We burst out into the parlor, glitter-black and churning with bodies. A lively gavotte was underway, although from the raucous laughter and missed steps I didn’t think choreography was top of mind. Gavin pulled me forward, sliding an arm around my waist so that we stood in position to join the staggering line of dancers.
“Let’s not!” I protested, shouting to be heard above the music. “My dress will get ruined!”
Gavin brandished a salute before bending at the waist and sweeping up the train of my gown. We plunged into the boisterous dance, my dress swirling in a breathless flurry of twilight colors. I clutched his arm, unwilling to lose myself in the tipsy frenzy of the movement. Couples whirled around us, a dizzying kaleidoscope of wild costumes and fanciful disguises—I glimpsed a wolf’s fangs dripping kembric blood; a cygni’s pale wings stretched above a dristic blade of a neck; a diamond soldat and a mask red as ambric—
My eyes flew wide. I froze, fear pulsing through me. Gavin slammed into my motionless figure—stumbled—caught himself on the dancer next to him. Both boys went down, and Gavin’s hand on my skirt pulled me off-balance too. I floundered to my knees, still searching wildly through the crowd for that scrap of red, that fearsome mask. A girl shouted—fabric ripped with a loud wet pop—a crystal goblet smashed on the floor, spilling wine over my slippers. A heavy hand on my shoulder dragged me backward. Terror spangled white-hot through my chest. I flung wild fists toward the figure.
It was just Gavin—he caught my forearms and half carried me out of the chaos, deftly moving between reeling drunks and a few couples still trying to dance despite the confusion I’d caused. I craned my neck over my shoulder, still looking for that Red Mask, but all I saw was the aftermath of someone running into a servant carrying a tray of drinks. The harried boy was on his knees in a pool of green liquid, cleaning up shattered crystal as laughing courtiers half-heartedly tried to help. Shards of broken glass winked at me.
“Mirage.” Gavin set me in the shadow of a darkened hallway, his eyes keen with concern. “Are you all right?”
“What do you care?” Already the wild thrust of fear had faded, leaving me choked and shuddering andashamed.I could have sworn I’d seen a Red Mask, but that wasn’t possible. Not here, in the palais, at a party I’d personally organized. I’d seen the guest list, signed the invitations. The servants were loyal to Belsyre, the guards at the door Loup-Garou. This was the safest place in the world for me. “Why are you even here?”
“You invited me, remember? Rivals, not enemies?”
“I had an agenda,” I snarled. “Surely you had one too.”
His face hardened. “I came to ask you to cede.”
I fought a choking wave of numb fury. “Why in the daylight world would I do a thing like that?”
“You thought you were going to win the Head Ordeal.” Gavin’s voice was blunt. “But you didn’t. And I’m going to—wasalwaysgoing to—win the Hand Ordeal. Without either of the first two Relics, it won’t even matter if you win the Heart Ordeal and earn back your ambric Relic. I will have already earned my place as Sun Heir.”
“You might not win the Hand Ordeal.” Terror made my voice cold.
“I’ll win.”
“My will was forged in the dusk and tempered in kinsblood,” I hissed. “I am not without strength.”
“Scion, Mirage, I’m not trying to insult you.” His eyes blazed. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. But if you think the Oubliettes won’t test you with sharp edges and cold dristic …”
“So? If I must prove myself worthy, like every Sabourin before me, then I’ll do it.”
“And die in the doing?” He rose to his full height, looming above me. “Why put yourself through a dangerous, potentially life-threatening Ordeal when you know you cannot win? You don’t want to do that. Even you’re not that reckless.”
“So you want me to, what? Just let you win?” The tears in the back of my throat stung like betrayal.
“Forfeit this ridiculous competition before it kills you. What’s the point of a crown if you don’t have a head to rest it on?”
“If I hand you the throne that should be mine, this empire will have a zealot as its monarch. An emperor with no tolerance for religious freedom. An emperor who had to cheat his way to a throne. And I will be nothing.”
“Please, cousin, I’m not without mercy.” His smile wasn’t kind. “My offer still stands. Marry me, and our Sabourin children will never have to fight for anything.”
Silence stretched hard and flat between us. Finally, I stood, gathering my rage around me like a cloak.
“I would rather stand in the sunlight and rail against the dusk than peer at the sun from the shadows and call that living. I will conquer the dusk and breathe light into shadow. I will remind them who I am.”
Gavin gave me a long look. “Then I will see you at the second Ordeal, cousin.”
Ishoved away from Gavin through the shadow-bright drapes, desperate to find somewhere to breathe, to be alone, to sort through the tangle of emotions surging sour in my throat. But the party was in full swing. I fought my way through a crowd of revelers who’d decided that dancing was much more fun than lying to one another. I stumbled free, and slid down one of the hallways. I found the ice gate to Sunder’s winter jardin and pushed it open. False snow sifted between desolate trees, and illusory frost hid a pale marble floor.
At the center of it all was Sunder.
He sprawled on the floor, half-covered in drifting snow and drinking from the narrow neck of a bottle half-full of green liquor.
Even from here, I could tell he was drunk.
I nearly turned on my heel and left. I knew we had to talk eventually, but I didn’t relish a rehash of the charges he’d laid upon my head. Not tonight. Not after my encounter with Gavin. And certainly not when he’d been drinking.
