Page 90 of Hunger & Harmony

BASTARD

Maybe the most important act of resistance isn’t loud. Maybe it’s wearing a tie-dye shirt that a good friend made me. Maybe it’s reminding myself of the blessings and clutching every fiber of them.

The Midnight Court deserves no reverence, and my shoulder still throbs where the Archduchess broke skin. So, it’s not entirely impractical to turn up in casual clothes, right?

At least it brings me comfort as I pick up the pieces of my shattered heart.

Lorelei hasn’t checked in since yesterday, though I’m sure she’s still working on our PR nightmare. I’m not exactly at ease around these cloaked underlings, but Ezren’s gift boosts my confidence as they lead me to my fate.

“Cadence.”

I stop short. Beyond the guard to my right, Niko stands in an alcove, like he’s been waiting. The sharp pressure behind my eyes gives way, but my confidence wavers as he glances me over, lingering on the unofficial Arteria merch.

The contrast between us is comical. Regal, with black embossed on black, he’s fitted in a staunch suit with only the flow of a midnight cape creating movement. His crown sits in its rightful place, ivory against brunette.

Then there's me. Faded jeans, red sneakers, and a sky-blue sweatshirt. There’s no crown for me, only a loose tie in my hair. I fidget with my sleeve, unable to meet his eyes. Is he angry?

A smile ghosts over his lips, gone before I can acknowledge it.

“Your Majesty,” I say, unsure if I should bow my head or not.

After all, he doesn’t want a queen.

He doesn’t want me.

“At ease,” he says to the guides.

They fade back down the hall without a word, leaving me alone with the ominous doors to the throne room and the king who commands it.

“How—”

“Should we go in?” I ask, cutting him off.

I’m not adding insult to my injury. He should stop playing nice already and let my wounds breathe.

It hardly shadows his face, but he’s silent for a few moments, like he didn’t expect that.

“Of course.”

He straightens his shoulders. I hold my breath as the doors promptly open for us with a heavy groan.

“His Majesty, Reigning Supreme of the Western Courts, King Alaric Soren!”

My brows knit together, though I quickly relax my face. I heard it this time. That name was in the dream, too. Niko’s memory . . .Is it his true name? Niklaus Vane is his persona, but it settles against my ribcage easier than his royal titles.

“And his esteemed guest, future Queen Consort of the Western Courts, Lady Cadence Monroe.”

Keeping my posture neutral, I follow him through the parted sea of nobles and courtiers. Their masked gazes weigh harder this time, but my chin remains up. When I spot Archduchess Imara’s painted visage, those red eyes pin me like her claws.

I won’t back down. I’ve lost too much to care.

Does beauty still count when it’s gutted and painted over? As my eyes sweep over the opulent courtroom, I know in my heart that it doesn’t.

The heavy scent of blood and snapdragons sour my stomach as I take my seat next to Niko. I perch like the brushed marble is fire.

Archduchess Imara steps forward.

“Let us not waste time. We all know why this assembly is necessary,” she starts, her voice as cold and precise as an executioner’s axe. “Instability has shaken our dominion. Prophecy foretold Dissonant blood, but we need not remain idle.”