“Yeah, Lach, whatever were you jesting about?” I taunt him.
He narrows his blue eyes and mouths words that make me smile extra-wide.
Lachlano’s saved from answering by my mother conveniently beckoning my father away to meet a man, short in stature, but lofty in status, given the number of medals weighing down his lapel.
“Good evening, my little loves.” Mimi draws closer on Bisnonno Justus’s arm, resplendent in her gown sewn from the same navy velvet as her husband’s uniform.
Though my great-grandfather, the illustrious General of Luce, wears the Crow feather beneath his right eye, he hasn’t striped his face tonight. Then again, he doesn’t often wear makeup, grousing that it gets on all his shirt collars.
Mimi lets go of Bisnonno, then proceeds to cup our four faces and press a kiss to each of our brows while whispering her maxim of the day. It’s never the same and always eerily apropos.
Like mine, tonight: “True love can save a life.”
Granted, it could mean a number of things and have nothing to do with my mortal mate, but still, it glides down my nape like a cool finger.
“You look positively radiant tonight, Mimi,” Lachlano says.
“Why, thank you, sweetheart.” Her rubellite eyes cycle over the four of us before perching on Bisnonno. “Bliss will do that to a woman.”
My great-grandfather smiles at her. Some say they make an odd couple, but I love their relationship—born from necessity but fostered by true affection.
Bisnonno wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Thanks to you, my little island, I am now six gold coins and two favors wealthier.”
I tilt my face. “Thanks to me?”
“I may have wagered whether you’d find a way to attend the Jubilee.” His blue eyes shimmer with mirth. “Funny how so many believe you to be less impetuous than your mother.”
I snort.
“So, what are we going to do with all that gold?” he asks.
“Shingles.”
“Cure the human affliction?”
“No. I mean, we should, but… While flying over Selvati the other day, I noticed that the sandstorms did a number on the rooftops. People have heaped old crates covered in carpets to plug the holes. That cannot be sanitary or waterproof.”
After mirth comes pride. Bisnonno loves how invested I am in Luce’s betterment.
“Shingles, it’ll be.” He utters a protracted hum.
“What?” I ask.
“The building material Nebbans use for their vessels. I was just thinking that perhaps it could be made into roof coverings.”
“That’d be brilliant, Bisnonno!”
“I’m going to go discuss this with Giana right this minute.”
“Tell me what she says.”
“Naturally.” He squeezes my shoulder. “I’m glad you came.” He turns but then looks past his thick, silver-orange braid at me, his expression serious. “Just promise not to venture over Glace without an escort. We’re not in Luce, Isla.”
In other words: Luce is safe; Glace isn’t. Also, he’s used my Crow-given name, which he only does when something is of the utmost seriousness.
My gaze skips over the swanning crowd. Many are foreigners, but many are also from here. I wonder whether they sense the unrest and fear it, and then I wonder what they think of their king.
Across the twinkling sea of bejeweled dignitaries, guards, and nobles, I catch sight of Konstantin. Not quite a feat considering his hair is as blinding as the snow swirling outside and he lords over most, thanks to his tall build.
