“Even after what you heard?”
“Especially after what I heard.”
“You know it will not go as you plan,” he murmured, his breath brushing against the curve of her ear. “You know you cannot stop him while sitting here, playing his game. You know it, and yet you continue to pretend that you don’t.”
“It is the best chance I have.” The words vibrated in her chest.
They whirled faster and faster. The world behind his head blurred.
“So tell me, Aurora, what precisely is your plan? Keep pretending to be the person they all expect you to be? That’s not the way to have power.”
“Maybe I don’t want power,” she said. “Maybe you don’t know anything about me.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But it seems unlikely. I know you.” He dipped her backward, letting her hair sweep across the floor. A couple of bystanders applauded, and when Aurora stood upright again, she felt breathless and dizzy. “It’s adventure for you, dragon girl. Just try to disagree.”
Her face felt flushed, and the world spun slightly. “I am no dragon girl,” she said.
“Again, she lies.” His breath on her ear made her shiver. “How can you be who you were meant to be, when you cannot even be honest with yourself? You have power inside you, Aurora. Magic and fire. Use it.”
He dropped her hand. With a sweeping bow, he vanished back into the crowd. The room swayed, and when Aurora took a step, the floor was farther than she expected. She stumbled. One of the dancers knocked into her side, and she jerked away. Rodric was nowhere to be seen. Back at the main table, she thought. Hiding from the dancing for as long as he could.
The walls seemed to press toward her, shuddering with color and light. The music stopped.
A guard placed a hand on her arm. “Another course is about to be served, Princess,” he said. “If you would . . .”
“I wish to thank the singer,” she said, slipping her arm out of his grasp. The air that filled her lungs felt hot and heavy, almost too thick to breathe. Nettle had been so kind, so wise before, and her songs . . . She picked her skirts up in her hands and hurried to the far end of the room, where Nettle was about to step out of the door. “I wish to speak to her,” she said to the guard who hovered by the singer’s shoulder. “Alone, if you please.”
“Princess, dessert will soon be—”
“It can wait.” She needed to get out of this stifling air. She needed to leave, just for a moment, and hear Nettle’s soothing voice. She had made things seem so much plainer once before. Aurora could not miss the chance to speak to her again.
The guard nodded. “You heard the princess,” he said to Nettle. “Do as she commands.”
They stepped into a passage beyond the hall, not the bright corridor that Aurora had entered through but a narrow, dimly lit place. Servants scurried past, carrying plates.
“I did not mean to command you,” Aurora said. A blush crept over her cheeks. “I just . . . wanted to talk to you.”
“Do not apologize,” Nettle said. “You did nothing wrong.”
Aurora stared up at the singer. Her dress was more elegant than usual, fine material clinging to her waist and pooling at her feet. Her instrument hung loosely from her fingertips, and she watched Aurora with her head tilted slightly to one side. “What did you wish to speak of?”
“Tristan,” Aurora said quickly. “Is he—”
“He is alive, if that is what concerns you.”
Relief rushed through her. “You’ve seen him?”
“Yes, I have seen him. I was supposed to perform at his inn tonight, before the guards forced me away.”
“And he’s all right?”
“He has more bitterness in him than before, and guilt, I believe, too. His efforts over the past few nights have not gone as he had hoped.”
“His efforts?” Aurora echoed. “You know about what—about what happened?”
“I know about many things. It is my job to observe.”
Aurora thought again of the servant with scruffy brown hair, walking to the higher tables. “Is he here tonight?” she asked.
“I do not believe so,” Nettle said, “but he does not tell me all his secrets.”
“I wish I had known what he was like,” Aurora said softly. “Before—” Before she kissed him, before everything. “Just before.”
“You should not,” Nettle said. “Change one thing, and everything else may tumble apart.” She ran her fingers across Aurora’s elbow, the lightest of touches. “I believe he cares for you, in his own way.”
“He cares for his revenge more.”
“Perhaps,” Nettle said. “Things are getting tense.”
“Tense? With Tristan?”
