Rise of Fire, Page 8

  I chewed fiercely, trying to swallow the last bit of biscuit. Holding fingers to my lips, I attempted an apology.

  “Oh, I’m just teasing. Keep eating. You look as though you need it.”

  I gulped down the last of my mouthful. “It’s very good,” I said as an attempt at an excuse.

  “Cook is a wonder. He could make a stick of wood the most scrumptious thing to cross your lips. Not that I’ve ever eaten wood.”

  I smiled at her exuberance and shook my head. “Who are you?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m prattling on.” She cleared her throat. “I’m Maris, princess of Lagonia.”

  King Tebald’s daughter? How many children did he have? Would another one appear?

  At the awkward stretch of silence, I realized she was waiting for my introduction. “Oh. Hello. I’m Luna.”

  “I know. I’ve heard all about you. You were traveling with Prince Fowler. How exciting! Tell me of your travels together.”

  I blinked at the strangeness of that. Only someone who had little to no exposure to the Outside would say such a thing.

  “You’ve heard all about me?” I echoed.

  “Yes.”

  I nodded, wondering what all she could have heard about me since there was essentially nothing any of them knew about me. Who had she been talking to? Chasan? What had he told her?

  “You must tell me everything.” She plopped down on the bench next to me, crushing my skirts beneath her.

  I tugged them out from under her. “About what?”

  “Fowler, of course.”

  “Fowler?” I repeated dumbly as one of the women behind me began snipping at my hair, evening out the ragged and jagged ends.

  “Yes, silly. Is he as handsome as rumored?” She giggled as though we were lifelong friends. An unusual sensation. I’d never had a friend—especially of the female variety. “Father won’t permit me to visit him yet, but I will, never fear. Later this evening I intend to see him, in fact.”

  “I-I’m sure,” I answered, still feeling slightly bewildered by her interest in Fowler. I didn’t feel sure of anything about this girl . . . except that she reminded me a great deal of her arrogant brother.

  She leaned forward, bringing her voice closer and crushing my skirts again. “I need to know something, anything about him. I’ve waited all my life to meet him.”

  “Fowler?”

  “Yes,” she retorted, and this time she sounded exasperated. “We’ve only been betrothed since my birth.”

  My stomach bottomed out at her words. It was a casual utterance for her, but it cut me like a blade. I pressed a hand against my diving stomach.

  She must have read some of my reaction. “Are you . . . what’s wrong? Did I say something? You look pale.”

  I shook my head and ducked, averting my face as a lump rose up in my throat. “No. I’m fine.”

  The surge of emotion I felt wasn’t right. Even if I hadn’t been running from Fowler and racing headlong into a fate that did not include him, he had turned his back on this shining world—on this girl. He had turned his back on his father and whatever betrothal had been arranged for him. Except he was here now. Because of me. I squashed the niggle of guilt. I might be the reason he was here, but he could have died out there.

  “Well, come now, then. Don’t be so reticent. Tell me about Fowler.”

  I cleared my throat. She pressed closer on the bench, the soft linen of her gown brushing my arm.

  I shouldn’t feel this awful swell of heat in my face. It shouldn’t hurt to realize this girl sitting beside me was his fate—even if he had walked away from it. She was the fate he was running from . . . and I was beginning to realize that it was impossible to run from your fate.

  My whole life I had been hiding from Cullan, avoiding the death intended for me. I should have died that day alongside my parents. Sivo and Perla had stolen me from that fate, but now I would embrace it for the survival of others, for the good of the kingdom that I had been born to rule.

  The princess sitting next to me was still talking, but I didn’t hear her—not the actual words coming out of her. I understood her perfectly. She wanted Fowler. Without even knowing him, without even meeting him or seeing him, she wanted him. And she would have him.

  She was still talking beside me, her words falling into place. “How did you come to be together? Was he journeying here to finally meet me?” As if a journey across two countries in this day and age was a simple matter? As if the eclipse had never happened and the world wasn’t doused in dark brutality. “Has he spoken of me at all?”

