Beneath my fingers, the stones of the carcanet seemed to have a pulse of their own, though it could have been the hammering of my heart. The weight of the necklace against my chest felt like inevitability. However unprepared I was, my fate always led here.
I’d train and study harder, grow stronger than any other enchantress in the realms in every subject, become an unstoppable weapon; that was what we needed.
Unable to part with it so soon, I’d convinced my father to lend me his sword belt to wear the Sword of Isolde for the evening. Mama had frowned at how the scabbard clashed with the elegance of my gown, but she hadn’t argued as I’d expected her to.
Until I could devise an escape to the boathouse, I’d need to bear the itchy woven bust and the way the laces dug uncomfortably into my ribs for a while longer. I craved the light silks and linens of the Sahlms. Like migrating birds, my family would return there once fall broke the sweltering heat in the desert region.
If only the night would progress more quickly.
Dritan would love to hold his father’s former blade; the thought elicited a smile. I stood against a wall, shielded from half the room by a thick marble pillar, willing the crowd to thin. Itwasa lovely party, but the one person I wished to see most couldn’t be in attendance.
When I’d met a young orphan in the Luz gardens, I’d been skeptical of him at first. Years of friendship had formed into something more. Yet our last conversation had left me antsy and disappointed.
A hand reached in front of me, clinking a glass to mine. “Cheers, cousin. To yourfirst eversip of spirit.”
Hurley’s mop of brown hair was untamed, his shirt collar askew. Surely, he’d just come back from some tryst in the gardens. The Water-wielding Officer of Sahlmsara took after Uncle Fen.
I lifted the punch glass. “Whyeverdo you use that tone?” My voice dripped with sarcasm—the language most commonly spoken between us. “You did this?”
He chuckled. “For once, no. I watched Aunt El spike it. Thank the Sources. What a drag these things are without a little liquid courage for dancing.”
My cousin had caught me a year prior sneaking a bottle from my father’s wine cellar at Umber House. He had uncorked it and, instead of telling my parents, joined me for a drink. It used to bother me as a girl how he’d grown so quickly; at eleven years apart, we’d only shared childhood for a fleeting time. That night,splitting a bottle, he had spoken to me as a peer again. Since then, we’d been inseparable.
“Not dancing tonight?” he asked, holding out his hand in an offer.
I shook my head and crinkled my nose. “I prefer to watch.”
His hand dropped. “Aunt Sybilla sure knows how to throw a party...” he mused and sipped his wine again, eyes trailing over the ladies standing along the far wall who waited for a hand offered to dance.
Some of them blushed and looked away when his eyes fell on them.
“Why aren’tyoudancing? You’re breaking the hearts of the future Mrs. Hurley Lamoreaux hopefuls.”
Hurley had taken Fenris’ surname years ago when he and Asterie officially adopted him.
“I was, but I lost my date.”
I huffed a laugh because that didn’t surprise me.
My mother had found Hurley when he was an orphan on the streets of Sahlmsara; he’d gotten himself wrapped up in a plot to assassinate her.Wrong place, wrong time.She’d realized his Water Source magic was the one thing that could make the Sahlms inhabitable long-term. The desert region had fallen into a drought, but with Hurley’s wielding, more rain reached the region each year.
“How are things in the Sahlms?” I asked.
My father had long been preparing him to take the Sahlmsaran crown—I wondered if my cousin knew his fate. To bear the weight ofonekingdom’s needs would keep me busy, never mind two. It brought me some relief to know he would long be my ally.
“It’s hot,” he scoffed. “But quiet—which is a welcome thing. Sahlmkar’s textile trades are booming again. Now that the area gets more rain, the city isn’t as dreary. Krait won’t let me add agrand theater outside of Umber House—says it’s excessive and unnecessary.”
I chuckled. “He’s never had the patience to watch performances.”
Hurley smirked and shrugged. “It was worth a try.” The band switched their tune as we looked out over the ballroom.
Uncle Fen swung Aunt Asterie around the dance floor. Aunt Wyeth was tending to a young woman who had twisted her ankle during the last song, and Aunt Cassidee made small talk with a few lords.
Aunt Amara stood at the large metal punch bowl with the young King Sheffield—he was a kindhearted man in his late twenties who took after his uncle who had preceded him. We’d become fast friends as he had the realms’ oldest collection of maps and often helped me and Aunt El identify searchable regions. Next time, I’d get to travel with her.
“Do you think if I pretend to faint, I could get out of the rest of this?” I asked. Hurley snorted into his punch.
“Doubtful.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Are the rulers from the West Corridor in attendance?”
