Not especially fond of the jest, Winnie snapped her attention to me. “Lunch will be taken in the dining hall today. A few esteemed guests have arrived and would like to make their introductions. I’m not sure who, just yet; Lord Quinn seemed ratherpreoccupied with greeting them, so I don’t believe he will be joining us on our route.”
My stomach rumbled at the mention of food. I soothed my hand over it, watching as Winnie continued to hang my pressed garments within the armoire. The guilt had long assuaged itself; if I’d risen to help, Winnie would have berated me, princess or not.
“Right,” Winnie sighed, shooting one more glower at a blankfaced Florence. “Shall we?”
Closing the cabinet so that the jars were concealed, I joined the other two in their exit. I reflected on the lesson as we walked; intentions, I had learned, were often not enough to cast a spell, hence the offerings. To cast an intention alone would drain the mana from the speaker’s body, often exhausting them and sometimes, depending on the strength of the wish, it could even result in death.
The thought brought Laetitia to mind. My father described the burning at the pyre, the screams that curdled his blood. She’d spoken her curse with only a circle carved into her own skin, no offerings of herbs or sacrificed animals (a lesson for another day, and one I did not especially wish to partake in), and yet she lived to suffer through her burning. Florence met my inquiry on the matter with a chilling answer:“Blood is an offering.”
We took our seats and waited for the room to fill. Several new chairs were set up along both sides, and just before the royal family arrived, another chair was brought in to the center table.
As Queen Adelaide entered, the prince right on her tail, they sat with the new chair empty between them. She turned her attention to me, then gestured with a hand.
“Alana Chastain, please join us,” she said, the room quieting in respect for the occasion.
I stared at the empty seat, then at Nicolas. He smiled fondly, concealing the expression behind folded hands. I expected the offer to rescind at any given moment, and for all of this to be an elaborate ruse, so I cautiously treaded to the seat. When no one stopped me, I sank into its plump, uncompressed cushion, fingers resting around the carved hart features.
Another servant came forward, presenting a circlet atop a fine velvet pillow. He bowed to me, offering it forward, and I took itfor inspection. It was a delicate construct, a rose gold design of intertwining branches accented with berries of peridot and freshwater pearls.
“I had it specially crafted to honor your journey,” Queen Adelaide said.
This had to be the finest gift I’d ever received. I put it on, feeling it sink into my hair as the court applauded.
I looked at Nicolas, whose eyes shined brightly with repressed sentiment; to Winnie and Florence, who both cheered with pride; to Quinn, or to his chair, as he had yet to arrive. I tried my best to appear as grateful as I felt, in lieu of speaking my appreciation; the queen patted my arm.
“And now,” Queen Adelaide said, “let us rise to greet the first of many guests who will reside within Altaigne until the conclusion of the royal wedding.”
Everyone stood. Quinn came through and moved to the side, a polite gesture to those who followed.
“May I present Taran Banewight and his apprentices, Asli and Sahra Doonle-Banewight of Aduran.” My heart stopped.
The first to enter behind Quinn was a middle-aged man of compact, stocky build. His short, dark hair had begun to show its silvers among the curls, glinting like ornaments in the intimate lighting. His face bore the weight of his profession, with penetrating dark eyes and a brow that cast a shadow. I wondered if the Banewight could see through my façade from such a distance, or if he could smell the magic on me. His clothes were practical, despite the occasion, as if he’d come prepared to hunt in black leather armor and silver buckles etched with protective wards. His heavy cloak bore the insignia of his order, a falcon carrying thorned branches, and various pouches and vials hung from his belt, all filled with mysterious powders.
I knew the name Taran. This was the man who executed Laetitia; he knew of my curse, and if he didn’t know who I was by now, he would soon enough. If Taran announced my curse to the court, it would rain a scandal upon the whole affair. There was no way in hell the queen would let the marriage continue under those circumstances.A farce, she might call it.
I bit down on my tongue and prayed that he would not know me, that the memory of my father would be washed away by countless other encounters with witches throughout the years.
He moved aside, giving no hint of recognition. Behind him were two figures that left me utterly transfixed: two Adurani from across the southern sea.
The woman’s skin glowed in contrast against the bright, sunny colors of her robes. Her hair was worked into an intricate pattern of thin braids that traced elegant curves along her scalp before cascading down her back. Small shells and golden rings were woven throughout, creating a gentle chime when she moved. It was almost as if someone had drawn delicate maps across her head in dark silk.
The man’s slightly darker complexion made the silver at his throat shine like the moon against the night. He wore his hair in a soft, dark cloud around his head, the thick curls hanging loose and full rather than pulled back.
Taran bowed to the queen, that piercing look refusing to spare even a moment of reverence. “Your Majesty, I thank you for opening your home to us. It’s been too long.”
“Taran Banewight,” Queen Adelaide recalled, “I believe it was my own wedding when last we met. But I cannot blame you for your infrequent visits; you are a busy, well-traveled man.” Her focus fell on the apprentices.
The man came forward and kneeled. His voice was clear and enunciated, but the foreign accent was apparent. “I am Asli, Your Majesty, of the Doonle bloodline. This is my sister, Sahra.”
“Seekers,” Taran clarified. “Please do not be alarmed; there may be three Banewights in your court, but I had just sailed from Aduran when I heard news of the betrothal. I thought it best not to separate from my apprentices after only recently conscripting them.”
Queen Adelaide turned to the other Doonle. “I’ve never met a female Banewight. I suppose it is not unheard of, but it is rare.”
“The Lady shines her light upon you, Your Majesty,” Sahra Doonle replied. She had a sad variety of beauty to her, like she’d never known laughter.
A necklace of the sun caught the light as she spoke. I spared the briefest glance at Florence; her knuckles whitened around her goblet, though her expression remained composed.
“And you are Lady Alana,” Sahra continued, turning to me. “Even in our capital of Badis Eldar, we heard of the silent woman who won the prince’s heart.”
