“Here,” Ora said, passing us two crimson robes, painted in spirals of gold. They grabbed a glass bottle off the countertop and misted floral perfume all around us until we were practically drowning in it. “This should cover the worst of the smell.”
We hastily dressed, shuffling toward the screen against the far wall. A tapestry wove across the window, obscuring the grand hall from view. Navin pressed his face to the sheet of stretched fabric and I followed, gasping as I saw the throne room through the gaps in the weave.
The grand hall was warmer and richer than the halls of Taigos and Damrienn. Six golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, shaped like stag’s antlers, a candle atop every point. The wood-accented wall trimmings reminded me of the cabin I grew up in, though much grander, and I realized Vellia had put nods to our kingdom in every corner of our home. Long burgundy banners hung on either side of a dais, and upon that dais was a carved-wood throne.
Sawyn surveyed the festivities with a crooked grin, sitting upon my father’s throne. She held a piece of paper between her pointer and middle finger, tapping the edge of the paper along the armrest.
I scanned over the festivities, searching. The room was filled with entertainers; the walls lined with chattering Rooks. They all stood casually, not guards at attention but attendees to the party. There seemed to be no other Wolves in attendance . . . apart from one.
I gasped as my eyes landed upon Maez. She sat on the steps of the dais, an iron collar around her neck, chained to the throne. The collar was flush against her skin—too tight for her to shift forms without snapping her neck. I wondered if she’d been tempted to try, but if she tried and failed, her death would mean the death of her mate, too. She was filthy, her hair matted and her face stained with grime. In the weeks she’d been gone, she’d withered away, looking weaker and leaner than the muscular Wolf I’d seen in Damrienn. Her eyes were hollow as she stared straight down at the floor.
“Are you enjoying your victory?” Sawyn called, and the Rooks echoed a booming reply. They raised their goblets to her, pulling down their masks to swig down their drinks.
“This is the world we have won together!” Sawyn’s shouts were met with more cheers.
I choked down my anger at her fake words. They were cheering for a false savior and in turn were just pawns for her own glory. Yet her praise seemed to be enchantment enough for them. Ply them with drinks and good food, tell them her victory was theirs, and they’d fight for her, die for her, and I could see why that was enough.
She glanced one more time at the piece of paper in her hand and crumpled it into a ball, throwing it onto the floor, bored.
“King Nero thinks he can threaten me with his possession of the Crimson Princess. He thinks he’s still powerful.” Her predatory smile made her teeth gleam. Her Rooks jeered at her words, spitting and cursing King Nero’s name. Sawyn held up her hand and the Rooks silenced instantly. “Worry not. King Nero couldn’t see the many cracks in his threats.” Her fingers twirled, green lightning zapping between her thumb and fingers. “But that’s because he knows nothing of true power.”
She flicked her hand upward and bolts of lightning zapped across the room. The crowd gasped as a body appeared out of thin air, tumbling to the foot of the dais.
“Let’s see Nero get her now.”
Cheers erupted and my heart cracked as recognition bloomed.
Lying at the base of the steps was Briar.
Forty
Maez’s scream tore above the cheering—a deep, sharp wail. She bolted forward, only to be yanked back by her collar, inches from reaching her mate. She scrambled forward again, reaching out her hand to try to grab Briar’s sleeve. Her fingertips skimmed the fabric, but she couldn’t grasp it.
“Pathetic.” Sawyn grinned as the Rooks erupted in laughter.
But I didn’t see anything pathetic about Maez’s attempts, and the only thing keeping me from doing the same was Grae’s grip on my arm and his soft, steadying words in my ear. For all that, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from my twin’s limp body. Her hair covered her face, her lifeless arms splayed at odd angles, her skirts askew. A river of white lace trailed out toward the quintet of musicians who’d resumed their lively jig. The merriment made me want to howl with rage.
I spotted Malou’s dark hair and gray eyes at last, weaving through the crowd. She held aloft a golden tray with a single bejeweled goblet in its center. In the tan garb of the royal servants, I’d almost missed her. One arm tucked behind her back and her head bowed. Her eyes darted to the tapestry where we stood and gave us a wink. My stomach lurched as she stepped up from the dais, curtsying as she proffered the goblet to Sawyn.
“It’s time,” Ora said from beside me, placing a hand on my numb shoulder.
I pulled my head away to look at our gathering group.
“Please tell me you brought more weapons?” Grae asked Hector.
Sadie opened her puffy costume jacket to reveal her fighting leathers. Armed to the teeth, each belt and buckle was strapped with knives and daggers. “Take your pick.”
“Esh,” Navin cursed at the armory hanging from the lining of her coat.
“Gods, I love you.” My heart raced as I took another throwing knife and paring knife from her belt to accompany my dagger.
I turned to Ora, gesturing to the busy room of performers behind me. “We need to get as many people out of here as possible. Sawyn will think nothing of the human casualties. When the fighting breaks out, you need to lead people to safety.”
“The people who are here want to be here, Your Majesty.” Ora pulled the fox badge out of their pocket and passed it to me. “Look for the badges.”
I furrowed my brow as I swept my thumb over the little fox face. “Look for the badges?”
Ora nodded, taking my shoulders and turning me toward the woven screen. “Do you like this song?”
“Why are you asking me that now?”
“Just tell me.”
I strained to focus on the strings above the sound of clamorous banter. It was quick-paced but melodic, a hint of sorrow amongst the sweeping crescendoes, trailing upward in a way that made my heart swell.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered. “Who wrote it?”
“I did,” Ora said, pulling my gaze back to them. “This is Calla’s song. This is how I think of you.” I took in a shuddering breath as my eyes welled and Ora cupped my cheeks again. “You are not alone, Your Majesty. Look for the badges—”
A deafening crack of lightning shot through the air and everyone jolted.
“It’s time,” Grae said, grabbing me and pulling me into a burning kiss. His storming eyes met mine. “Let’s go save your sister.”
“Let’s go claim my crown.”
My lips collided with his in one more desperate kiss before I grabbed the hilt of my dagger and plunged through the doorway.