Just like him to mark his territory.
Elvi gasps and sets the comb down. I don’t need second-sight to read the longing in her eyes as she lifts the diadem and studies it. Only members of the coterie are permitted to wear jewels, though I’d gladly give it to her if I could.
She positions the diadem, weaving silk ribbons through my hair to secure it. She steps away.
‘Won’t you look at yourself – just this once? The stones match your hair beautifully.’
I shake my head. It doesn’t matter how lovely the gown is, how twinkly the diadem, I’ll only see a monster staring back at me in the glass; the outward defects a physical manifestation of my twisted nature.
‘I told you Lord Astrophel can be thoughtful.’ Elvi pauses, worries her bottom lip. ‘I wouldn’t have survived my training at the Asteum without him. I’ll never forget how he stood up for me to defend your honour, to safeguard the reputation of his lady’s liegemaid.’
‘If I’d been allowed to go, I could have protected you,’ I say. I don’t add that Astrophel likely stood up to her bullies not on my account, but because their taunts touched a nerve for the bastard-born king-in-waiting. ‘They never would have dared torment you in my presence, and if they had I—’
‘Would’ve rushed in without thinking and got us both in trouble again?’ Elvi cracks a wry smile, reaches for my hand. ‘All I’m saying is, given the choice of consort was never yours to make, you could have done a lot worse…’
I’m about to snap that there should never have been a consort to worry about – not for me – when pinpricks of light splinter my vision.
I’m assaulted by a glimpse of Astrophel through the lens of Elvi’s heart: Astrophel the Avenger, protecting her from jibes about her peak-white hair, coarse accent and humble ancestry.
I jerk my hand away, keeping my eyes carefully lowered, as giddiness and momentary blindness wash over me. This is new. I’ve never seen inside another’s mind in this way before. More evidence of my growing powers, the threat those powers represent…
So little is known of the Dusk Sister’s magic. Only that we Branded can wield it once we come of age and step into the fullness of our Sister-given abilities. Using Light Lore, the brandmagic gifted to me by the Dawn Sister, drains the body. There’s always a price to pay for scrying – keeping things in eternal balance. But it’s only a temporary weakening. Shadow Lore, the Dusk Sister’s blood-bound magic, grants greater mastery over the Aethers, but it feeds on a person’s spirit, breaks it, along with their minds, and unlike Light Lore, its effects are permanent. The Elemagi proved that, under its dominion, our powers can twist, become monstruous – a ravenous force we can’t control, eating through all restraint, all consideration of right from wrong, till we burn worlds. Till we become Arden Incenzo.
The disdainful, petty-minded Astrophel I know doesn’t tally at all with Elvi’s romantic image of him. But now I understand her tears, the cold shoulder since I fled the palace. It wasn’t just about the flogging – no, it’s so much worse than that. I can’t believe I never guessed her secret.
‘Elvi, I’m so sorry,’ I say.
She turns to me, brow arched.
Stars, now I’ve done it.
I want to wrap my arms around Elvi and comfort her, acknowledge her suffering, her love that can never be spoken. But exposing her private thoughts would only humiliate her. Worse still, it could sign her death warrant. My father’s Watchers are everywhere. If word of her attachment ever got out, it might be construed an attempt to undermine the future of the Stellarion dynasty – tantamount to treason, since Astrophel is promised to me.
And I’m not ready to expose myself. If people learn I can read minds as well as glimpse the future, wary glances would turn openly hostile.
I change the subject. ‘How long until I need to leave?’
Elvi checks the candle clock. ‘A quarter hour. I’d best tidy your chamber. Prepare things for… later.’ Her cheeks pink as she hurries through the doorway.
The thought of what’s going to happen the next time I lie in that bed sparks a wave of nausea.
My fingers stray towards the left-hand drawer. My heart skips as I slide back its false bottom, lifting a tattered volume from the secret recess.
An Arcelian Bestiary. I inhale the must of old parchment and flick through the yellowed pages, tracing the illuminations. Many of these creatures are extinct thanks to the Sickening, others, like the sylvanmares and pearlsprites, I’ve never seen because they’re native to the enemy realms. I turn to an image of an emberwing, Guardians of the East. It’s beautiful in all its burnished ferocity. I tear the page from the book. I’ll use it to make one last sculpture, present it to my father as a gift. He’ll never know what it’s made from. I hug that knowledge to myself and smile.
The key to the Reliquary sits on the edge of the desk, where the Mistress of Locks left it this morning. No part of me wants to venture inside that room, but only the heir apparent is permitted to collect the insignia of office ahead of the succession.
My father has choreographed tonight’s ceremonies with military precision. Astrophel is to collect me from the Reliquary after I’ve retrieved the insignia, then escort me to the Watching Chamber, where I’ll perform the succession rites. The main event – the binding – will take place in the Rotunda in the palace gardens. Followed by a feast in the ballroom to celebrate both our nuptials and my coming-of-age.
I’ve only been allowed into the Reliquary once before. Izarius took me there soon after he began tutoring me, to show me its collection of sacred images and ancient artefacts.
I was afraid of the Reliquary then, and I’m still afraid of it now.
A gasp. I wheel around to find Elvi standing behind me.
She’s looking at the emberwing illustration, face scrunching like a peak-pansy. ‘You promised you got rid of those books.’
‘I tried to burn it with the others, but I-I couldn’t bear to destroy it.’
