Daisy explains, “The Book of the Almightyforetells how the world will end. It says death will paint the sky black in the last hour. Which sounds to me a lot like birds dropping dead. Combined with the river drying up, those are two clear indicators that the Four Wars are at hand. And we’re already fighting Sontaag….” Perhaps recalling her audience, Daisy catches herself and trails off.
Sandria’s eyes are blazing. Her two cousins are watchful—perhaps intrigued by Daisy’s terror, or just morbidly curious.
The princess asks Daisy the same thing I’m also speculating about. “Is your family devout?”
“My mother is. Especially since she got sick. And my nana. I don’t make it to chapel much, but I try.”
I don’t envy Daisy for whatever fears gnaw at her. Followers of the Verdish Church have harsh ideas about saints and sinners in the end times. Considering I’m Elvenanda magic wielder, Daisy would probably think I belong firmly in the second category, if she knew the truth.
“Well, you’re better than me,” Sandria drawls. “I haven’t visited a temple since I was home. That’s more than five years at this point.”
I catch a glimmer behind the princess’s eyes—a well-concealed longing. Maybe Sandria has parts of herself that she keeps tucked away, too.
Daisy looks grateful for the change in subject. “Right. You worship the Old Gods in Ursandor. How does that work? Do you pray to them all at once, or one at a time?”
I try to look uninterested in the princess’s answer.
“There aren’t specific rules,” says Sandria mildly. “Traditionalist families typically adopt a particular deity depending on their values or occupation. A family of warriors would keep an altar to Orix, for example, because he’s the God of War. A Healer like Lyria, for example”—our eyes lock—“would pray to Elowyn, Queen of the Gods and Goddess of Life.”
Did she mean to suggest something? My eyes narrow. Was the suggestion innocent, the insinuation unintentional? Does Sandria do anything without intention?
“I keep an altar to Aurelis,” one of the cousins interjects. I look over to see who’s spoken. It’s the smaller of the two. Her nose is slightly longer, her look slightly more austere. Her eyes are a bright, startling violet.
“Right, and that’s why you’re so gorgeous,” Sandria coos, tweaking her nose.
To my relief, there are no more discussions of Gods and wars. We continue until the carriage splits from the road, and we turn for a gravel path leading up and up through the hills. At the end of a driveway, the Thornes’ summer home comes into view.
The manor crouches atop a cliffside in a way that reminds me of a vulture squatting over its meal. This is splendid Hartland terrain: snow-capped mountains, a sparkling lake, and lush land teeming with critters and birds. The house is built from fine white granite, and soaring columns adorn its huge, gilded entryway.
A hundred-piece orchestra greets the guests as we arrive. Daisy is in heaven; Sandria looks like it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before. The place has been well-designed to facilitate airflow; the doors are flung open, and guests stream freely through the front door, across the entryway, and into the grand ballroom, which has symmetrical back windows overlooking the sparkling sea beyond. A party is sprawled across the back lawn.
A group of servants swarms the carriage to help us out and take our bags. Sandria says something about helping her cousins get settled and flits away, leaving Daisy and me to descend into the revelers. As we make our way into the heart of the celebration, I gain some sense as to why Finn felt socertain that Sebastian is his parents’ favored child. The scale of the party is mind-bending. No expense can have been spared. Carnival tents spring from the lawns, plump, well-dressed children are being led around on the backs of ponies, and beyond the placid fountains, I see dozens of hot-air balloons, a menagerie, and other head-spinning delights. The sun is high, but the guests are already deep in their cups. I spot some courtiers I recognize, laughing loudly and looking punchier than usual.
It doesn’t take me long to find him. Finn stands a good head taller than the sycophants clustered around him, except for the lanky blond figure at his side. Sebastian looks relaxed, at least as much as someone in the center of this scale of a celebration might be. Mingling near the Verdish princes are Odessa—looking like a fashionable goat in a double-pronged headdress—and a handsome boy who resembles her. I assume that’s Prince Roman, heir of Sulnik, and Sebastian’s groom-to-be. While Odessa wears the same haughty look she had during the feast, her brother looks far less icy as he smiles lovingly at Sebastian. The group laughs as Finn suddenly jumps, corkscrewing bizarrely, and then lands. Cue more laughter. I’m sure he’s doing something hilarious, recounting a story or performing an impression, being thefun one. If he notices me, he doesn’t show it.
I look away when my chest starts to ache.
“Are you hungry?” Sandria materializes at my side. “I spoke with Queen Davina. She said dinner isn’t until seven but we’re welcome to send for something from the kitchen.”
She smells like vanilla. I’m very conscious that I’ve already begun sweating in the sun, but Sandria looks as unruffled as she always does. There is something so infuriatingly effortless about her. Meanwhile, my hair is rumpled from the carriage. My kerchief itches. Even in the pretty pink frock that Daisy helpedme pick for the occasion, I look nowhere near as glamorous as Sandria.
The princess seizes my wrist, dragging me toward the lawn. “Come on! I want to try that hot-air balloon!”
Sandria pulls me across the sweet-smelling grass, with Daisy chasing to keep up. The pair want to ride every hot-air balloon, but in the end, we settle on three. Sandria squeals with delight every time we are lifted in the air, and Daisy clutches me in distress through each. I’ve never cared for heights, but it’s thrilling to see the party from this angle, with guests scattered across the lawn like so many specks of pepper.
After the hot-air balloons, we tour the menagerie. It’s run by a nice older man with a mustache who tells us with a wink to expect a special surprise after dinner.
We’re sunburned and starving by the time the guests are called back inside. Sandria started drinking wine at our arrival and hasn’t stopped, so she’s much more talkative than usual. Daisy is slightly more sober but nonetheless swept up in the giddiness of the day. The princess whispers something into her ear, and they start laughing so loudly it almost sounds like screaming. Nobody else nearby minds. An inebriated atmosphere has slipped over the whole party, and plenty of others are laughing raucously.
The enthusiasm grates on my nerves as we follow the crowd up into the banquet hall. My body begins to tense at the memory of my last meal with the court. Sandria was there at the feast when the prisoner was slaughtered. How is she so relaxed now? When I look around—at the fountains of wine, and the hundreds of candles, and the opulent trimmings—I see flaunted iniquity. Spoils of the Long War.
Ursandor is supposed to be sympathetic to the cause of Evermoreans. How can Sandria revel so thoughtlessly, knowing all this bounty is stolen?
I’m not sure if Finn has seen me yet. At the royal table, he’s surrounded again by young ladies and lords, orbiting the Verdish princes like a system of planets. Odessa looks stunning tonight. Her pale blue gown plunges nearly to her navel, showcasing her figure. She sits right next to Finn, her chair pushed as close as possible. I can’t stop staring as she leans in to touch his forearm. Her hand rests there until somebody makes a joke and Finn jumps up in a performance of howling laughter.
I force myself to look away.
It’d be better if I could put him out of my mind entirely. But that’s not possible. Even after weeks of not speaking, I’m so attuned to his presence that it actuallyhurts. Perhaps this is a strange development of my Talent, or just a physical manifestation of my unbearable longing to see him. To touch him. I’d give anything to spend another hour together in the garden, just breathing and being together. Like that day at the waterfall, when we felt like we were the only two people in the world.
