Skylar knows Izzo is trying to offer comfort—as much comfort asever exists between them, anyway, but that’s not what she needs right now. She needs answers.
“I’ll see you later,” she says, not even looking at Izzo as she strides past her and into their camp, ignoring the others who are passing around a bottle of akavit, and heading straight for Aldric’s tent. It’s bigger than the rest of theirs, with two different areas—living space and bedroom—while the rest of them have just one. Skylar has never known whether the grandeur is down to an illusion or if it’s really as nice as it appears. She suspects the former, given it can’t be this big in reality—and because she always thinks she can feel the pulse of magic when she’s in here.
Aldric is shrugging out of his waistcoat and dumping it on the back of his desk chair. He glances over his shoulder at her. His illusion has shifted—his hair now more brown than red, eyes a lighter shade of blue. She’s wondered, more than once, what he really looks like behind his many masks.
“Yes, Sugarplum?”
She slams the poster down on the desk—wooden, which is almost impossible to come by in Vatra, and therefore coveted.
He doesn’t even look at it as he takes a bag of money from his pocket, throws it down next to his dragonglass sculpture.
“Did you know about this?” she demands.
Finally, he glances down at the poster. The paper is faded, the edges torn, but it reads clearly all the same.
Aldric pushes the poster away, slumps into his chair behind the desk. “Of course I knew about it. The whole Arach-damned country knows about it. This isn’t a new thing, Sugarplum—where have you been?”
And, yes, okay, she knew about conscription, knew that the king has been rounding up Blooded to serve in his army, but until this point it’s always seemed like a vague concept, happening to people other than them. She doesn’t know anyone who has been taken—the virtue of moving around so much, perhaps. Aldric and Cam, the only Blooded in their troupe, aren’t even on the Blooded Register the royals claim is mandatory. Given the Blooded claim to have inherited their powers from the dragons themselves, she’d expect them to be more highly valued in society—but right now, being Bloodless is clearly the way forward.
“And yet you brought us here. Into danger.”
“Well,you’renot in danger,” he says pointedly.
She opens her mouth, closes it again. He’s right, she tells herself.
You are not Blooded, Skylar.
Her mother’s voice. She’s not heard it in fifteen years, since her mother was killed, but she can conjure those words easily enough—the thing her mother drilled into her, over and over. Sometimes accompanied by a sad shake of her head or a hand, running down Skylar’s hair.
Aldric gives a satisfied nod at whatever he sees on Skylar’s face. “It was a calculated risk,” he continues. “And, look, we’ve made more than a usual week in one show.” He gestures to the money bag on the desk. “I told you, didn’t I? Everyone is flocking here because of the duel.”
Right. The duel that she doesn’t give two shits about. But apparently the rest of the country wants to watch almighty Prince Zryan kill the witch princess for sport. And that’s why Aldric brought them here weeks ago, three months before the duel was even due to start.Because it’s not just the duel itself—there’s the so-called grand arrival, the parade—plenty of opportunities to bulk up their takings, while the heirs are being shown off in the weeks counting down to the fight.
We might get to see the dragons, Lar.She can hear the wistful longing in Cam’s voice, remembers how his warm brown eyes had lit up.
She twists the ring on her finger—the one he found among Izzo’s takings. A black band with a glittering ruby stone.For you, O Mighty Dagger Queen.
She rolled her eyes.What am I supposed to do with a ring?
It’s a circle. Circles are eternal.He gave her one of those floppy smiles—the type he used when he was winding her up.Like our friendship.
She shoved at him, laughing.You’re such a nerd.But she put the ring on, anyway.
“Cam is missing,” she says to Aldric. “He’s gone—don’t you get that?”
Stand trial before the king.Is that what’s happened? Has he been taken? Because Cam is Blooded. And he’s a Projector. One of the more common Blooded orders. Useful for Aldric—because Cam had been able to Project into people’s minds, advertising their performances, while staying out of harm’s way—and warn them if he saw trouble approaching. Not much use in a fight, which presumably is why Projectors haven’t been recruited before. So why now?
Aldric waves an unconcerned hand in the air. “He might show up.”
But Skylar doesn’t think so—because she knows Cam. Her best friend, the one person in the entire world she loves. He wouldn’t have left her—and if he’d gone somewhere of his own accord, he would have Projected a thought to her, telling her he was okay. She’d snuck out once on her own, when she was about fourteen. He went absolutely ballistic when she got back—and they agreed, they wouldn’t do it again without telling each other.
Then there’s the other thing—something she told Aldric last night, though he brushed it off. The flash of fear she felt—his last Projection to her, a jumble of thoughts that meant one thing. He was afraid.
“And if he doesn’t?” Skylar demands.
Aldric shrugs. “Then he’s been taken.” Skylar feels anger surge in her veins. She knows Aldric is a selfish bastard, but this isCamtheyare talking about. “Now, now, Sugarplum,” he says, catching sight of her expression. “There’s nothing I can do, is there?”
“You can find him. We can look for him. Before he stands trial.”
