Just hearing her talk about my aunt in that proprietary tone made me want to punch her, but I forced myself to smile, bowing my head.
She was wearing a deep-blue gown cut in layers and sparkling with jewels of the same color. Her lips were painted the color of blood, while a diamond and sapphire necklace encircled her neck—matching the crown on her head.
We all filed down to the ballroom. Since the queen enjoyed making an entrance, the ball was already underway. The marble floors had been polished until they gleamed, reflecting the glow of thousands of candles. The king had chosen a forest theme—likely a mockery of the fae and their love of the wild. Ivy draped from the roof in long strands, with maroon and gold baubles hanging from it. The chandeliers reflected off their glassy surfaces, bathing everything in warm light. My hands began to tingle, my heart tripped, my mouth turned dry. This was it.
The music stopped, and everyone bowed to the queen. She made them wait, the hint of a smile on her face. Finally, she nodded, and the dancing resumed once more.
Marth was just foot-spans away, flirting with a courier. Lorian stood to the side, and his eyes met mine, cool and steady. I took a deep breath, and a strange calm filled me.
We could do this.
“Where is His Majesty?” I muttered to Madinia.
“The queen said he’s feeling unwell and will be here later.”
A shiver of apprehension made its way up my spine. I turned to find the king’s assessor watching us walk in, the High Priestess next to him. I gave them a nod, quickly glancing away as something cold and oily settled in my stomach. The king was evil, but the assessors were just as bad. And this assessor—
“There’s Davis,” Madinia announced airily. “We may take a walk in the moonlight later.”
Her tone made it clear what exactly she meant by that. Pelopia sent her a grin. “I do so love the moonlight.”
Lorian was striding toward us. “You look lovely as always, Your Majesty,” he purred, and the queen put her hand in his.
“As do you, Prince Rekja,” she said. “That color suits you.”
While she saw red hair and pale skin, she still wasn’t wrong. Lorian had always suited black.
“You’re too kind.”
The queen merely nodded, slipped her hand from his, and strolled away. Lorian turned to me.
“Will you dance with me…Setella?”
I nodded, heart in my throat as I took his arm and allowed him to lead me to the center of the ballroom.
“You look delicious.”
“Would you be serious? We’re about to—”
He slid his hand up to the bottom of my ribs, his thumb caressing just beneath my breast. I shivered, and his eyes heated. “So responsive,” he murmured. “I know what we’re about to do. It doesn’t change the fact that I want to strip that dress off you and see what I find beneath it.”
“You’ll find knives,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.
His smile was dark—almost feral. “Wicked women are my weakness.”
I couldn’t help but grin up at him.
He squeezed my other hand lightly, and his expression turned serious. “Are you ready?”
“Of course.”
I glanced at Madinia, who was smiling coyly at Davis across the ballroom. She murmured something to him, and he took her hand, leading her out of the ballroom and into the gardens outside. Good.
Tibris would be in place near the cellar. Vicer… Gods, I hoped he’d managed to sneak in.
It all came down to this. Everything rested on how well I could hold time stagnant. And for how long.
I sucked in a deep, steadying breath.
And grabbed my power with everything I had.
The music stopped. Everyone froze. Relief flashed through me, but we didn’t have time for me to reflect on it.
Across the room, Marth continued moving, already heading toward the door. Lorian did the same, dragging me with him. But first, he reached out and unhooked the queen’s necklace with those quick hands. It was around my own neck before I realized he’d moved.
“I believe I owed you jewels,” he said.
I just shook my head at him.
Telean stood waiting. When she saw us, her shoulders sank a little in obvious relief. She swept past us into the ballroom, ready to unclasp bracelets and necklaces. To unhook earrings and remove tiaras and diadems. All of which would be tucked into thick, stolen cloaks.
By the time we got to the dungeon entrance, Tibris had already unlocked the door and was gone. Vicer stood next to the unlocked door, handing out keys for the cells. That replication magic again. Lorian and I each took one, Rythos, Cavis, and Galon appearing behind us, expressions grim, eyes alight. Just seeing them all together, ready to help free the hybrids… Something loosened in my chest. We could do this.
I hauled up my dress and shot down the stairs. Already, I could feel my grip on my power loosening slightly. I sucked in a panicked breath and held tighter. I’d trained so hard, again and again, but time wasn’t meant to be stopped. Not even for this.
In the dungeon, the prisoners were already waiting for us to step out of the way so they could begin moving up the stairs. All of them had stopped eating the food they were given days ago and had eaten the food we managed to smuggle down instead. All of them had a healed scar where their oozing, iron-infected wounds had been. Many of them had been pacing their cells in intervals, building up their stamina for this one chance.
Those who were still too weak to move were carried.
Tibris had gone over the plan with the prisoners over and over again. And so we opened each cell in the best possible order to ensure the prisoners got up the stairs as efficiently as they could. By now, Tibris knew each of their names. Knew who would be able to help the others. Knew who could use their powers to create a ball of light to guide their group or who could be counted on to use their gifts to keep their carriages safe from guards.
I held tightly to my magic, but blood began to drip from my nose. Already, my body was rebelling. My throat constricted, but I forced myself to keep holding on. Lorian was convinced I could do this, convinced I had much more magic than I’d ever thought. And it was that hope I clung to as I grabbed the arm of a young boy, no more than thirteen winters old, and hauled him up the remaining stairs with me.
Daselis stood at the top of those stairs, a young girl with her—obviously her niece. She was helping my aunt, and together they handed each prisoner a cloak with a pocketful of jewelry and gold coins—stolen from the nobles in the ballroom, the bedrooms of the courtiers who lived in the castle, and the room where their cloaks had been stored.
The prisoners wearing little more than rags were given the dresses, shirts, and breeches that Telean had spent the past two days stealing—with Daselis’s help today. As the queen’s seamstress, Telean had unrestrained access to every closet and drawer in the castle.