He was right. Duron’s. Callan’s. The realm’s.
I pulled my hood lower. I’d altered my appearance as much as I could—darkened hair with soot, sharp line of shadow smeared across my cheeks, cloak marred with road dust—but it wouldn’t fool anyone who looked directly at me. Too many fae here had seen my face before. Not to mention the Obsidianswho had my face imprinted in their mind’s eye by their master.
“Let’s move,” I said quietly.
We slipped into the flow of bodies entering the city. Market stalls were crowded, fae buying ribbons and pastries and bottles of honey-spiced wine. Musicians played at the corner of Oak Square, cheerful and oblivious.
“Can’t believe they’re excited,” Slade muttered. “What kind of idiot celebrates their king marrying the woman who froze half their kingdom and cursed another besides?”
“The kind who’s been told it will save them,” Thorne said.
He nodded at a pair of gossiping fae near a fruit cart.
“—Her Majesty brings peace?—”
“—Our people will be protected?—”
“—Winter will shield us from the curse?—”
Propaganda. Crude but effective.
My stomach twisted. If Heliconia could convince an entire city she was salvation instead of ruin, what hope did the rest of Menryth have?
Cold prickled the back of my neck.
An Obsidian patrol turned the corner ahead of us—six armored soldiers with blackened eyes and ice-woven blades. They moved like a single living weapon.
Slade nudged me. “Stay behind Thorne.”
I stepped behind them both, head down.
The patrol approached.
One of them paused—head tilting, inhaling sharply.
Slade dropped a pouch containing coins—loudly—and swore. “Perfect, just perfect. First day on leave and I’m already broke.”
Three of the soldiers glanced at him.
Slade made a spectacle of scrambling after the rolling silver. “Fates above, I hate this city. Why areyour streets uneven? Don’t they know clumsy people exist? This is discrimination, that’s what it is?—”
Thorne rolled his eyes, annoyed at his fellow soldier.
The patrol lost interest.
They continued toward the palace gates.
Only when they were gone did my lungs loosen.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“You can name your firstborn after me,” Slade said breezily.
Thorne made a sound like choking. “Absolutely not.”
“She can put her own twist on it,” Slade said as if that made it entirely better. “Preferably something handsome and heroic. ‘Sladerius’ has a ring to it.”
I rolled my eyes as Thorne barked out a laugh.
