My stomach twists. “Or Torbin. What if he sent it? What if he’s alive and… this is his way of saying Dante won’t have power over him? That even if Dante becomes a prince, he’ll never win?”
I look down at the pendant. The etched lines shimmer faintly in the firelight—like veins. Like scars.
“He’s toying with us,” I say. Whoever sent this is trying to make me believe that Dante is vulnerable. That his voice—his birthright—can be taken from him.
ChApter
Fourteen
I’ve been back at Ivystone for two days, and I haven’t seen Dante once.
Not because I haven’t tried. But because the palace walls have grown thicker in my absence, its halls more crowded with courtiers and guards and attendants eager to keep Dante and me on opposite ends of every corridor.
Things have apparently moved forward quickly while I was away. The first thing I was told—by Indira, as I’d been stripping out of my gear upon my return—was that the king would be throwing a banquet, and everyone was required to attend. But it was Nadya who filled me in on how word regarding Dante’s legitimization had traveled quickly throughout Ivystone. Apparently, courtiers love to gossip.
The servants finish styling our hair for the banquet and leave the room. The black mourning dress I’m stuffed into is stifling, but at least I don’t have to wear the half-veil, as it isn’t required at meals.
“Do you think the king is trying to save face by jumping in front of the rumor?” I ask Nadya once we’re alone. “Making it official before the whispers take over?”
I’m relying on Nadya for information, since Indira will only tell meso much, and, I couldn’t even find Ezra to ask him. Evidently, he’s been sequestered to join the tour to continue my lessons because the king wants my schooling to be finished before the wedding. So Ezra’s been busy preparing for the new task.
“I heard that most of the other realms sent their nightfeathers rushing back with their responses to King Silas’s request to hold an audience with them. Apparently, they’re all desperate to make peace with Torbin’s passing by welcoming a new heir.”
“Something about that doesn’t sit right with me. Don’t get me wrong, this is good news for Dante, but I feel as if the other realms aren’t blinking twice at sweeping Torbin’s…demise… under the rug.”
“It’s a mad world, I suppose.”
“With even madder kings and queens.”
“We’ll soon see,” Nadya says, checking the back of her dress in the mirror. “We leave for the legitimization tour tomorrow morning.”
Barely enough time to catch my fucking breath.
Half an hour later, we stand at the edge of the banquet hall beneath a vaulted ceiling. The murmur of the crowd presses in on me, causing the same annoyance I feel when an insect flies too close to my ear. Servants approach us and lead us to our table near the back of the hall.
I’m seated nowhere near Dante. The king made sure of that. I sit with Nadya, flanked by ladies of the court who barely look at me save for brief condolences offered in hollow tones. I nod in return, grateful I have an excuse not to be lively. Mourning, after all, doesn’t pair well with wine and conversation.
The king has hidden me in the back because he doesn’t want me seen tonight. Not as anything more than the grieving princess. Not as Dante’s future. That is one rumor we need to keep quiet. Not just for Dante’s sake, but for the legacy of Hedera.
But tonight, I don’t mind being hidden. There will be enough eyes on me in the coming months to make my skin itch. So for once, I’m grateful for his plotting.
I try to catch a glimpse of Dante, but there are so many people in the room, and I’m seated so far away. I shift slightly, craning my neck tosee around the flurry of velvet sleeves and embroidered silk that crowds the high table. And then a courtier with a tower of hair piled upon her head finally moves out of the way, and I see him. Dante sits beside the king like a trophy finally brought out for display. His tunic is black, finely cut and embroidered at the cuffs in gleaming silver thread, with a narrow collar that fastens just beneath his throat. His dark hair is combed back but remains unruly at the ends. I can tell he’s putting on a show—most likely as he’s been instructed—with his shoulders broad, spine straight, and polite smile. But the flicker in his eyes betrays his discomfort. The king claps him on the back now and then between gulps of wine, loud and proud, as if every gesture is meant to hammer in the claim—mine, mine, mine.
My heart tightens. It’s been more than a week since I last saw him. He hasn’t returned to the balcony, not since I came back from Delasurvia. I told myself he’s been busy, kept occupied by the king’s plans, by endless meetings behind closed doors. But still… I miss him. And when his eyes lift, skimming the room, they find mine in an instant—like a match struck in the dark. Something pulls taut inside me, sharp and electric. I want to continue holding the look, but once again, the king pats Dante’s back, and his focus is pulled away.
The banquet hall is filled to capacity. Musicians play a gentle melody in the corner, while servants pass between the rows of long tables with platters of roasted meats, braided breads, and dried fruits soaked in brandy. Gold light flickers from the hundreds of candles set in polished sconces, and I can’t help but notice how sharply the green and gold banners gleam above the hall tonight—brighter somehow, more triumphant. The court is dressed for celebration, not grief.
The king stands at his table, and the room goes quiet, the crowd listening with rapt attention.
“As I’m sure you’ve all heard,” King Silas begins, his voice echoing easily through the hall, “the rumors are true. I plan to legitimize my son Dante.”
The room hushes all at once, save for a few gasps and the sound of a goblet being set too hard against wood.
“I am pleased to announce that we have already received word back from four great realms of Terre Ferique. Podrosa, Bastos, Messanya, and Mersos have all accepted the invitation. The legitimization tour will begin tomorrow, with our first stop in Podrosa. From there, we travel to Bastos, then onward to Messanya and Mersos.”
There’s no mention of Alphemra. The land of the fae rarely deigns to host visiting kings. I doubt they’ll make an exception now, even for a legitimization.
King Silas spreads his arms as if bestowing a blessing. “Tonight, let us take joy. Let us raise our cups to strength, unity, and legacy. We feast as we ask the gods for to bless our journey. Tomorrow, we ride.”
