“Astraea,” she said and smiled.
“Cordelia.” I held out my hand. Why I’d given my mother’s name, I was unsure.
Astraea’s eyes fell to my gesture, then she laughed. It was a light, sing-song sort of sound. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Cordelia.” She shook my hand.
“Likewise.”
“How is your head, dear?” She took a seat in the chair beside mine.
“Better,” I replied almost too quickly. “Thank you for asking. I should be going.”
Astraea ran her thumb over her bottom lip, looking out to the courtyard behind me. “I would like to level with you, woman to woman.”
Curiosity tugged at me, and despite my better sense, I indulged her. “Yes, of course.”
“You saw me with that man, did you not?”
Right. Glancing past her, I found he was no longer with us. “I believe I saw you speaking with a guard.” I chose the words carefully.
The corner of Astraea’s lips twitched up, and again she laughed. “This is not an interrogation,” she said, tone light, placing one of her gloved hands on my knee. “Did you find him handsome?”
I should be with my brother back at our wagon, pretending to be ignorant and sipping tea. “I did not get a good look at him.”
The touch on my leg was light, and when the woman sighed and sat back, she removed it to straighten her elegant champagne gown. The ruby necklace that rested between her breasts caught in the light of a chandelier and glimmered. “It has been some time since I spoke with a woman outside of the court, one with whom I didn’t have to keep up a façade.”
Sighing, I relaxed my shoulders. “He was charming to look at,” I acquiesced.
Astraea’s face lit up. “Yes.” She smiled. “I thought so as well. I ask, though, will you keep this discreet? My husband can be a jealous man.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Good.” She rose from her seat and extended her hand. I accepted it, letting her draw me to my feet. “We women must keep so many things cloaked in shadow, must we not? Sometimes I fancy the thought of having been born a man, just so as not to have to sneak about for the simplest of pleasures.”
Unable to resist, I scoffed. “I can empathize with that.”
The clinking of metal brought a hush to our secret conversation. I peered over my shoulder to where young Calix stood with another guardsman. This one was of a higher ranking than the last, his uniform embellished with honors, glinting trinkets revealing his many acts of service to the kingdom. The commander, I suspected. The man bore a rigid, unfriendly expression and sported short black hair. Peppering stubble lined his jaw.
“Commander Rion.” Astraea’s easy smile faltered as she addressed the man. She gave me one last glance, apologetic almost. In a notion of casual familiarity that surprised me, she leaned in to my ear. “Enjoy the festival.” A warm, gossiping tone filled her light voice. Then she regained her composure and left my side to join Calix and the commander.
Adjusting my mask, I dismissed myself, skirting the group to give them privacy. The commander caught and held my eyes for a moment as I passed. His hand went to the hilt of a dagger sheathed in a scabbard at his back. The man’s uniform was similar to the guard’s from before—fitted black leather with an arrangement of straps and buckles.
It wasn’t until I exited the gathering room and stepped into the open hall of archways overlooking the courtyard that I relieved my lungs, drawing in a sharp breath. The confrontation in the gathering room had left my heart pounding, and though part of me knew I’d seen something I wasn’t meant to, I couldn’t deny the rush it had given me.
Pockets empty and a curling warmth of rebellion swelling within my chest, I headed toward the platform stage and the bar set into the wall just beyond.
7
NEIRIN
I skirtedthe crowd and made my way to a bar set back in an alcove, out of view of the balcony. Greenery grew along the dome of the massive stone arch, beautiful in the daylight. By the dim glow of sconces, the plants appeared only as shadows, their leaves shuddering when a breeze caught them. Uncanny, almost, like the many small wings of bats.
Sitting atop a wooden stool, I worked the brass buttons of one of the stiff pockets of my guard’s uniform and called to Sindri, the barkeep. He dismissed himself from whatever conversation he was having with a few men at the opposite end of the bar and raised a hand in acknowledgment.
I flipped a silver coin, waiting, watching as the bard bowed, brow gleaming with sweat in the flickering orange light. The crowd clapped, and the higher voices of the ladies called out, encouraging him. I shook my head as the young man feigned surprise at their reactions and conceded to playing one last song.
The rose hip scent of the Queen lingered on my uniform. My gut wrenched, and I subconsciously rubbed at the tender spot beneath my left ear. Another matched it just above my hipbone, but I tried to push those thoughts aside. Impatient, I placed afinger atop the coin I held and, with my other hand, flicked its edge, sending it in a spiral of circles before me.
Sindri approached and leaned against the bar, bracing himself on his forearms.
