I put my hand to the table for support and drew it back quickly. The table wasn’t glass but a slab of clear ice.
I smoothed my skirts and sat on the soft white fur of the chair, my hands trembling with fear I couldn’t quite master. No animal skin covered the king’s chair, as if he reveled in the cold. The table was set with silver plates, goblets, and cutlery on white napkins. My plate reflected the crystals that hung over my head like tiny swords about to fall.
Chin held high, I glanced around the table. A few people looked away, while others stared openly.
“You must forgive my guests for staring,” said the king. “You are somewhat of a curiosity. The first Fireblood champion.”
Their attention locked on to me as they waited for my reply. I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed silent.
“A laudable achievement,” said one of the men, drawing my eye. He was middle-aged with thick sideburns and heavy features, his eyes assessing. “Though I would never cheer for you openly in the arena, let me congratulate you now. No doubt it will be my only opportunity to do so.” He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Don’t dismiss her so easily, Lord Blanding,” said another voice. Recognition speared through me in a sharp jolt. I had been too nervous to look closely at each guest, and he looked so different out of his uniform, a tailored blue velvet jacket over a stiffly starched white shirt, his dark blond hair carefully swept back from his forehead. “She set fire to half my regiment and escaped from Blackcreek Prison. She’s wily, this one. It took months to find her.”
My gaze swung to the king. He returned the look, his cold, dark eyes ringed with blue, as desolate as a glacier on a frozen sea. Of all the cruelties I’d endured, eating dinner with the captain who killed my mother was the worst. If I could have killed him with a glance, I would have roasted him, both of them. The king’s face was impassive, but his eyes took on a hint of cold enjoyment as he spoke.
“Indeed. And now you have brought her to us. Though I admit I’m not happy at losing the mountain beast and my favorite champion. I expect she will yield all manner of entertainment as compensation.”
Before I could respond, the doors opened and Marella sailed in, resplendent in bronze silk edged with delicate tea-dyed lace. Her smile swept the room as the men stood. She found her seat across from me and settled in. “Am I late again? I can never remember what time we dine.”
The king sent her a cool, half-lidded glance. A man in dark green robes to Marella’s left, Lord Ustathius, admonished her. “Perhaps if you slept during the night and rose in the morning as most people do,” he said, “your clock would align with the rest of the world’s.”
“But that would hinder my star-gazing, wouldn’t it, Father? And we both know the answers to all our questions lie in the stars.”
“If you spent even a fraction of your time in society instead of that blasted observatory, you’d have found a husband by now.”
Annoyance flared in her eyes. “But a husband would never allow me to pursue my passion for knowledge as you do. Better I remain unmarried.”
“I’m not sure how much longer I’ll allow it. I may decide to give you a deadline. Something along the lines of”—he waved a hand—“marry by winter solstice or I’ll send you to the Silent Sisters on Nimbus Island.”
Her lip curled, a flash of something almost violent darkening her eyes. “The Silent Sisters are part of the Order of Cirrus,” she said in a low voice. “I would sooner throw myself off the eastern cliffs.”
The table went silent. My only thought was gratitude that Marella had drawn all attention away from me.
Her father patted her hand, clearly ruffled. “I only jest, my daughter. I’m sure you will find someone from Forsia to marry.”
She sat back in her chair and took a sip from her goblet, clearly trying to regain control. “I’m sure you’re right. I’ll give my hand to someone in his dotage who sleeps half the day, as I do. Or perhaps a man who enjoys gambling and brothels so much that he doesn’t care how I spend my time.”
A laugh split the shocked silence. The captain leaned forward with a rakish grin, his heated gaze sweeping over Marella, lingering on her bosom. “I enjoy gambling and brothels.”
Marella smiled back, displaying a charming dimple. “Aren’t you already married, Captain Drake?”
“That I am.” He practically leered at her. “My wife is very understanding.” His lips took on a mocking twist. “My daughter, however, gives me no peace. She would sooner see me hanged than wrong her mother.”
“As it should be,” Marella said.