The Warden tilted her head, appraising me. Even in her human form, the manner of an owl hung about her. After a moment, she nodded slowly and released me. Only then, my jaw aching, did I realize how tightly she’d been holding me in place.
“Perhaps you’re right,” she said. “I’ll consider what you’ve said. And in the meantime, try to put thoughts of my daughter out of your mind. I’ll introduce her to all of you when the time is right. Oh, and since you’re here, I have something for you.”
From the pocket of her dress she retrieved an envelope bearing the royal seal, which had already been broken. “The councils are holding a ball this weekend in Fairhaven. To boost morale, they say. A foolish waste of resources, but as long as they keep sending new girls to us, I’m afraid we must tolerate their idiocy. You’ll attend as a representativeof the Order, make nice with your sister, charm anyone with heavy purses. I’ll give you a list of formal requests for the war council. Consider this an extension of your leave.”
I took the offered envelope, feeling a little unbalanced. The abrupt change of topic left a sour taste in my mouth, as did the thought of attending a royal ball. Even in peacetime, I wasn’t one for dancing. And I was still fixated on what she’d said about her daughter:I’ll introduce her to all of you. Had she already borne the child?
“And Mara,” the Warden added, already turning away, “make sure you bathe well, and soon. That man’s stink is all over you.”
Then she was gone, and my surprise left me standing there for a solid minute.I’ll introduce her to all of you when the time is right. I thought back over the past few years, searching my memory for clues of the Warden’s pregnancy, and found nothing. And even though the road back to Rosewarren was empty except for me, and I’d walked it thousands of times, I found myself looking over my shoulder like stalked prey. Each time, I thought for certain that I’d find the Warden slowly trailing after me, a girl with matching black eyes beside her, holding her hand.
But it was only me and the Mist and the quiet air. Embarrassed to be so jumpy, I hurried on.
***
Three days later, I was standing in a corner of the Pearl of the Sea Ballroom, drinking my second glass of wine in ten minutes, pretending to admire the palace’s architecture, and wishing everyone would stop staring at me.
They were coy about it, but a Rose was an object of desperate fascination, especially during wartime. The night had just begun, and already I’d turned away two Anointed lords, a wealthy tradeswoman who was worried about how the continuing conflict would affecther profit margins, and three writers for various town bulletins, all of whom wanted reassurance in the form of a snappy quote.
The only one I was willing to give them was far more boring than they would have liked, and no doubt not reassuring at all:The Order is working around the clock to reinforce the Mist and fight off as many Olden invaders as possible. We appreciate the sacrifice the country is making by sending us their daughters and entrusting us with their safety as we all band together to stop this unprecedented threat.
The Warden had told me to be charming, but that was Gemma’s skill, not mine. And even though that tradeswoman and the two lords undoubtedly had funds to spare, they wandered away looking disgruntled, and I made no effort to stop them.
I just needed to speak with Farrin, I told myself, maybe sit with her awhile. Then perhaps I’d find the will to paste on a smile.
I set my empty glass down on a sideboard and wandered the room, searching the crowd for my elder sister while the wine loosened the knots in my shoulders. At first glance, the party seemed normal enough. The royal orchestra played a lilting waltz from the stage at the far side of the room. Guests wearing glittering gowns, brocaded waistcoats, and fur stoles spun past me. Others gossiped in corners while picking at their plates of food. Outside the windows, stars were beginning to twinkle in the early winter sky. The Mist hadn’t reached this far south. Not yet.
But every now and then, I saw people glancing at the windows with sparks of nervousness in their eyes, as if they expected the Mist to come roiling through the city at any moment. The soft coral-and-periwinkle banners hanging around the room, bearing the royal crest, were each flanked by two panels of gauzy black. A gorgeous oil painting of the late queen Yvaine hung above the grand staircase.
It was a party, yes, but in a country at war and in mourning.
For a moment, I stood at the bottom of the stairs, nursing my thirdglass of wine and gazing up at Yvaine’s portrait. Her eyes—one violet, one gold—were soft and sweet, her smile beatific. She wore a lavender gown, and her voluminous white hair was gathered up into a knot, around which sat a slender silver crown. The prim, dainty image was so at odds with what I now knew about Yvaine that I laughed a little into my glass.
Ankaret.Memories of Yvaine’s true form—a creature of fiery feathers and starlit eyes—whispered in the back of my mind. In Mhorghast, she’d fought so bravely to defend us, the reds, oranges, and golds of her body incandescent beside Kilraith’s angry storm-cloud colors. I remembered her rearing up to shield us from his blows, the brilliance of her enormous wings. Woman and avian and Olden, just like me.
“Do you really think she’ll come back somehow?”
I’d sensed someone coming to stand beside me but didn’t realize who it was until he spoke.
I sighed, took another sip of wine, and kept staring up at the queen. Another person I didn’t particularly want to talk to: Gareth Fontaine, he of the drunken crossbow-bearing friends.
“Stranger things have happened, I suppose,” I said.
“Farrin believes it with all her heart.”
“I’m glad she does. Hope can be a great comfort. Ryder will pull her back if she grows obsessive about it.”
He hummed a little in agreement, then cleared his throat. “Mara, I know you don’t like me very much. And I don’t blame you, really, especially after that incident with your friend Cira the other day. But I’d like to change that, or at least try.” I heard a smile in his voice. “I’m not entirely hopeless, you know. Do you think Farrin would like me so much if I were a true scoundrel?”
Finally I turned to face him, and when I did, I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. I’d heard all about Gareth’s rakish ways; I’d even gotten a small taste of them myself during our travels to Wardwellearlier that fall, when he’d fawned over me like a smitten schoolboy at the tavern in Vallenvoren.
But I’d never seen him done up so nicely. Of course he was able to reel in woman after woman, looking like that. His blond curls were artfully tousled, his green eyes sparkled behind his gold-rimmed glasses, and though his gray suit was unassuming compared to some of the other guests’ extravagant garments, it was tailored to perfection. I’d not realized until that moment how pleasing a form he had. Tall, lean but solid, with a boyishly lanky quality that I found rather charming. It must have been the wine, or his elegant long fingers, or that sharp turn of his jaw. His collar was slightly undone, his tie loose and rumpled. As I took him in, he grinned.
“Why, Mara,” he said, “you flatter me with such attention.”
I raised an eyebrow and shrugged, determined not to react to that smile of his. “Even Roses can appreciate a handsome man. We’re not monks, you know, scurrying about in our Cloisters muttering prayers day and night.”
“Certainly not.” He was looking me up and down. Fair play.
