I’m painfully aware of Cress just a few feet away. Though she’s out of earshot and politely listening to Erik’s story about his first battle under the Theyn’s command, her eyes dart to me every few seconds, wary and suspicious.
The whole court wants to see S?ren and Cress married, it seems. Cress and her father certainly want it, and Erik said the Kaiser was pushing for it as well. The only one dragging his feet about it is S?ren, and I don’t understand why. Kalovaxian marriages are never about love—that’s what affairs are for. Marriages are about power, and as such, marrying Cress should suit S?ren just fine.
“Thank you,” I say to him when my glass is full.
His bright blue eyes snap to mine and linger for a moment before he shakes his head and drops his gaze. He knows I’m not thanking him for the wine, but for talking to his mother for me, for saving me from becoming Lord Dalgaard’s latest victim.
“Don’t mention it,” he says. I can’t tell if it’s modesty or a command.
We lapse into a tense silence again, full of things that can’t be said, lies that I’m worried he’ll see through. Just over an hour ago, I was casually planning to murder him, but sitting across from him now—a living, breathing person—it seems impossible. I fear my plots are written across my face. Finally the silence becomes unbearable and I settle instead for almost-truths.
“I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to your mother privately before. It was…enlightening. I like her.”
“She likes you, too,” he says.
Across the pavilion, Cress’s looks are getting more pointed, her eyes boring into me no matter how many reassuring smiles I give her. I angle away from S?ren, deciding to stop looking at him as well. Which makes my job even more difficult; S?ren will be leaving again soon, so my time is limited.
I can make it up to Cress later, ply her with excuses and flattery and delusions about S?ren really being interested in her. For the first time in ten years, I let my own needs take precedence over Cress’s.
Playing the damsel in distress always leaves me with a sour taste in my mouth, but I can’t deny its effectiveness.
“I asked a lot of you when I asked you to stop my engagement,” I whisper, making my voice small and fractured, like a dam about to break. “I’m so grateful that you did, truly, but I would hate to think doing so caused trouble for you. I just want to apologize—”
“You never have to apologize to me,” he interrupts, startled. He lowers his voice. “After everything that’s been done to you, the scars on your back, the things he’s made you do. You should hate him. You should hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” I tell him, and I’m surprised to realize it’s the truth. Whatever I feel for S?ren, it isn’t hate.
Pity, maybe.
Heron’s voice echoes in my mind, asking me if I was capable of killing S?ren. Yes, I’d told him then, and that’s what the answer still has to be. Pity or no pity.
S?ren’s eyes search my face, but now I can’t look at him. I keep my gaze trained on the gold silk tablecloth, remembering my mother’s dark, freckled hands smoothing it down, tugging at its corners so that it lay flat. She always fidgeted when she was nervous, and I’ve inherited that habit. It takes all my self-control to keep my hands motionless in my lap, not to twist my napkin or twirl the stem of my wineglass. The Spiritgems are still caught firmly between the sleeve of my dress and my skin, but I’m worried that any movement will set them loose and I’ll have no way to explain that.
Crescentia has stopped even pretending to pay attention to Erik, though he’s gesturing wildly as he tells some exaggerated story. Her eyes are locked on mine, sharp, suspicious, and a touch resentful.
I sit up a little straighter and turn away from S?ren’s surprised face. “Cress,” I say, infusing my voice with warmth and camaraderie, hoping it’s enough to make her forgive me for monopolizing S?ren’s attention. “Come tell the Prinz about the book your father brought you from his voyage to Elcourt. The one about the one-handed knight?”
Crescentia leaves Erik behind without hesitation, hurrying back to the table and retaking her seat on S?ren’s other side, Erik retaking his own seat a moment later. Her face flushes with delight and she launches into a description of the folktale and the illustrations that accompanied it. S?ren, for his part, listens raptly but I can barely pay attention to a word she’s saying. The small distance between S?ren and me no longer feels cramped with things unsaid. Now, it’s full of unspoken promises.
I try not to look at him, not wanting to cause any more tension between Cress and me, but it’s impossible not to. When our eyes catch halfway through lunch, it sends my heart racing.
Because I’m succeeding, I tell myself. I have him where I want him and soon—so soon—I’ll be free. But that’s not it, not entirely. There’s more to S?ren than I like to let myself think, and as much of a traitor as it makes me, I like him.
When the time comes, I’ll still kill him. I just might feel a little bit guiltier about it than I thought I would.
BACK IN MY ROOM, I slip the pin from my hair and examine it. The Water Gems glint in the dim candlelight, a dark, inky blue like the deepest part of the ocean. It’s riskier to hold on to it than the other jewelry I took, since Cress knows I have it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if that detail slipped through the fairly spacious grates of Crescentia’s mind.
As soon as I think it, guilt pools in my gut. Kalovaxian as she might be, Cress is my only real friend among them. Her behavior today might not have been gracious, but if our friendship were a set of scales, today would be a raindrop against an ocean, and I can’t even blame her for it.
All Cress’s life, her father has pushed her toward the Prinz, filling her head with ideas of herself as a prinzessin and eventually a kaiserin. It’s been a path carved for her since she was still in the cradle, so of course she’s going to fight for it. In a strange way, I respect her for it. The Crescentia I thought I knew wasn’t much of a fighter at all.
I sit down on the edge of my bed and slip the other pieces of jewelry I took from Cress’s box from the sleeve of my dress. Twenty Air Gems make up the chandelier earring, each the size of a freckle, and the Earth Gems in the bracelet are even smaller, flecks of dust, practically, that blend into the gold chain of the bracelet almost seamlessly. Along with the pin, they’re small enough to fit in one hand, but I can feel the slight buzz of power licking at the skin of my palm. For someone who’s been gifted by the gods, they’ll be much more powerful.
“I didn’t realize you were such a fan of jewelry, Theo,” Blaise’s voice comes from the wall.
I look to the small hole and grin. “Actually, they’re presents for you,” I tell him, standing back up and walking toward his wall. I thread the bracelet through the hole.
“Not really my style,” he says before giving a sharp inhale when the power hits him.
“Look closer.”
“How did you…” He trails off.
“Crescentia has quite a collection. I’m hoping she won’t notice a few things missing. Can you use it?” I ask.
He hesitates for a few heartbeats. “I think so,” he says.
“What’s going on?” Artemisia asks.
I cross to her wall. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you two,” I say, slipping the hairpin through her hole and then the earring through Heron’s.
“A bit small, but it’ll do,” Artemisia says. “Strange setting, though, isn’t it?”
“The Kalovaxian courtiers like to wear them as jewelry,” I explain. “Water Gems for beauty, Air Gems for grace, Fire Gems for warmth, Earth Gems for strength.”
“You’re joking,” Heron says, spitting the words out like they’re poisonous. “They use them as jewelry?”
“Very expensive jewelry, as I understand it,” I add. “They sell them for a fortune to countries in the North.”
“Believe me, I hate the Kalovaxians as much as anyone, but I’m not sure I understand the difference,” Artemisia says. “Ampelio wore his gem as a necklace, and so did all the other Guardians.”