“I’m very sorry for all the trouble in the mines,” I continue, as if I had anything to do with that. I wish I did. I wish I had been able to accomplish something so large. “I know Crescentia missed you terribly.” I’m not sure that’s true, since Cress never really talks with me about her feelings about her father. Still, it seems like the right thing to say.
“And I missed her,” he replies after a beat.
“She’ll make a wonderful prinzessin, I think.” It’s a struggle to keep my voice light and conversational, to keep my hands from shaking, but I manage. The Theyn thrives on fear; he can smell it like a hunting dog.
For a moment, we both watch Crescentia as she gives the Kaiser a dimpled smile, wrapping him tighter around her finger.
“She was born to be,” the Theyn says finally.
I sneak a glance at him and immediately wish I hadn’t. The way he’s watching Crescentia makes my chest ache, because how dare he? How dare he love his daughter when he took my mother away? Because of him, I will never see my mother look at me like that. He is a stone, incapable of feeling anything, and I don’t like being reminded that he’s also human. I don’t like being reminded that we both love the same person.
Crescentia turns our way and her blinding smile grows wider. She excuses herself from the Kaiser with a softly spoken word and a brief touch of her hand to his arm. The Kaiser follows her gaze and the look in his eyes presses in around my chest until I can scarcely breathe.
“Excuse me, please,” I say to the Theyn, ducking away. Even as I retreat, I feel the Kaiser watching me, always watching me. His gaze spreads decay on my skin and I yearn for a bath to scrub it off.
I am a lamb in the lion’s den. How can I be any kind of queen when I am so easily frightened? Artemisia wouldn’t cower from the Kaiser; she wouldn’t hesitate to plunge the dagger into his chest here and now, no matter what it cost her.
“Thora!” Crescentia calls after me. I slow my steps but I don’t turn back, too frightened of meeting the Kaiser’s gaze again. Too frightened of what I’ll find there.
Cress falls into step next to me and loops her arm through mine. “I’m so glad you came. You look lovely.”
Her quick gray eyes dart up to take in the crumbling crown, the ash I can feel covering my face, neck, and shoulders. It itches terribly, but I don’t dare scratch. Better to pretend it isn’t there at all.
“Thank you,” I tell her with a forced smile I hope seems natural. “It was so kind of you to send the dress. We could be sisters tonight.” I squeeze her arm and try to ignore the guilt seeping into my gut.
“We are,” she replies with a smile that feels like a blow to my heart.
There is nothing to say to that. All I can give her are lies, and I can’t do that tonight, not to her.
All I am is a lie, I remind myself. Thora is a lie. But that isn’t the whole truth.
My mouth opens and I’m not entirely sure what will come out, but before I can say a word, a boy with a golden-horned ram half-mask approaches. Even with his scar gone and his features blurred to give him a more northern look, I’d recognize Blaise anywhere. I glance around the room warily, knowing that Artemisia must be nearby as well, to hold this illusion, but if she is, I can’t see her. There are too many people, too many masks.
“A dance, Lady Thora?” Even beneath the mask, I can see his mouth twist unpleasantly around my false name like it’s a curse. He’s never had to call me that before, and I can tell he hates himself a bit for it, even if it is unavoidable.
Crescentia’s blond eyebrows arch so high they nearly disappear into her hair, but her mouth is smiling as she nudges me toward him. Though he is the last person I want to talk to, I have no choice but to take his hand and let him lead me onto the dance floor.
“Are you insane?” I hiss, sticking to Kalovaxian and moving my lips as little as possible. “If you’re caught—”
“It’s a maskentanz,” he says, overemphasizing the hard edges of the Kalovaxian word so that it sounds more like a hacking cough. “There’s little chance of that.”
“Little, but not none,” I point out, fighting to keep my tone level. “Besides, you don’t even know how to dance.”
“I watched a few of them,” he says with a shrug, resting his hand on the small of my back and taking my free hand in his. It’s the proper placement for the glissadant that the orchestra is playing, but his steps are clumsy. The warmth of his touch seeps through the metal and silk of my dress.
“Not enough,” I say, wincing as his foot comes down hard on mine. “Follow my lead.”
He sighs, but does as I say, letting me guide him into something resembling the complex steps of the dance. We almost blend into the twirl of the other dancers around us, but I’m not foolish enough to believe that people aren’t watching me, wondering who the newcomer is who chose to dance with the Ash Princess, of all people.
I wonder if he’s thinking about how this ballroom felt before the siege, though we were far too young to ever attend balls when they were held here. Our parents must have, though. They would have danced together and laughed in this room, sipping wine from the same gilded goblets the Kalovaxians use now, raising toasts to my mother and the gods and goddesses, to Astrea.
I try to remember that I’m supposed to be angry with him for what Artemisia said, but having him this close is disconcerting. The last time we were this close, he was kissing me. He was holding my wrists tightly in his grasp, refusing to meet my eyes. He won’t look at me now either, but I think that’s less to do with rejection this time and more because he can feel the anger rolling off me.
He doesn’t know what to do with it, and I’m worried that if I open my mouth, I’ll snap at him and everyone will stare, so we fall into an uncomfortable silence that feels like a different version of the pinching game. Which of us will break first?
This time, I win. He starts rambling, eyes darting around the room like he’s afraid to look at me.
“This seemed too good an opportunity to pass up, and we couldn’t hear anything from the Shadow spots. Artemisia conjured the illusions: I’m a visiting duke’s son from Elcourt, Artemisia is a reclusive country lady, and Heron decided it was best for him to stay invisible and mill around the open sun—or rather, moon—pavilions—”
“Do you trust me?” I interrupt, because the more he talks around the argument we’re pointedly not having, the bigger it feels.
His brow furrows and he twirls me under his arm, giving me a chance to survey the room.
I’m relieved to realize that most people aren’t watching us; they’re too busy with their own private dramas to care about mine. But some people still are, including the Kaiser. When my eyes meet his mid-twirl, my stomach turns to lead.
“I…Why would you ask that?” Blaise says when the twirl ends and he steadies me again with his hand on my back.
It’s not an answer, but it might as well be. I lower my voice to a whisper. “I’m not risking everything to play games, Blaise. I’m not a monkey trained to do tricks for your amusement—”
“I never said—” His voice rises before he catches himself, glancing around to see if anyone noticed, but the other dancers all seem engrossed in their own conversations. Still, he lowers his voice. “Where is this coming from?”
“Art said it was your idea to have me poison Crescentia. There’s enough Encatrio for two people and there are plenty of others in this castle who prove much more of a threat than one spoiled girl. So tell me it’s not just another fire you want me to walk through to prove my loyalty.”
His shoulder muscle tightens under my hand and his skin almost feels warmer.
“It’s not your loyalty I’m worried about,” he says after a moment. “It’s your mind. The Kalovaxians have had you for ten years, Theo. That isn’t something that’s easy to leave behind.”
He’s only giving voice to my own fears, but the words still sting. “I told you, I’m fine. And you’re in no position to be judging someone’s sanity. Don’t tell me five years in the mines didn’t leave their mark on you.”
I can feel his temper roiling, but I don’t flinch from it.