  I snorted. No. He had conveniently left out any mention of a betrothed.

  “I only recently learned that he was a prince.” That much was the truth at least. “I don’t believe he wanted it common knowledge that he was the prince of Relhok.”

  “Why ever not?” She tsked. “It’s his right. His due.”

  The girl was naïve. Did she think a royal prince should announce his identity? Especially on the Outside, where enemies could hunt him for ransom? I was still not convinced that these Lagonians knowing the truth of his identity was a good thing.

  The woman working on my hair began pinning and twisting the mass atop my head. The bottom strands were too short to be pinned, so they fell loose to curl against the nape of my neck.

  “You’ll have to ask him.” I shrugged as if what he was to me was of little consequence. “When he wakes, I’m sure you will have much to discuss.”

  Princess Maris sighed happily. “Indeed. I cannot wait for that moment.” She leaned forward and began rifling through one of the serving women’s baskets. “Here, put the pearl drops in her hair.”

  “Yes, princess.” The woman began stabbing the little pearls randomly throughout my hair, sometimes poking my scalp.

  “Ah, I knew it. Lovely against your dark hair,” Maris murmured. “Don’t you think?”

  I nodded.

  “Come, Luna. You did not even look at the mirror.”

  Discomfort at being put on the spot made my skin itch. I deflected the question with one of my own, airily waving my hand. “Why are we going to such trouble with my appearance?”

  “We dress for dinner.”

  “I’m to dine with you?”

  “Yes, Papa insists. Er, or maybe it was Chasan.” She shrugged beside me, the motion sending a waft of floral scent circling the air. I knew about fragrances. Perla had told me she used to be a skilled perfumer. She’d made signature scents for my mother and every lady at court. No use for such extravagances these days. The last thing we want is some sweet fragrance leading dwellers to our door.

  Sound logic, but nothing that seemed to affect them locked away safely inside this mountain castle. It was as though they lived here untouched by the eclipse.

  Maris stood. “You look ready. Come along. We can go in together. I hope you did not ruin your appetite with all those iced biscuits. Although Cook will be glad to hear that you approve of them.”

  “I can still eat,” I assured her, rising to my feet, smoothing sweating palms over my skirts. I’d worn dresses plenty of times in the tower, but it felt odd to be in skirts again—as though years had passed since the last time and not a mere month.

  Princess Maris looped her arm through mine. “You look lovely. You shall have to beat the swains off with a stick.”

  I smiled, but it felt more like a grimace as I marveled at what a strange world I had entered. I didn’t want the attention of a bevy of swains, but maybe it would offer some distraction during my brief time here—because I wouldn’t be staying.

  Dinner was no small affair. I heard the din long before we entered the cavernous hall. My steps slowed. “How many people are eating with us?”

  “It’s full court this evening,” Maris replied, urging me to resume walking. “Papa is in a celebratory mood.” I could only infer that this was because of Fowler. “Several nobles and their families reside here in the palace. They’ve been here as long as I can rem
ember, keeping safe in the city rather than venturing out to whatever is left of their estates. When Papa feels like it, he invites them all to sup with us in the great hall. The company provides a diversion.”

  Ainswind was an alien world buried within the darkness I knew. As we strolled down the wide corridor, my slippers whispering over a lush runner, the warmth from lit sconces bathed my face, drenching me in light. This place hummed and glowed with no fear of monsters.

  None of this is real. None of this is real.

  The words rushed through me, a reminder that I should not be lulled into safety. No place was wholly safe. Even this fortified castle.

  I couldn’t stay. I had my mission. I wouldn’t forget it. I couldn’t. Every day I remained here, every moment that passed, more girls died. Cullan needed to be stopped. The first chance I got, I would put this place far behind me. Once I assured myself that all was being done for Fowler that could be, I would leave this bewildering place. If they tried to stop me, then I would find a way out on my own. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d executed an escape.

