Others at the table nod.
“And if it doesn’t?” Uncle asks, piqued. “What other land now has such resources as Savient? Dakar has taken the bounty of the east for himself. And he doesn’t spend it on palaces, my friends. He spends it on steel. When his army began marching for the capital of Karkev two years ago, did anyone think he would be a mere hundred miles from it today? Did anyone think he’d persuade the Royal League to allow his advance? No, we did not, but he did it. He isn’t a man to be underestimated.”
I can see Mother stiffen, feeling the barbed betrayal. Even her own brother persists in stoking uncertainty.
Reni appears ready to agree with Uncle, but catches Mother’s eye and, mercifully, backpedals. “Regardless, I’m confident we’ll gain much from our new friends in Savient … however long they manage to hold together.”
Everyone hides a chuckle, and I feel compelled to raise my glass for good measure. “To our new eastern allies. To a prosperous friendship.”
The table agrees to my toast, and Mother observes with evident approval.
Lyle smiles at my brother, and raises his glass in Reni’s direction. “And to you, Your Highness. The 3rd Squadron serves you as loyally as we did your father. You will always have the sky.”
Havis rolls his eyes slightly at the flowery compliment, an Etanian tradition of poetic affection among the two forces—army and air, the earth and the sky—but Reni accepts it graciously.
The musicians strike a different tune then, and couples stand to waltz on the dance floor while they wait for desserts to be served. A grinning illusionist turns a little magic show, moving from guest to guest, while Slick continues to eye Violet discreetly. I reach for my wine, pretending my hand is a plane bobbing about and nearly take out a servant’s arm as he tries to refill Reni’s glass.
Violet tugs me up and we hurry a safe distance away before bursting into laughter.
“I think he was about ready to propose marriage,” I say between breaths.
“Then let me go back,” Violet replies, a girlish glimmer to her voice. “I’d like to see what your brother does then.”
“Violet! That’s rotten of you.”
“Yes, but he does the same,” she insists. “Always smiling at other girls, and always when I can see. He’s the rotten one.” She’s still sparkling, though. “As for Ambassador Havis…”
I moan. “Please, don’t mention that old rat to me.”
“He isn’t old, Ali. A man of thirty is at his best!”
“You’re mad in the head,” I say, stroking her hair like she’s a kitten. “And so terrible at art.”
Violet puts a hand over her heart. “I spent three hours on that wolf creature, darling. It’s not my fault it looks more like a bear.”
The illusionist twirls between us without warning, dressed all in silver, like a fish. We awkwardly make way while he says nothing, pretending to pull a rose from behind Violet’s ear with a toothy, silent smile. I find I don’t like the slipperiness of him. He turns to me, hesitating, and I wonder if he’ll try one of his tricks or if he’s been instructed not to pester the royal family.
His hand snaps before my eyes, quick, and he opens it to reveal a tiny ceramic fox.
A Safire fox—with a bloody rabbit between its teeth.
Violet slaps him on the shoulder. “That’s quite uncalled for,” she says sharply, the sort of tone one wouldn’t expect from her. “Leave us alone.”
The man shrugs, the fox disappearing in his hand again, and he moves on to his next audience.
“Must everyone bring their heated opinions even to dinner?” Violet laments, gripping my arm in annoyance.
“It’s fine,” I say, staring at the back of the silver man. “How far can it truly go?”
“As far as ridiculous tricks, apparently.” Her smile warms again. “Can I please give this court a proper show? They deserve to be entertained with—” She stops, her smile broadening further.
“Care for dessert, Princess?”
Havis’s sudden presence behind me is like heat on my skin. Spicy cologne and tempered irritation, looming at my neck. “Dessert?” I ask, turning.
He has another full wine glass in his right hand. “I want to finish our earlier conversation.”
Violet nudges my arm.
“I thought it was finished, Ambassador.”
“No, I’ve waited all day to hear the end of the story. About the letter?” His dark eyes bore into mine, forbidding me to lie.
Trapped, I try to concoct some excuse, but Violet ruins that by saying, “I’ll leave the two of you together. A pleasant evening, Ambassador.” The words purr off her tongue, but Havis gives her only the briefest nod.
Alone now, I see Havis has something in his left hand as well. A plate of marzipan sweets. He offers it towards me and I take one, since at least those look inviting.
“Your birthday’s at the end of this summer,” he says. “Have you planned any celebration?”
The polite angle throws me, and I pause. “A masquerade.” I half expect him to seize onto that and say, “Are you going to be sending invitations? Letters? Like the one I gave you this afternoon, which you gave to your mother, didn’t you?” But he doesn’t. He just waits. “It’s a party where everyone wears masks,” I add.
“I’m aware,” he says with a frown. “But I do find parties a waste of money.”
“Well, that’s fine.” I muster a radiant smile, one Heathwyn couldn’t find fault with. “You don’t have to come.”
Havis drops the dessert plate onto the nearest table with a rude thump. It makes a nearby footman jump in surprise. “And what of the end of the story, Princess? Did your letter reach its destination?”
“Perhaps.”
I catch Reni out of the corner of my eye. Surely he’ll come rescue me. Surely he’ll … No, he surely won’t. Violet’s slender body tilts forward, showing off her necklace and an eyeful of something else, the jeweled end dangling far below her neck, and Reni stares as if all of the world’s problems are suddenly there for him to solve on the swell of her chest.
Stars!
A shade of impatience worms into Havis’s gaze. “You’re a pleasant girl, Princess, but still a child. You can smile pretty and delight these gentlemen, but what do you know of the Safire? The General?” He drains his red wine. “Having him here will be a good lesson for you. You’ll find there’s little to admire about a man in uniform.”
“You know nothing about what I admire,” I retort coldly.
“I know there’s more at stake here than you can imagine. Which is why that letter had better have reached its intended audience.”
“What are you saying?” His words have an unwelcome edge.
“I’m saying,” he leans near, voice low, “you have an entire court divided and how long until that spreads to an entire kingdom?”
I try not to show fear at those words. Most days, it’s easy to overlook the division between my mother and brother, the rising boldness in Reni. But the General’s invitation has dissolved their mirage of unity, and with everything I heard between them earlier today …
“My brother will be king in a year,” I inform Havis, more confident than I feel. “That’s a fact, and nothing to be divided over.”
“The sun rises and falls,” Havis replies, “a hundred times before spring.”
It’s a Resyan proverb about fortune, one that’s always felt rather pithy until this moment. Now it feels like something dark.
Uncle Tanek materializes at Havis’s shoulder, a shadow of an ger on his brow, glancing between us. “Gref, that’s enough. Let’s retire to my study.”
Havis frowns, irritated to have been caught by Uncle yet again, and he looks at me like I’ll intervene. But there’s a sudden shriek.
A feral, high-pitched sound that rises above the violins and voices. Panicked.
Mother!