“You will? Why?” I ask.
“It is tradition. As king, I must. But this celebration in your honor means you will be exposed. Our enemies will not announce before they strike.”
“You think the leaders of the horde clans mean me harm?” I ask.
A low growl makes the hairs on my nape lift. “Not if they wish to die.”
I frown at the faintest crack of bones and the ripple of fur as his eyes lighten to gold and flash back to onyx. His fingers clench and unclench.
“I have an idea,” Laleh pipes up. “Open a portal and send us home. Problem solved.”
If looks could kill, my friend would be ash when Darrius swivels in her direction, nostrils flaring. “She. Stays.”
The king speaks as though it’s through a mouthful of fangs, his gaze glinting the gold of the manticore and turning utterly feral.
Without another word or heated glance in my direction, Darrius turns and leaves. I blink, shocked at his brusque manner, though by now I should not be. I fight the urge to run after him and keep myself firmly planted at Laleh’s side. The king can manage his own curse.
Ani clears her throat and bows slightly. “Forgive my brother. He’s... worried.”
“What were you going to say before?” I ask. “He can claim what?”
Her cheeks redden. “Never mind.”
“Ani.”
“You should let your friend rest,” the princess says. She looks at Laleh. “Your presence is not required at the feast, but you are welcome if you feel well enough.”
Laleh lets out a cackle. “Oh, I would not miss that for the world.”
Ani takes her leave after speaking quietly to the healer. As I rise from the bed, Laleh grips my fingers as though she doesn’t want me to go. “Promise me we will get a chance to really talk later.”
“We will.” I peer at her, a belated thought occurring to me. “Laleh, was I romantically involved with the new king of Oryndhr?” I pause, the words tying up my tongue. “I’m not engaged or married to him or anything, am I?”
Her brow furrows, a peculiar, confused look passing over her face. “No, you’re not.” She shakes her head, but then, it’s as if a dark cloud lifts because she grins and winks. “Don’t think you and I won’t have a nice long chat about all thatthrobbingsexual tension earlier, so save me a dance tonight,” she warns, waggling her eyebrows.
I shake my head and release a breathless laugh at her glee.
Good to know that in all of this chaos some things never change.
***
THE FEAST TAKESplace in the massive open meadow behind the castle. The expansive grounds are covered with colorful tents, and music spills from the biggest one at the center, while the smaller ones appear to house foods, curiosities, and various performers, including magical fire eaters, ice wielders, and earth carvers.
Multicolored lanterns dance over the whole space, held aloft and in place by air magic, and cast rainbow prisms over everything.
Despite the reason for the feast, I can’t help feeling a small thrill of excitement.
“Come, Lady Suraya,” Ziba calls, tugging me away from my window. “Let’s get you ready.”
Two handmaidens enter my chambers, holding a gold-spangled black gown threaded with crimson. Red, gold, and black, the royal colors of Everlea.Hiscolors. I open my mouth to protest, but Ziba shoots me a quelling look. “The dress is Everlean. You will cause great offense if you refuse to wear it.”
I press my lips together. She’s laying it on rather thickly. “Fine,” I mutter.
The gown is gorgeous, the gossamer fabric sparkling ethereally. The women carefully pull the voluminous folds over my head, letting the tiny cap sleeves fall into place over my shoulders and lacing the bodice at the back. The skirts tumble down in panels of luminous midnight silk—and it feels like I’m wearing nothing.
“It’s spelled,” Ziba whispers. “The fabric is as impenetrable as armor.”
My eyes widen in disbelief, and she flicks my dagger, point first, across the edge of the skirt. I gasp, already mourning the ruin of the dress, but nothing tears or even wrinkles. “Incredible,” I say. She smiles and bends to lift the hem and fasten the thigh harness in place.
