“Wait a moment,” Lucien murmurs. “Make sure she’s gone.”
“Let me out of this fucking closet,” Kazia hisses instead.
With one last awful, abrasive squirm, Lucien fumbles the door open. They spill out together, then stagger apart. Cold seizes Kazia in the absence of Lucien’s touch.
Kazia’s unused to this disorientation. He can’t meet Lucien’s eyes. All the sensible orders die on Kazia’s lips. He doesn’t need them; he’s certain Lucien will never speak of this incident.
Lucien won’t look at him either, and red crests beneath his freckles. He still recovers faster than Kazia. “Let’s check behind the tapestry.”
Kazia snaps to attention, grateful for the reminder. But as much as he yearns to continue the search— “We don’t have time. I’ll come back another day.”
“Wait,” Lucien says, drawing Kazia to a halt yet again.
Kazia whirls. “What now?”
Lucien’s finally looking him in the eyes, with a wary restraint. He gestures at a nearby bronze-framed mirror. “You should fix your hair, Your Highness.”
The implication is so appalling, Kazia can’t even speak. Worse, Lucien is right—when Kazia approaches the mirror, his reflection is even more appalling. His hair has fallen half out of its tail. Loose strands soften his face.
He looksdebauched.
Pink-faced, Kazia angrily re-ties his hair into a new tail.
?
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lucien
Lucien would never guess there was an ongoing war, judging by tonight’s gathering. Gold and blue lights dance through the metallic trees, as tiny as fireflies but numerous enough to illuminate the entire enclave. Reflections glitter from the crystal creek bed and the jewel-encrusted celebrants of Queen Aliza’s whims.
A translucent glass roof covers the garden, black-framed panes revealing glimpses of stars. On the silvery bridge, a pair of half-dressed musicians play instruments Lucien’s never seen before. A set of bells on stacked frames, struck and stopped with drumsticks. Across the glittering creek, past the trees and courtiers, a light mage and her grail sit on a pavilion. Their power fuels the dancing motes.
Lucien can’t help his instinctive discomfort. The last grail he met was Sei Dire, who seemed thrilled with his lot. Enthusiastically, publicly thrilled. But Lucien is from Silaise, where the law forbids using grails—for good fucking reason.
Maybe there’s a balance between the potential usefulness and the risk of abuse. Just like blood magic, which can heal as well as harm. But that’s something for people like Audric to figure out.
Lucien doesn’t get a good look at the grail, because a chain of orders binds him at Kazia’s heel. Courtiers clear Kazia’s route to the queen, and Lucien braces himself for a new humiliating performance.
Scalestone shimmers on Aliza’s wrists. She appears enraptured by the bell players, barely glancing at her son. “There you are, darling. I’ve missed you this week.”
“You should take me to the lodge next time, Mother,” Kazia says, with a honeyed tone Lucien hasn’t heard before.
“When it’s convenient, yes, we should all go.” Aliza pats Kazia’s cheek. “Have fun tonight, dear. Your father says we don’t have plans tomorrow.”
“Lovely,” Kazia replies.
Aliza returns her attention to the musicians, a clear dismissal. The entire conversation, she never once looked at Lucien. Somehow, the disregard rankles more than overt humiliation. Like Lucien isn’t even worth taunting.
At least Aliza appears to be in a good mood. She must not have noticed any sign of Lucien and Kazia’s incursion in her chambers. No tapestry or linens askew.
“Come along, Commander,” Kazia says airily. “You heard Mother—I get to sleep in tomorrow, which means I’m due a glass of wine tonight.”
Lucien doesn’t reply, and Kazia doesn’t expect him to. Because Kazia may order Lucien around, but he’s not actually talking to Lucien. His dismissiveness feels different than Aliza’s, though. Different even from Kazia’s own usual brand of taunting.
Kazia doesn’t want to be at this party any more than Lucien does. Whatever he’s distracted by, it isn’t the wonders of music.
Lucien follows from a wine table to a stone bench. Two women sit on the bench already, but they rise and curtsy greetings before dispersing. Kazia props a foot up and sips his wine.