  The voices grew louder as we approached, and I had to fight every instinct to not turn and flee. I felt more vulnerable than usual in this strange new place. Sounds, smells, people . . . it was long ingrained in me to avoid those things that attracted dwellers.

  The Outside, for as much as it carried death in its fold, felt more like home to me. Here I was exposed, no weakness concealed. I flattened a hand over my racing heart, where so much skin lay bared. After pretending to be a boy, the exposed skin felt odd, too.

  “Now, I can’t sit with you . . . as much as I would like to.” She patted my hand as we entered the bustling hall. The space was large, the air churning around me and lifting high into vaulted ceilings. “There is a seating protocol, but I shall place you beside someone charming. Trust me.”

  “Thank you. That’s very kind.”

  “That’s me,” she trilled. “Oh la! Look at all the eyes on you. I told you that you looked fetching. We don’t get too many new faces. I can count on both hands the number of guests we’ve had over the years. You shall be all the rage.”

  “I’m sure I won’t,” I murmured—or rather, I hoped.

  I doubted King Tebald permitted anyone inside the palace who wasn’t perceived as important, and that most certainly wasn’t me. I was only here because of my association with Fowler. My newness aside, I was sure little care would be given me. Everyone would be in a dither over Fowler’s arrival—even if he wasn’t present for the meal. He was the prince of Relhok, after all, and betrothed to Princess Maris.

  Elegant slippers and fine boots shuffled over the hard stone surface of the floor. There were too many bodies to count and that made me jumpy, as though my skin were stretched too tight over my bones. I inhaled the delicious aroma of food I couldn’t even begin to identify. My stomach rumbled. At the far end of the great hall, an enormous fire burned and crackled. Several hounds lounged in front of it, their panting breaths and pungent, baking fur eddying around me, flaring my nostrils.

  I pushed a hand against my bodice self-consciously and stuck close to Princess Maris, unwilling to be left alone in this room full of strangers. They already saw too much of me in all this glaring light, in this dress with its low-cut bodice. I would not have them see anything more about me.

  Following close behind Maris, I sucked in a breath, trying to pick out all the sounds over the band of musicians playing in the corner. No easy task.

  A bell pealed loudly over the jumble of noise.

  “That’s the signal. It’s time to take our seats. You’re over here.”

  I cleared my throat. “Which seat?”

  I was grateful to feel her hand close around mine. She had the softest hands, like a child’s. “You can sit next to Gandal. He’s the royal physician’s son. He has very fine eyes.” Her tone lowered suggestively.

  I perked up a little at this. Not because of his fine eyes—the part about him being the physician’s son. Perhaps he would have news of Fowler? It wouldn’t hurt to inquire. The sooner Fowler’s well-being was established, the sooner I could abandon this place that made me feel dizzy and so out of sorts. “Thank you.”

  I was ushered onto a bench. Princess Maris made the introductions and then slipped away, moving to the head table that was elevated upon a dais—where the important people dined. The distance between that table and me told me how low I ranked on the social hierarchy.

  I tracked Maris’s progress, marking the soft tread of her footsteps ringing hollowly up the wood steps and across the raised platform. Once she settled into a chair, I turned my attention to those around me, listening carefully over the music to all the voices, marking each individual and trying to follow the anecdotes swirling on the air like a tangle of threads in the cavernous echoing space.

  One woman complained because she hadn’t been able to find her hand mirror and suspected her maid, that “lazy, shiftless girl,” had taken it. The gentleman across from her assured her that a mirror wasn’t necessary, as she looked ravishing. The lady laughed coyly and I knotted my hands in my lap, wondering at this place and these shallow people who acted as if there were no hungry monsters at the gates.

  It was a large table, seating at least fifty, maybe more. I wasn’t certain of the exact number, and that was something that troubled me. I was blind but had never felt impaired, never lost or floundering. Until now. Multiple conversations rolled on all around me. I focused on keeping track of them, even when it made my head hurt.

