I gave her a curt nod.
As we sat, platters materialized on our table with soft pops and empty trenchers appeared directly in front of each of us. Pitchers of wine and water appeared from nothing and filled mugs with wine, ale, water, and some sort of brownish liquid I wasn’t sure I wanted to taste. Bread sliced itself into neat portions on one of the platters while butter was spread across the surface by invisible hands. I watched as a blade in no one’s hand carved a leg of meat, each slice falling onto another platter. Vegetables and fruits and even pastries appeared on the other platters, mounding to the point that a few fell off to plop on the scarred wooden table.
No one else seemed to notice or care that all this was happening around us. They passed platters, chatted, and tore into warm bread like magic was just…ordinary. I kept my hands folded in my lap. I couldn’t move. Not because I was afraid of the food, though some part of me was, but because every instinct screamed that this was a trap. A trick. Something from a dream before the executioner’s blade fell.
“Incredible,” I whispered to Lexie.
She followed my gaze and shrugged, looking toward the now-distracted Nia before lowering her voice to a whisper. “After tomorrow, we’ll either be able to learn to do things like this ourselves or?—”
“Silence,” Nia bellowed. So much for looking distracted. This woman appeared to see everything, and for all I knew, she could be using magic to spy on us.
Maybe Ididwant to learn how to develop whatever it was inside me I’d always seen as a taint. With abilities like this, I could find the children and figure out who killed my sister much faster.
“And if we can’t learn how to do it?” I asked Lexie quickly when Nia looked away.
“It won’t matter because we’ll be sent away or dead.”
I studied her eyes to see if she was joking. Her grin had fled, and a touch of fear lurked in her eyes. With a shrug, she turned away, latching onto one of the platters and serving herself a hearty portion of meat.
If I’d grown up here, would I have been allowed to let my magic bloom? I could’ve learned to make flames dance in my palms instead of hiding them. I would’ve been praised instead of living in constant fear of discovery. Here, I wouldn’t have to pretend to be the perfect, powerless princess.
The thought was dangerous, seductive.
Stop it,I told myself. I’d come to this place to find revenge and free the children. Nothing more.
A thousand questions burned in my mind, but I filled my trencher and ate. Pretended I wasn’t unsettled inside.
As dinner progressed, I studied the small creatures everyone but we recruits appeared to have with them.
Wings fluttered and tiny bursts of light flashed as they flitted through the air or scampered from one place to another. A bright blue bird swooped between the rafters, eventually soaring down toland on a man’s shoulder. A fox-sized beast with gray-tipped fur sat by the table to our left, gobbling up bits of dropped food. A fist-sized dragon perched on the edge of an older woman’s plate, delicately taking pieces of meat and eating. After each bite, it tipped its head back and shot a finger-length burst of flames into the air, nearly catching the woman’s long gray hair on fire. She didn’t seem to notice or even care. And maybe she didn’t if she could use magic to put out the fire.
No one here appeared to be going mad.
I’d taken a seat near the end of our table, where I could observe without looking like I was staring. The perfect position for gathering intelligence, I’d thought when I sat, though I suspected I wouldn’t learn anything new tonight.
The head table sat on a raised dais to my right, elevated enough that those seated there could survey the entire hall. It remained empty for the first part of the meal. Then the arched door behind the table opened and a group of men and women strode out, the king among them. All but he wore scuffed leather like Malcom, and it clung to their bodies like a second skin.
King Trewyn—Trew,as everyone appeared to call him—had changed into a deep blue tunic that brought out the gold in his eyes. Dark pants that were simple but expertly tailored. The fabric shifted to reveal the lines of his powerful frame beneath as he strode to the middle of the table.
I told myself I was studying him for tactical purposes. Know your enemy. But the way my pulse quickened when his gaze swept the room had nothing to do with strategy.
He sat, the others arranging themselves around him with the unconscious deference of a pack acknowledging its alpha. Well, except for the seat to his right that remained empty. Without looking our way, the others served themselves from platters that magically appeared in front of them, their conversation too low to overhear but animated enough to suggest they were discussing something heated.
Trew served himself. Ate.
Whenever his gaze swept the room, it would linger on our table. No, onme. Each time, I forced myself to focus on my meal. It was tasty. Well-seasoned and worthy of anything served at my father’s table.
If Trew recognized me from the Day of Mercy, I’d be dead or in chains. Yet I still felt like prey being watched by a patient hunter.
I was reaching for my wine cup when a woman dressed in dark leathers with long, vivid red hair hanging down her back strolled through the archway behind the high table. She approached Trew with the confidence of someone who belonged at his side, violence contained in human form, all sharp muscles and controlled predatory grace.
She was beautiful. Dangerous. Perfect for a king who ruled through strength.
She dropped into the seat beside him and leaned into his side, sliding her arm around his shoulder.
Only the bracelet entwined around her left wrist looked out of place.
Actually, it wasn’t a bracelet, but a death adder. Thin and sleek, its blood-red scales gleamed like polished jewels as it tightened and released around her arm.
