“Dima is a professional,” she continues, and I bypass Barty in the shadows to peer through the trees. A woman stands nearby, a large home further off in the distance. We’re near the outskirts of Swan Lake Kingdom, but we aren’t within the walls of the kingdom itself. From the richness of her dress and the little jewels at her ears, I imagine she comes from some sort of wealth. A noblewoman, then.
“Your son hasn’t produced a single thing to aid our queen’s plan,” the voice goes on, and as I watch her move around, I realize she’s holding a seeing stone. The voice carries through the enchanted rock, meaning that, in real life, this man is probably speaking very loud. “His excursions with Morgan have not gone unnoticed, Ysanna.”
The woman blushes. “What my son does in his personal time is not of my concern. He will marry the princess andbecome king. Then, according to the legend, the pool will be ours.”
“Mine,” he corrects. “Once Dima has what’s required, we will open the pool together. And invite our lady home.”
Pursing my lips, I get closer and peer over the woman’s shoulder. She’s none the wiser; the man’s face on the stone’s smooth surface is handsome, older, and has an aristocratic air to it and sunkissed skin with brilliant black curls. But his face is not one I recognize.
“The plan will go through,” she says, forcing a breath. I’m not sure he can tell through the stone, but there’s a light shake to her hands as she continues. He’s rattled her. “Dima is securing our ally now.”
He scoffs. “Be sure that he keeps his end of the bargain, Ysanna. Or we will not offer ours.”
The stone darkens, and I eye her as she fists it and drops to sit on the bench behind her, her body nearly phasing through me. There are worry lines etched across her face, and although they mentioned many names, the man on the other side of the stone eludes me. I don’t know who anyone is they were speaking about, and none of the pieces fit together. If it’s not a puzzle that I need to solve, I’d rather not be bothered by the facts at all.
“That’s her,” Barty says, worry etched in his transparent eyes. “The Lady Swan.”
I don’t have to look her way again to know this isn’t the Queen. I’m not sure why Barty seems to hold her in such high regard, but he gestures for me to speak to her.
Right now, I’m lingering at her back, and I will terrify her if I appear in this spot. Slipping through the shadows I move to the other side of the small, grassy area, dropping onto the other stone bench across the way.
She doesn’t notice me at first when the shadows fall away. Her hands rub over the stone, gaze cast down, and I cantell her mind is far away, probably thinking of this son of hers, Dima.
A sorcerer, she said? I don't recall Ray mentioning a sorcerer in Swan Lake. If she is not the Queen, then he has learned magic sometime in his life. Only royals are born with inherited power.
“For a woman surrounded by beauty, your face twists with sorrow,” I say, mentally suppressing the laughter that threatens to bubble up when she jumps, drops the seeing stone once more, and kicks it under the bench like I haven’t seen.
She presses her hand to her chest, fluttering her lashes. A garish hat sits on her head, dressed with a lot of white feathers, and her face is caked in powder that makes her skin look chalky and pale. I don’t think this is the preferred style of the rich lately, but I make it a point to avoid them when they are among the living so I cannot be sure. It's a little… eccentric an outfit to wear in the yard.
“Oh!” she gasps, looking around, probably searching for the way I came in without being noticed. The space is open among the trees, but appears to back onto the home, so I doubt just anyone can easily waltz in. “Oh, my dear. I didn’t hear you come this way. Are you a friend of Dima’s?”
I feign a smile, deciding it might be easier to charm her than threaten her. She’s still batting those lashes, fanning herself, like the off-the-shoulder dress is sweltering despite the cool breeze. “I’ve heard from Dima that you might have some information for me.”
“And who, pray tell, are you?”
“Ban,” I reply plainly, waiting to see if she will dig. I’m not Ray, so she might not recognize the name of another Reaper in casual conversation. “And you are Lady Ysanna?”
“Yes,” she says carefully, studying me as some of her forced seduction slips away. I’m not going to confirm I’m friendswith Dima when I have no idea who he is, but dropping his name into the conversation seems to work. “What information do you believe I have, sir?”
Nodding, I toss my staff from one hand to the other, and her eyes track the movement. If this were the Frostlands, she could probably put together who I am. But rumors about me are pretty scarce nowadays, and I like it that way.
“I’m on a bit of a hunt,” I say carefully, dropping my staff back onto the soft grass. “I’m looking for something I think you have seen recently. An old spinning wheel, possibly within the wall of Tressa? I've heard it once spun threads of gold.”
Her eyes spark with real interest, that feigned seduction completely gone. “Midas’s golden wheel?” A guarded look passes over her face. “That wheel, Sir, has been missing for many years now.”
“He no longer spins thread of gold?” I clarify, shooting Barty a look. If the wheel is still in the clutches of the Golden King, I may have to cross paths with Zarev. And I doubt it’s going to go over well.
The spinning wheel in question is one I’ve never truly seen, only heard about in legend and from the stories I pieced together about the Snow Queen’s plans. No one ever seems to know what I’m referring to, and every once in a blue moon someone remembers the legends of the spinning wheel, but never the needle I seek. Barty said there's a rumor someone in Swan Lake knows where it went after leaving Tressa, but I'm not sure that person is Ysanna.
“Oh, Heaven above, I doubt it.” She waves a hand. “Dorah would never allow it to stay, and Midas has no need to weave gold if his power is as great as I've heard.”
My brows lift. “Dorah?”
She presses a hand to her mouth, hissing out a breath that I nearly miss. “How did you say you know Dima again?”
I have to fight back a smirk as her gaze drags over me again, probably trying to pinpoint how old I am and if I know Dima at all. On the outside, I physically look young, maintaining my twenty-six-year-old physique in death twice over. But I was alive long before this woman was even a thought. “I’m on a search for some of the nobility in the north. They are looking for the pieces of the spinning wheel and paying a lofty sum. Dima is of noble blood from what I understand. Do you have some knowledge of where it might be? If your information is good I can pay you for the trouble.”
I have no plans to keep to that part of the lie, but the woman in front of me doesn't need to know that.
