“Civil war? You’re going to burn all of Etania for one woman?”
Arrin holds out a hand. “Yes, but for once I won’t take credit. I’d like to, but really, this is your moment. Because let me tell you—the protesters weren’t very happy when they learned a Resyan woman murdered their beloved king. That was the moment they truly wanted her head. They’ll help us get her under house arrest, and after that we’ll do some investigating. I bet if we looked hard enough we’d find proof she personally helped her homeland arm the Nahir. Can you imagine where that would lead, Athan? To a noose, I’d imagine. Sinora Lehzar and her Southern sympathies. The woman who murdered her husband in a spectacular plot for a Northern throne.” He pauses. “A murder confessed from the lips of the Etanian princess, in fact.”
Blood disappears from my face, flooding me. Strangling me.
The murder.
The fatal weakness Arrin needed to make this all possible. Now we don’t have to let this build with time, slowly gathering evidence against Sinora. We get to seize everything, right now, because we found a crime that is all hers, the crowning sin of a traitorous woman linked to the kingdom now arming the Nahir.
And it’s because of me.
Me betraying Ali’s trust for a chance to save her.
I pretend I’m not shattered by guilt, struggling to be stronger than the fear in me, because now I have no choice. I have to finish this betrayal and actually save her.
“I’m going to the masquerade,” I say, like I’m giving my own order.
Father downs his brandy, then gestures at me. “You’re certainly not.”
“Why?”
“Don’t you dare question me, boy.” It’s the sharpest command he’s given me in months. I forgot how it takes the heat from my skin. How it takes everything from me, leaving me empty. He’s at me in a stride, gripping my shoulder, hard enough to throb. “I’m taking this palace, Athan, and you stay out of it. I’ve worked too hard to let your weakness get in the way. Don’t be your goddamn mother.”
His words are worse than any fist to my face. They bruise my soul.
Anger suffuses my throat viciously. Anger that he’d take this incredible risk and not think twice. Anger that even though I’m trying my best, even though I don’t want to hurt Ali, there’s no way for this to end without her despising me.
I’ve condemned her entire world.
Father’s still got me by the shoulder. “You need to use your head, Athan. You think only a step ahead when you should be thinking ten. You need to think on the ground the way you do in the air.”
I almost laugh in his face. He doesn’t know a thing about the air. In the air, you react within the space of a second, you make up everything in the breath of a brutal, terrified moment, and if you’re lucky, someone else ends up burning instead of you. There’s no such thing as ten steps ahead.
He holds my gaze, determined, this man who’s my father, gambling with the fate of the entire world in his steady hand.
“I understand, sir,” I say.
“Good.”
I pull from his grip. “And I’m going to the masquerade.”
I’m gone before he can do anything. I bolt across the room, and Arrin tries to stop me on the way.
“Don’t be an idiot,” he says. “Don’t try to—”
I’m out the door.
AURELIA
It’s humid by the time I reach the grand ballroom, the aftereffects of an evening rain. The air feels slightly sticky, my hair curling, my satin gown heavy and clinging—freshwater pearls embroidered into the bodice, fastened with petals of lace, silver skirts twirling round me. With the feathered mask, I’m every bit a magical creature. Elinga of the mountains.
At my throat rests Athan’s necklace, the precious amber stone, and though Heathwyn says it doesn’t match my gown, not even slightly, I don’t care.
There’s a glimmer of certainty building inside.
Being with Athan again has shifted everything right, illuminating the secret things in my heart, chasing the shadows everyone else tries to bring close. I know the words I’ll say to him tonight. I’ll mean them with everything in me.
No one will touch what’s ours.
“Shall we, then, pretty unicorn?”
Reni smiles, offering me his arm at the top of the promenade steps. He’s dressed in a green tunic with gold trim, high leather boots, a sword at his side, and topped with a plain brown mask. He claims to be a pirate, but I think I know which treasure he wants for himself tonight.
Together, we descend the stairs, stepping into a land of fantasy. Flowers gather in archways and windows, colours in roses and peaches, lights like stars across the vaulted ceiling. Green vines wind from chandelier to chandelier, and on each table a burst of flowers and flickering candles. Hundreds of jeweled masks sparkle, courtiers watching me arrive with half-hidden smiles.
Mother waits for us beside Lord Marcin. Her sweeping red gown is vibrant and startling, a bright flower in the soft light. She kisses me on the cheek. “Happy birthday, my heart.” Then she steps back, noticing my necklace. “What is this?”
“A gift from the Lieutenant.”
She tilts her head. “It doesn’t quite match your gown.”
“It’s perfect,” I say, touching it again. “And I’m going to wear it every day.”
“I think it’s hideous,” Reni offers with a smile.
I’m about to protest, but his attention is already ensnared elsewhere. Violet’s wearing a strapless dress, slender shoulders revealed, face obscured by a gold mask of butterfly wings. She looks fragile and miserable and very alone, standing beside a table with fresh-cut freesias. He adjusts his sword and strides in her direction.
I worry for his heart—and hers.
But I do what I must, putting on a polite smile and wading through the large herd of masks, listening to compliments from lords and ladies, from aging counts and countesses, accepting their frivolous praise. It’s fine and well for the first little while, familiar and fluttering voices, but soon an anxious tremor twists my hands together. The minutes escape.
Where is Athan? Why hasn’t he appeared?
I wait in my shimmering gown, alone, the moments ticking, taunting. Maybe I shouldn’t have hoped for anything more. Maybe this was never his to give, not when he wears a uniform and answers to all those brutal men above him.
Maybe I’ve tricked myself yet again.
“Is Elinga missing her dragon?”
I spin round.
Athan stands there, cautious, dressed in his uniform and wearing a dark-purple mask with black trim. A stark figure in the midst of the florid ballroom sea.
“You came.” It’s the only thing that finds its way out of my stunned delight.
“I said I would.”
“Your mask is perfect!” And it is. Slightly angular at the sides, so very dragon-like.
He glances round the room, nervous, and I don’t blame him for feeling out of place. His plain uniform stands out in a tapestry of rich fabrics. The courtly faces watch us, curious, but I take his arm slyly and lead him for the marble floor gleaming in chandelier light. “Dance with me, Lieutenant.”
“I was hoping you’d forget to ask.”
“Certainly not, and it’s my birthday.”
He smiles hesitantly. “I suppose I can’t say no to a unicorn. But, please, let’s be terrible in a corner where we won’t hurt anyone else.” He’s leading me now, by the arm.
“Say unicorn.”
He looks over his shoulder. “Unicorn?”
“It sounds lovely with your accent.”
“Unicorn.”
“Again.”
He turns and brings me closer, stopping us in a lonely corner. “Unicorn, unicorn, unicorn,” he whispers softly, turning the silly request into something that trips up my breath.