair chance.”
She smiles, all teeth, and it reminds me so much of Ruse’s that my knees shake as she stands and joins my side. “You have a fair chance. But don’t think we offer our aid without a price.” She leans in, her breath tickling against my ear. “Nothing is ever free.”
The hair on my arms raises. What could she mean?—
