Adale pressed her back to the door and slowly slid to the ground.
“Damn it,” she whispered. Svana was right—Esofi would never believe her side of the story, not with anything less than a Truthsayer to confirm her words, and Truthsayers were rarer than diamonds. It would take months for the Order of the Sun to locate one and then months for him to travel to Birsgen. By then, it would be too late.
Still, she forced herself to get up and go to the window, stumbling in the darkness. Someone had removed the expensive glass and boarded it up, so Adale spent a few useless minutes cracking her nails as she tried to wrench the wood free before giving up.
Adale went to the especially dark corner of the room where she knew the fireplace was. Fortunately, it wasn’t boarded up, and after a minute of scrabbling around, she felt a handful of sad little coals within. It took a bit of searching to find the flint, but she managed to get the coals lit. They barely gave more light than the magical vines had, but it was enough to locate a candle and set it aglow.
After taking a moment to congratulate herself, Adale went over to Albion’s desk to see if there was anything useful inside. It was filled with all sorts of things—nobody had cleaned it out during the mourning period. Something colorful caught Adale’s eye.
It was a miniature portrait of a tiny blonde baby girl with ribbons and curls in a lacy white dress. She was standing, so Adale supposed she was old enough to walk on her own but had no idea how old the child might be beyond that. Adale picked it up to find there was a whole stack of portraits underneath, each no larger than her hand.
The next portrait was the same girl but looking a little older, in another delicate dress. The next one featured the girl again, but now she looked like she was about the same age as the castle pages. Adale set the picture aside and went to the next—the same girl but now the age of a temple acolyte, draped in pearls. Now she was familiar enough that Adale finally recognized her.
Esofi.
It made sense, of course, but for some reason, Adale suddenly felt oddly hollow, as though Albion had led a secret life that she’d never known about. She set the portraits aside and looked at the papers underneath.
Letters. Addressed to Albion and written in delicate curling handwriting. Adale turned the first paper over and skimmed to the end, where it was signed with Esofi’s name.
Adale felt her heart lurch.
A thousand unwanted emotions rushed through her as she stared at the signature, followed by the odd feeling that perhaps she oughtn’t read the letter, perhaps it was none of her business what Esofi had had to say to Albion. The words had been meant for him, not for her, and Albion would have shared it with her if it had been any of Adale’s concern.
But before she could make a decision, the doorknob rattled, and Adale dropped the paper.
“Is someone there?” shouted Adale, rushing forward just as the door swung open. Lisette stood in the doorway, lockpicks still in her hands. Peering over her shoulder was Mireille, who beamed widely when she saw Adale.
“You!” said Adale. “How did you—?”
“Quickly,” said Lisette.
Chapter Seven
ESOFI
Esofi stood in the doorway to the ballroom, her ladies on either side, listening to the sound of her heartbeat and the soft rustling of her own petticoats. The room before her was already filled with laughing, glittering Ieflarians and curious foreigners, all waiting to hear her decision. In one corner, she could see Squire Ilbert and a few footmen guarding the marriage contract, which was complete save for the blank space where the name of Esofi’s betrothed would be filled in after she announced her choice.
“Princess Esofi of Rhodia,” announced the herald, his voice echoing across the ballroom. “Lady Lexandrie of Fialia, Lady Lisette of Diativa, and Lady Mireille of Aelora.”
The room fell silent, and Esofi felt a bit light-headed. She was certainly used to being stared at by hundreds of people; it had been a regular aspect of her childhood, after all. But rarely was she the unequivocal center of attention. Attention would rest on her for a moment, then move on to her siblings before usually settling on her parents.
But now, everyone was watching her, and her alone.
Esofi stepped forward into the ballroom, a soft smile on her face. The servants had outdone themselves tonight. Everything gleamed, from the wooden floors to the candlesticks. It seemed every archway had been decorated with early roses and every plinth held an enormous gold vase that was near to bursting with flowers.
Esofi’s dress was pale-golden silk intricately embroidered with patterns of flowers in bloom. The upper skirt parted in the front, revealing the second layer of ivory skirts beneath it. The sleeves were held against her skin until they reached her elbow and exploded into three separate layers of loose ruffles, similar to the ruffles around her neckline. The bodice of the dress was brocade and had been sewn with tiny diamonds.
Around her neck, she wore a triple-stranded pearl necklace set with an enormous yellow sapphire. Her earrings and bracelets were pearls as well, and although it was impossible to see them, her shoes had also been sewn with pearls. Her ladies had styled her hair as usual, but this time instead of ribbons or flowers, she wore a small golden filigree tiara.
She was immediately approached by some Ieflarian nobles, but she barely heard their compliments. She scanned the room, but it seemed neither the twins nor Adale had arrived yet.
Carriages had been arriving for the past few days, bringing guests from all across Ieflaria and even beyond. It was equal parts betrothal ceremony and celebration of the end of the mourning period. Even an olive-skinned couple with crowns resting in their dark hair were at the center of another crowd—King Marcius and Queen Isabetta of Vesolda.
King Dietrich and Queen Saski were the next to enter, bringing the room to a hush. They were both accompanied by their retinues, but Adale was not with them. Esofi waited to see if she would be announced afterward, but the next party to arrive were from Armoth, one of Ieflaria’s western fiefs.
Esofi approached Saski once the initial wave of people greeting the queen had drifted on to other things.
Saski’s face brightened when she saw Esofi. “Oh, my dear, you look so lovely. I’d hug you, but I’m afraid for your dress. I can’t tell you how happy I am to have you here.”
“Thank you,” said Esofi. “Have you seen Adale yet?”
“She’s not here yet?” asked Saski.
Esofi shook her head.
“But she left before I did. How…odd. I’m sure she’ll be here any moment, then. She was extremely eager for tonight, you know.”
Esofi nodded and told herself that she was being silly. Adale wanted her. She hadn’t spent hours researching the dragons solely out of a sense of responsibility—had she?
No, Esofi told herself. Not Adale.
The twins were the next to arrive, in matching outfits of pale-blue silk. They completely ignored everybody except Esofi, attaching themselves to her sides as they always did, their hands stroking her arms softly as they spoke. Perhaps they were feeling less homesick than usual, because they seemed to be in especially good spirits that night, with no complaints about the food or the decorations or the servants.
As the bell chimed six, the musicians began to play and people began wandering toward the floor to dance. Esofi stared at them, unseeing, while Mireille and Lisette whispered fiercely to one another behind her back.
“Wouldn’t you like to dance?” asked Brandt, holding out one hand to her. Some of Adale’s friends were already on the floor, and so she took his hand and allowed him to lead her in a dance—only to slip out of his grasp at the first spin-and-release and intercept Lady Daphene before she could return to her own partner.
She’d half expected Daphene to be offended, but Adale’s lady seemed to find the whole thing funny.