Every face in the foyer held the same calculating expression, from assessing threats to planning betrayals. Lord Tyrrius sneered at our weapons with the confidence of someone who'd never faced real combat. His lean frame and ornamental blade suggested he preferred to let others do his dirty work, though the blood-red gemstone in his pommel hinted at darker capabilities.
A dark-skinned woman in seafoam silk studied Lore with predatory interest, her tightly curled hair woven with dark green pins. The thick torque around her throat pulsed with magical energy, jewelry that doubled as a weapon.
Her glance slid my way, and she sneered, tapping the torque.
Can jewelry be enchanted?I asked Lore.
Sometimes.
One woman wearing a suspicious torque is looking at me like she’d happily swipe a blade across my throat.Or gouge me in the back.
Who do you want to kill, and can I do it for you instead? I'm bored.
My snort made a nervous woman in deep blue jump. Her pinched expression and the way she kept smoothing her gown screamed anxiety.
Do I know the woman to my left?
Lady Bliss may, but I don't.
Near the parlor entrance, twin women in matching garnet gowns leaned against a column. Both willowy with medium-toned skin, one wore a bejeweled ring through her upper lip, the other through her brow. They were surveying the competition as much as me, and their whispered conversation ended in laughter sharp as jagged glass.
A stout older man dressed completely in white pretended tostudy the floor while shooting covert glances around the room. Ink stains on his fingers and his scholarly face marked him as someone who dealt in information, something that might work well in a place like this.
Friendly group,I told Lore.
The man in green by the door looks ready to murder me specifically.
That one stood apart from the others, his tunic well-made but unremarkable. What made him memorable was the hatred burning in his eyes as he watched Lore.
Lord Rutherford may have made enemies.
I'll take care. Or not. I am feeling feisty this morning.
Save your feistiness for later.
All of my feistiness belongs to you.
That warmed me through, and I shifted closer into his side, sliding my arm around the back of his waist.
The rest of the nobles blurred together in expensive silk and thin smiles, but these few stood out, each dangerous in their own way. Every single one of them looked at us as if they’d happily sink a dagger into our bellies, given the first chance.
Dorion came over to stand with us. “Sorry I was delayed. I was looking into things.”
“Lord Rutherford went to your room last night, but you weren’t there.” I studied his face, his eyes. “We were worried. Did you get any sleep?”
“Not much,” he clipped out.
“What did you discover?” Lore asked.
Dorion’s attention swept through the foyer. “Nothing I can discuss at this time.” His jaw worked as if he was holding back words that would shatter everything.
“It’s time to get started.” Queen Naveer stood on the second-floor landing, scanning those gathered in the foyer. The air shifted, growing heavier. Conversations died mid-sentence. Eventhe most arrogant nobles straightened under her gaze. After sauntering down the stairs to join us in the foyer, she clapped her hands, and the doors to the parlors on either side slammed closed. I’d bet anything they’d locked.
Goosebumps lifted across my skin.
“Pay attention.” Queen Naveer’s voice cut through the whispers, bringing them to a halt. “I will not repeat myself.”
Of course not. That would suggest some basic decency.
