“Where did you find it?”
“Find it?” Andraste spends most of her time in hunting leathers. I’d have thought fashion would have been the last thing my sister would ever willingly discuss. “I had it made on a whim several weeks ago. It… It seemed a little more fitting for the night. After all, he’s the Prince of Evernight. Therefore, why not wear the dress that makes me resemble the stars?”
The faintest of smiles plays about Andraste’s lips. “Has Mother seen it?”
“Not yet.”
I can’t explain why I withheld the dress. Only a gnawing sense the queen will not approve.
Andraste laughs. “Oh, I can’t wait to see her face when she does. Wait until the last moment to reveal it, or she’ll strip you to your skin.”
The precise thought I’d had. For a second, some of the old camaraderie we’d once shared whispers in the night.
Of course, she’s happy. You won’t be around to block her path to being named princess-heir.
My smile dies on my lips.
Only three minutes separate the pair of us, and from the moment we were birthed into the world, we were inseparable. I remember rolling in the grass with her as children, chasing demi-fey through the trees, stealing into Mother’s chambers and trying on her jewelry and her crowns….
I don’t know where it all went wrong.
I can’t remember a single fight or betrayal that tore us apart. It was a slow creep of realization, I suppose. Leaving childhood behind and realizing my sister was now my competitor.
It was one of my tutors who pointed out the future to me. I’d never wanted the crown. Andraste could have it for all I cared, but my hob tutor had slapped his cane on the desk in front of me one day when I wasn’t paying attention and snapped that if I didn’t focus on my lessons, then my future was bound to be short and inconsequential.
She’d never hurt me, I protested.
But every ball, I’d see the pair of us on display. Nobles would circle around us, and I realized Andraste was making her own little court.
It soon became clear she was the favorite. The one who began to be seated at Mother’s right hand on the dais. The one who was asked for advice in Mother’s Round Chamber. The doors would close in my face, and I’d see my sister through them, shooting me a sad, apologetic look.
It’s been years since I’ve seen that expression.
The sister I knew is gone, replaced by this hard, implacable woman. Though she wears no crown, the circlet of braids reminds me of a coronet every fucking time I see it.
“You should make the most of it,” she finally says.
“My three months in Evernight?”
“Yes.”
I give an incredulous laugh. “I think you’ve been drinking too much elderberry wine, sister.”
“Perhaps it won’t be so bad,” she replies, toying with the ring on her finger.
Won’t be so bad? “Which part?” My voice roughens. “The part where I’m handed over to a monster? The part where I have to bargain for both my virtue and my life?” A horrible thought occurs. “Was this your idea?”
She has the ear of the queen, after all.
Andraste flinches. “I-I warned against it. But you know she doesn’t always listen.”
It sounds like the truth.
And I want to believe it so badly….
For a moment, Andraste looks like she wants to tell me something.
Then the queen stalks toward us, surrounded by her advisors and guard. The moment’s lost.
“Are you ready?” she demands of both of us, though I know she’s looking at me.
I can’t help myself.
Some part of me always has to challenge her.
So I step forward and brush the cloak from my shoulders, where it falls in a spill around my skirts.
The queen’s face hardens when she sees the dress. For a second, rage ignites her magic, and glints of pure gold streak through her irises.
Defiance is her least favorite attribute.
But it’s too late now.
I arch a brow in her direction. “I don’t want him thinking how nice the red dress looks against my skin, and the white gives the impression I’m some pure little dove ripe for the plucking. Considering I don’t have any chain mail in my wardrobe, I settled on the least offensive option.”
“Oh, Iskvien.” Her jeweled claws capture my chin, the heat of her magic banking in her eyes. “Why must you always defy me?”
“Because I want to make my own destiny, Mother.”
“You’ve already made it,” she whispers, the claws biting into my skin. Not quite firmly enough to cut, but I’ll have little pinprick bruises on the morrow. “And now, you can lie in your bed and bear the consequences.”
“Mother,” Andraste murmurs.
They share a look, and I hate the fact they’re clearly communicating something I don’t understand.
“Let Vi wear what she likes,” Andraste says. “There are too many witnesses.”
There’s no time for the queen to punish me for the transgression. Trumpets blare, and a malicious whispering wind suddenly springs through the trees, announcing the arrival of another court.
The queen lets me go, her spine straightening. It’s one thing to punish defiance, quite another to have it witnessed by the enemy. And in her world, even if she calls them allies, the other queens are all the enemy.
I breathe a sigh of relief and glance at my sister. It irks to have to say it but… “Thank you,” I mouth.
Andraste gives me a sad little smile.
Time to throw the dice and play the game of my life.
I don’t join the dancing.
There’s nothing to celebrate.
And I can’t stand to remain with my mother’s delegation, watching as she introduces Andraste to envoys and foreign nobles from other courts.
Instead, I grab two glasses of elderberry wine, drain one, and then sip the other as I weave through the gathering.
There has to be some way to escape this trap, though I’m aware that two of my mother’s guards stalk me circumspectively. Running is clearly not an option.
Perhaps the Queen of Aska will take mercy on me and welcome me into her court in exchange for every little secret I know about my mother? Unlikely, though, and my mother would make it her life’s duty to have me assassinated.
Painfully.
I’m running out of options when a shiver trickles down my spine; a sense of trepidation hovering in the air, like the lingering portent of a lightning strike about to detonate.
I turn.
For a second, there’s nothing there but myriad dancing fae.
Then shadows melt together, forming into a tall, masked figure that stalks through the crowd as if it doesn’t exist. It’s as if Kato, the god of death, walks among us. But this is no god, slumbering now in the memories of the fae. This male is carved out of hard, heated flesh and practically poured into black leather. Despite my anxiety, I can’t help noticing the breadth of those shoulders and the powerful flex of his thighs.
The fae of mother’s court flee before him like deer scattering before an approaching predator.
Because that’s exactly what he is.
Even I feel it.
Piercing eyes meet mine through the eyeholes of the mask he wears; a feathered raven’s beak cascading over his brow. Though no crown graces his temples, power drips from him, leaving me with no doubt of whom I face.