Lately, I’ve been wondering if the choice to stay here is a weakness.
But where would I go? I can’t go back to Washington, DC—and even if I could, what would I do? We disappeared in the middle of the night, facing a man with a gun. Our family’s apartment has probably been emptied out and rented to someone else now. I have no identification, no documents, nothing.
Without warning, I think of my mother, and the memory of her death almost smothers me. We lost her because of cancer. We lost everything else because of my father.
My chest grows tight, and I can’t breathe.
“Here, my lady,” says Freya. “Look.” She turns me to face the mirror.
It’s a huge testament to this dress that it jerks my thoughts away from a downward spiral. In the mirror, it’s even better than it looked laid across the bed. “Freya,” I breathe. “Where did you find this?”
“Ordered by His Highness.” Her blue eyes flick up to meet mine in the mirror, and her voice drops. “In the colors of Emberfall.”
“Oh.” I lose the smile. It’s not just a pretty dress. It’s a political statement.
“From what I understand,” she adds as she smooths my skirts, “he ordered a dress for Zo as well.”
“Really?”
She nods.
Freya is ten years older than I am, and since I helped rescue her and her children from an attack by Syhl Shallow’s soldiers, she’s been my lady-in-waiting in the palace. In a way, she’s also been like a surrogate mother. She knows about Zo and what we did for Grey. She knows how it’s driven a wedge between me and Rhen—and maybe driven a sliver between me and Zo.
It might have caused tension between me and Freya too, because I know how she feels about Syhl Shallow. Their soldiers destroyed her home, leaving her and the children shivering in the snow. Leaving them with nothing until Rhen offered her a position here in the castle. But the night Rhen had Grey and Tycho beaten, she was as horrified as I was. She’d never speak a word against Rhen, but I remember the hard set of her jaw, the way her breath had trembled.
I need to stop thinking about this. It was months ago. I made a choice. I stayed.
And it’s not like Grey isn’t planning to strike back.
“Why did he order a dress for Zo?” I say. Zo wasn’t planning to come to the party. She doesn’t like being in a position that reminds her of being a guardsman, and she definitely doesn’t like being in the same room as Rhen.
If he sent her a dress, I wonder how she took it. Worse, I wonder how he meant it. When it comes to strategic planning, Rhen can be downright brilliant—but he can also be an epic ass.
Freya arranges my hair across my shoulder, adjusting a pin here and there. “Well, I presume he hoped she would attend with you.” She pauses. “Perhaps His Highness wants a guard-who-is-not-a-guard at your side. Jamison said the soldiers are antsy because it is rumored that an attack from Syhl Shallow could occur at any moment.”
I glance at Freya in the mirror. “When did you talk to Jamison?” The soldier was one of the first to lend support to Rhen and Grey when I convinced them to leave the grounds of Ironrose and help their people. He’s another person who hates Syhl Shallow, after one of their soldiers took his arm and destroyed most of his regiment when he was stationed in Willminton. Now he’s a lieutenant in the regiment stationed nearby, but he’s rarely inside the castle.
“When I took the children to visit Evalyn last week,” she says. “We saw him on the road back.” She pauses. “He was very kind. He accompanied us to the castle.”
“Oh.” I’m not sure what to make of that. I used to spend so much time with the guards and soldiers. I would train alongside them. I’d be included in their banter and gossip. For the first time in my life, no one treated me like a liability. Like I was incapable. I felt like I belonged.
Now every interaction I have feels weighted with suspicion. I didn’t realize how important that feeling of belonging had grown until it was gone.
Now the only person I train with is Zo.
I have to clear my throat. I wish I’d known Freya was going to see Evalyn, because I would have joined her, just for an excuse to talk to someone. But maybe I wasn’t welcome.
I hate this.
A knock sounds at my door, and my breath catches. It’s probably Rhen, so I call, “Enter.”
It’s not Rhen. It’s Zo. The door swings open and she strides in, wearing a dress in a darker crimson than my own, her bodice so dark it’s almost black, with cherry-red lacings. Her muscled arms are bare, her braids twisting down her back to her waist.
“Wow,” I say.
Zo smiles and offers me a curtsy. “You too.”
“You didn’t tell me you were coming.”
She shrugs a little. “I … wasn’t sure I was.” She strokes her hands along the skirts and sighs. “But it would be foolish to offend the crown prince again.”
I frown.
“Don’t look like that,” she says. “I thought maybe you’d want a friend anyway.”
Against my will, tears fill my eyes, and I step forward to hug her.
Her arms are tight against my back, but she says, “You’ll undo all of Freya’s hard work.”
“You’re such a good friend,” I say. “I don’t deserve you.”
She draws back to look at me, her eyes searching mine. “Yes, you do.”
Freya steps forward and begins pinning tiny white flowers into my hair. She has red ones in her hands, and I expect her to add them, but she turns to Zo. “Here,” she says. “A finishing touch.”
Zo holds still, her hands gentle on mine.
In another life, we’d be getting ready for prom, not getting ready for a party that’s really an excuse to build alliances in anticipation of war.
I draw a shaky breath.
Zo’s eyes are steady on mine. “You rallied them once before,” she says quietly.
“I have no armies this time,” I whisper. “I have nothing to offer.”
She regards me soberly, then leans in to kiss me on the cheek. “You had none then, Princess.”
That’s true. Somehow I’d forgotten. My breathing steadies.
When I first came here, I knew what was right. I risked my life for this country. So did Grey, a thousand times over. I would never have allowed anyone to make me feel guilty for helping the people of Emberfall. I would never have let anyone make me feel like I’d made a poor choice by helping Grey.
I shouldn’t be allowing it now.
As we turn for the door, I catch a glimpse of us in the mirror. The dresses are truly stunning together, a clear signal that we stand for Emberfall.
Rhen once asked me to be his ally, to present a united front to his people. To stand at his side. This … this is different. I’m not a billboard.
Anger, familiar and not entirely unwelcome, builds in my belly, chasing away everything else.
“Wait,” I say, pulling Zo to a stop. “Freya?” I tug the bow of my bodice loose. “We’re both going to need another dress.”
Rhen has spared no expense, and considering that he only issued a summons for this “party” a week ago, I’m sure it wasn’t cheap. The call for loyalty to Emberfall is evident in every red tablecloth, in every gold candlestick, in the massive crest hung over the fireplace in the Great Hall. Musicians have been stationed in the corner, their playing lively and vibrant, a melody chosen to project confidence. The castle doors stand open, allowing the night air to flow into the space. Guards stand at assigned intervals, their weapons and armor gleaming, while servants carry loaded trays to the tables. I can smell the food from the top of the staircase.