  Outside there was a rhythm, a cadence in the soft chirps of insects, the yips of giant bats, the ebb and flow of wind through dying trees. And Them, the dwellers, sending out their eerie calls. They could be relied upon, too. In here there was only the unknown, the machinations of people my gut told me not to trust.

  After the initial introduction with Gandal, we exchanged a few pleasantries before he ignored me in favor of the lady to his right. The princess was wrong. I wasn’t nearly as appealing as she proclaimed. My conversational skills were perhaps even worse than I’d thought. Or it was simply that I was unimportant—a nobody even for the son of a physician.

  I folded my clammy hands together in my lap. The aroma of well-seasoned meat was more pronounced than ever, and my mouth watered. I had never smelled so much food. Surely we would eat soon.

  “I almost did not recognize you.”

  I started at the warm voice sliding near my ear. A voice that I instantly recognized. I should have heard him coming. My pulse sputtered in alarm at my throat. This place was ruining me, eliminating my edge. Before I knew it, if I wasn’t careful, I would be as weak as all of them.

  “It’s astounding what a little soap can do, Prince Chasan,” I rejoined, rubbing at the goose bumps that puckered the skin of my arm.

  He chuckled. “Indeed. Do I not smell better, too?”

  I opened my mouth and shut it, stopping myself from pointing out that he had not smelled foul to begin with. “I can’t claim to have a strong sense of smell, Your Highness,” I lied.

  “No?” His body sank down on the bench to my left and I started a little, concerned that he meant to stay beside me. I didn’t want his attention. I wanted him gone.

  I wanted to be gone.

  I felt Gandal at my right lean forward, his clothes rustling on his seat as he anxiously peered around me at the prince. “Greetings, Your Highness; good evening to you,” Gandal said.

  The prince ignored him and continued assessing me. I didn’t have to see to know. I felt his stare like a breathing, living thing working its way over my face and down my body. I resisted the urge to lift a hand to shield my face.

  “You have the most extraordinary eyes, Luna.” I tensed at the compliment.

  “Th-Thank you,” I stammered, motioning toward the dais. “Are you not expected to sit there?” Perla and Sivo had regaled me with enough of my parents’ life before the eclipse for me to know rudimentary household protocol.

  “I am qui
te content here.” The prince leaned back, his weight creaking the wooden bench as he settled his palms along the edge.

  Heat burned my cheeks. I could feel the unsubtle glances from others.

  I let his words sink in, turning them over, wondering if there was a double meaning there. I couldn’t decide. My anxiety only grew as he continued to stare at me. I lowered my head, hoping that he would take the action as shyness. I didn’t want to face him. Not this close. Not in this brightly lit room. I might give myself away.

  “Can you not look me in the face?” he queried. “Have I said something to offend you?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “This place is . . . different. I can’t relax. Any moment I feel as though dwellers will storm the hall. I know your defenses are impregnable—”

  “Nothing is impregnable.”

  “Not very comforting as I sit here without a weapon and wearing a dress that would hamper my movements should I need to run.”

  “You can always use your cutlery.”

  The idea of defending myself with spoon and fork almost made me smile.

  “Ah, I see I’ve amused you,” he added.

  His words killed my almost smile. “Not at all.”

  A deep thumping struck the floor several times, a signal that reverberated through the room. The musicians ceased to play. A hush fell over the crowd. No one stirred. Even the smelly hounds near the great hearth stopped swishing their tails.

  Looking up, I leaned slightly to the left, asking the prince, “What is that?”

  “They’re heralding my father’s arrival.”

  King Tebald entered the room. I heard the whisper of robes over the floor as he cut a path toward the dais, a small retinue following him.

  Suddenly he stopped before us. “Chasan, what are you doing sitting here?”

  The prince rose to his feet. “I thought I would sit here tonight, Father, and visit with our new guest.”

  At this, low murmurs broke out through the room. My cheeks heated; I knew this was a breach in etiquette.

  “Guest?” Tebald said blankly, as though he had no memory of visitors, much less me.