FIVE
Oh good,” said Harmon. “You’re here.”
They entered a corridor outside the grand ballroom, which was within a home that had once belonged to a baron.A relic,Venick had called the house as they approached, peering up at the arched columns, the row of evenly spaced windows. According to Venick, the royal family had been dead for six hundred years, having either been peacefully dissolved or violently overthrown—the records were never quite clear as to which. After the monarchy was abolished, many of their manors were dismantled, the gold melted and sold, the stone reworked into shelters and roads. This home was one of the few remaining artifacts from that era.
“No one lives here anymore,” Venick had told Ellina as they traveled up the curving path. “It’s a public space, overseen by the city’s councilors and kept up by the people. Cities sometimes use these buildings as courthouses or inns or—” his mouth had creased with distaste, “dinner venues.”
Though the house was well secured with guards at every entrance, it was otherwise empty of people, despite obvious signs of occupancy: candles alight on the sidebars, half-drunk cups of tea in the sitting areas, an abandoned game of cards. As Venick and Ellina made their way through a series of long, straight hallways, Ellina began peeking through open doors, looking for guests or a staff. The home was lovely, if not a bit cluttered. The walls were obscured by portraits and tapestries, the tables stacked with books, the inset shelving stuffed with a random assortment of items that might have been period pieces and might have been junk. Ellina envisioned an overzealous collector managing the home’s décor, refusing to part with a single item.
It was not until they reached the corridor where Harmon waited that Ellina finally heard it: a low buzz.
They came closer. The noise grew. There was a clatter of china, the din of conversation, the scraping of feet and chairs. By the time they reached the ballroom’s threshold, Ellina had no doubt where the household had gone. They were all gathered there, behind that final door.
Harmon watched the pair approach, surveying Venick like a mother might survey a child. “Didn’t you want to change out of your riding clothes?” She shushed him with a hand before he could answer. “Never mind, there isn’t time. Everyone’s already inside. It won’t be long now before our entrance.” Though Harmon looked fit for a throne—her hair woven with golden lace, her highland-style gown pleated in even folds—she sounded somewhat breathless, as if she had just dashed up a flight of stairs. “Ellina, you can go in now, find yourself a seat. Venick and I will wait for the signal. We enter last.”
Ellina did not know much about Harmon’s father, but this seemed like the performative type of strategy the Elder would have employed, one that set himself at center stage.
Venick appeared to share Ellina’s thoughts. He spoke lightly. “Another highland custom?”
“Be grateful,” Harmon replied. “If we were really in the highlands, we’d have to dance. And then there’d be the First Kiss. Oh, don’t look at me like that, it’s not like we haven’t—”
She stopped. Glanced at Ellina.
The silence seemed to eat up the air.
“Ellina—” Venick started, but Ellina had already turned away, pushing through the doors into the ballroom. “Ellina,” he tried again, but Harmon was gripping the back of his shirt, whispering something about running after her twice in one day, and that he had promised, and then Ellina heard no more, because the ballroom doors were closing between them, and she was not listening, anyway.
Her feet carried her. She was grateful for her feet, for the fact that they could move her forward while the rest of her was still stuck on that threshold.
It’s a political move,Ellina could hear Harmon’s voice insist.The engagement is just for show.
You understand that, don’t you?
Well, Ellina? Don’t you?
Ellina wanted a dark corner. She needed a moment to collect herself, to locate the missing parts of her armor and piece them back together. Greaves. Gauntlets. Shield and sword. However, she was given no such moment because on the other side of the door was a fully packed ballroom, the welcome dinner party and its guests. Worse, those guests all seemed to be looking ather, stripping Ellina of her anonymity at the moment when she most wanted to be anonymous.
Ellina fumbled. She felt a twinge of that same feeling from the river, the one that threatened to open its jaws and consume her. There were so many faces—highlanders, predominantly, dressed in their colorful garb, but also many neutrally clad plainspeople, some weathered lowlanders, a few elves, plus a guard at every door and window. Had these guests been waiting for her? But of course, it was not Ellina they were expecting, but Venick and Harmon, who would soon appear out of that same door.
An announcer began the night’s introductions, his voice amplified by a speaking trumpet. Ellina forced herself to keep moving. As she searched for an empty seat at one of the two long tables, she found herself wishing suddenly, helplessly, for Dourin. Last Ellina knew, her friend was still under the care of Parith’s healers, having suffered a wound to the abdomen during an assassination attempt on the Elder. Dourin might be recovered now. Or his health might have deteriorated further. Ellina had sent letters to Parith but received no reply, not from the Elder or the healers or Dourin himself.
The announcer continued his speech. Ellina listened to the words without really hearing what was said. Her anxiety was rising. This dinner was supposedly for invited guests only, but either the organizers had miscounted, or additional members had taken liberties—every chair was occupied, and people were beginning to throw her looks.Sit down,someone hissed.You’re blocking the view!
Ellina abandoned her hunt and went to stand at the back of the hall. The ballroom walls were plastered with floral paper showing giant, feral-looking flowers. She pressed her shoulder blades to them, imagining that she could vanish between their vines.
The announcer’s voice stopped. The doors flung open.
The ballroom erupted with applause. Several highlanders stood from their seats as the couple entered, Harmon waving like a debutante, Venick looking grim and somehow desperate. Harmon leaned her head against Venick’s shoulder. The crowd oohed. She gave his arm a squeeze. The crowd sighed.
Ellina marked the distance from herself to the nearest window. She entertained fantasies about diving straight through it.
A string quartet struck up a tune. The volume in the ballroom steadily rose. Someone called for a toast, but this had not been planned, and so there was a moment of riffling while two jeweled goblets were procured, snatched straight from the hands of nearby guests. Harmon clinked their glasses and drank, but Venick scarcely touched the cup to his lips.
Somewhere beyond the clouds, the sun gave a final sigh before dropping beneath the horizon. Ellina felt that shift under her skin, a chill that reached her bones.
The celebration began in earnest. Despite this being a welcome dinner, Ellina did not actually see any food being served. Instead, wine was distributed, and there was dancing, a mix of mainland styles that Ellina could no more tell apart than she could perform herself. Harmon, with her shimmering hair and bustled gown, was easy to track as she passed from partner to partner, but Venick had vanished. Ellina did not know where he had gone.
When a servant offered Ellina a glass of wine, she accepted it and drank deeply.
