Percy put up his hands, then left me to ruminate on the threat. Lady Maeve stepped into my line of vision, saying something to try and ease the tensions, but her breath was wasted. All I could hear was a white hot scream in the back of my mind; these women were only humoring me, as Percy had brilliantly exposed.
I excused myself with a bow and made my way back to Winnie and Florence. A new weight settled on my shoulders.
“Perhaps Lady Alana would like to speak with me in my chambers?” Florence asked, looking to Winnie for signs of disapproval. She found none, for once. “My lady, you’re troubled. Come, let me share your burden.”
She walked ahead with me, leaving Quinn and Winnie to linger behind. It was a quiet walk to her bedchamber, but once we were alone together, Florence relaxed and accommodated me with a glass of red Hadrian wine. I took a sip and reeled; it was dry, much less sweet than its Gallaean counterpart. In my time in Pontarena, I’d been served a variety of beverages, but this one was the least likely to make me ill from the sugar content, though it also tasted the strongest.
“That Percy fellow is a royal bellend,” Florence said. “If you could punish him for his snide remark, how would you do it?”
The question struck me as odd, but I obliged. “Eye for an eye. If he sought to humiliate me, bring me down a peg on the ladder, then I would do the same to him.”
Florence’s lips tugged into a knowing grin.
“Although,” I continued, “he issupposedto be dead.”
“Ah. One of the prince’s enemies?” Florence asked, tilting her head. Her eyes smiled. “Why don’t we kill him?”
Choking on the wine, I quickly set the goblet down before I could spill any on myself.
“It can be done,” Florence assured. “It would take a moonlit ritual, as the goddess shuts her eyes at night. It is when the Lord’s power reaches its peak.”
My secular upbringing was coming back to haunt me. While my father would sometimes invoke the gods, and my mother would occasionally pray, I knew nothing of the specific rules these immortal beings followed. It all seemed like a fairy tale. “I still don’t entirely understand.”
Florence pulled her necklace from her gown, toying with its moon-shaped charms. “It is believed by some that once, before the dawn of civilization, there was only one god—a united being—and that it was mankind who brought about the split. Men and women’s needs were so different in nature that one god could not serve them both with fairness. The Lady of Day came about to serve women, the Lord of Night, men…but the rule is different for those who bear magic, if you recall. The truth is that the Lord and Lady both resent and love one another. They exist in eternal duality. By using magic, we defy the natural order set by the Lady of Day and offend her thusly; to place the strongest of spells, we must speak our incantations by night, in the presence of the moon.”
I tried to follow along. “And thisLord of Nightwould approve of us killing a man?”
“The gods favor their emissaries over the common man or woman. So long as we ask in respect and follow the ritual, He will not oppose.”
A chill ran along my spine, as if the god was reminding me of his presence. I shivered until it subsided. “I don’t know. To kill with magic seems too easy.”
“It is hardlyeasy,” Florence disagreed. “The ritual required to use such strong magic is damned unpleasant. You won’t die from it, but especially the first time, it is…taxing.”
I really didn’t like the sound of that, or how familiar Florence seemed with such a ritual. “Have you killed many people?”
Florence’s dark eyes went distant. She was quiet for too long, like she’d been forced to relive some unpleasant memories. “Only when I had to.”
Remaining uncertain, I swirled my thumbs. “Well, I have yet to use magic at all. Perhaps I should start with something…I don’t know…smaller?”
“Tell me what it is you wish to do, my lady, and we will make it so.”
“We discussed humiliation,” I recollected, eyeing the wine. I couldn’t believe I was entertaining such a conversation while completely sober. “Let’s have Percy make a fool of himself. Show me what thisgodis capable of.”
Florence expelled her demons, that wicked smile returning. She stood up and made her way to a small chest near her dressing area, withdrawing a white piece of chalk and a handful of candles. Then, she turned to me with a look that said she was almost attracted to the mayhem of her business.
“Very well, my lady,” Florence said. “Let’s move the furniture, clear a space. I will give you your first taste of magic.”
Lightning brought a false daylight to the darkness outside. Rain pattered against the windows of the dining hall, filling the air inside with a distinct musk. I half-expected to look up and find bats dwelling in the rafters, or to stumble over stalagmites on the way to my seat. The weather brought a draft into the palace, and so my efforts to dress like a Hadrian were muted by the addition of a fur cloak.
To my dismay, Percy was nowhere to be found. I made passing glances at Florence throughout the meal, wondering exactly when our curse might take effect, but very little had been made clear to me at all.
Take a candle in your hand. Close your eyes until the afterimage disappears; keep them shut, and whisper your will into the dark.
It was eerily simple. Part of me wondered if the chill that came with my incantation was simply a willingness to buy into the illusion, or if some other presence had really crept into the room with us. When the candle’s lingering light went out behind my eyes, I could have sworn someone was standing right in front of me, breathing…but when I opened my eyes, there was only Florence, sitting on the opposing end of the complex circular diagram.
Another crash of thunder, and then a monster materialized in the doorway. Half the room shouted with fear as it stumbled forward, the mud coating its body dripping onto the immaculate floors below. It bumped a tall candelabra so that five little candles went flying, and fortunately their flames found nothing to catch.
“Gods!” Queen Adelaide yelled, rising from her seat. Her alarm shifted to thinly-veiled outrage. “Is that you, Percy?!”