“With everyone.” Nettle’s expression was almost sad as she looked down at her. “There is so much joy before your wedding, so much hope . . . it always turns to fear in the end. People think . . . what if it goes wrong? What if you are an impostor? They are nervous.”
Aurora looked down at her feet. They were hidden under masses of skirt, so heavy and impractical compared to the fashions donned by the queen. “Then I will have to make sure I don’t disappoint them,” she said.
Nettle’s smile was definitely sad now. “Impossible.”
Aurora did not want to think about that. She hardly had a choice. “You performed for Prince Finnegan?” she asked instead. “In Vanhelm?”
“Yes.” Nettle’s expression closed off. “You should watch him. He is another who is more than he seems.”
Aurora did not doubt that. “Did you ever see a dragon?”
“Once. I took a boat across the river from the city. Everyone was so afraid of them, and I was young. I saw a flash of fire in the sky, and a shadow that swept over me. . . .”
“Were you afraid?”
“Yes,” she said. “And no. It was beautiful.”
“I wish—” Aurora paused, not sure how to put her dreams of fire and freedom into words. Before she could finish the thought, a guard appeared in the doorway.
“Princess, the queen requests that you return to the banquet hall immediately. Dessert has been served.”
Nettle instantly sank into a curtsy. “Thank you for speaking with me, Princess.”
Aurora nodded in response. She wanted to stay out here, away from the crowds and the expectations, but she did not dare ignore a direct order from the queen. Everyone was already seated inside the hall. They watched in silence as Aurora moved slowly across the room and took her place between Rodric and Isabelle.
“I am glad you have finally rejoined us,” the queen said.
“I wished to speak to the singer.”
“Still.” The queen frowned. “It does not do to keep everyone waiting.”
“Leave the poor girl alone, Iris,” the king said. “Girls will be girls. We must all have our frivolities. But now, I say we eat.”
A thick slice of cake waited on a plate in front of Aurora. It looked heavy and sickly, with cream lashed around the outside and piles of soft fruit gathered at the edge. Aurora did not want it. She wanted the night to be over.
“You have cherries,” Isabelle said. She spoke quietly, her chin inches from Aurora’s arm. “I love cherries.”
“Do you not have any?” Aurora asked. Isabelle shook her head. “Here.” Aurora plucked a cherry off her plate with her fork. Cream stuck to the red. “Have as many as you like.”
“Don’t you like them?”
“I’m not hungry. Go on.” She held out the fork, and Isabelle bit it. She grinned.
“Good?” Aurora asked.
Isabelle nodded. “Thank you,” she said. She picked up her own fork and skewered another cherry. Then she coughed. Her fork clattered onto the table.
“Isabelle? Are you okay?”
Isabelle nodded and coughed again. She gasped in a breath, but that only made her cough harder.
“Isabelle?” Rodric leaned forward and placed a hand on his sister’s back. “What’s wrong?”
“She just ate some fruit,” Aurora said. “I don’t know, is it stuck in her throat? Isabelle?”
Isabelle bent forward over the table, coughing and gasping.
Iris was behind her in an instant. “What happened?” she said. “What’s wrong? Somebody help her!”
The realization that something was wrong rippled through the room. Several people were now on their feet, pushing toward the gasping Isabelle. Her skin had turned white.
Iris shoved Aurora out of the way and knelt in front of her daughter. She pressed one hand on either side of her face and leaned in close. “Isabelle, Isabelle, talk to me. It’ll be all right. Take a deep breath.”
Isabelle sucked in another breath, but that only made her cough and splutter worse than ever. Then she threw up. Red splattered on the edge of the queen’s skirts, but Iris did not even glance down. Several onlookers scrambled away.
Someone grabbed Aurora by the arm, yanking her backward. She gasped and pulled away, but another firm hand held her in place. “Princess.” It was one of the guards. “We need to get you out of here. King’s orders.”
“What?” she asked. “Why? What’s happening?”
“It isn’t safe,” the guard said in a gruff voice. With a firm arm around her waist, he dragged her toward the door. “You have to come with me.”