Page 79 of I Summon the Sea

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

A food taster samples the king’s food as we dig into our own. Manservants walk by, ladling out various morsels onto our plates, and though thoroughly distracted by the sight of the king, I find myself eating. The meat is delicious, the greens crunchy, the sauces buttery and spiced, the bread soft and aromatic.

All that remains at the periphery of my mind, though, my eyes trained on the dais.

It’s a useless exercise. I’m too far away to discern anything of note. But that’s him. The fae king. The bane of this world. If looks could kill, he’d be a hundred times dead by now.

A trio of musicians enter through a side door. They walk up and down the length of the hall, playing soft music on flutes and lyres. Maids carry platters of sweet cupcakes and tarts topped with colorful fruit.

Killing the king during this banquet is impossible. If I threw my dagger, would it fly far enough to hit the king? Would it go through any spell he surely has about his person for protection? Is it worth using up my one chance at getting him when the odds don’t seem favorable?

So I wait and bide my time, even though time isn’t on my side. Doing the deed will have to happen now, today, tomorrow,or the day after. That’s all the time I have at my disposal before the second trial. It’s awfully short, and I already wasted half a day and a night lying unconscious.

“Lady Selene of the Rhamnus, the king’s betrothed!” the herald cries, accompanied by the sound of horns.

She enters dressed in gold, the bodice of her long gown glittering with gems, her blond hair upswept and crowned with a tiara. She looks regal and elegant, beautiful in that ethereal, too-perfect way of the fae.

She climbs onto the dais. Someone has reserved her a seat there, and she sinks into it, fading from my view.

“Fashionably late,” Mera mutters from beside me, gnawing on a bone. “That’s his betrothed, huh? Everyone has been talking about it.”

Everyone? It’s news to me. But who cares? Certainly not me, because my attention is caught by a man approaching the dais from the other direction.

It’s Jai.

Why is he late? What is he playing at?

A murmur circulates among the fae aristocrats lining the table, slowly rising to a crescendo. Jai doesn’t appear to take notice, taking his sweet time to approach, then pulling a chair near the king—because of course, one was reserved for him, too—and taking his seat.

Just in time for the king to rise and give a speech, it seems.

Two guards step forward, spears thumping on the wooden dais, the hollow sound echoing in the hall. Horns and trumpets sound, rattling the thick glass on the small windows at the top of the walls. The chandeliers sway gently, swinging the shadows back and forth across the room. I think I see dragons in them, and I wonder if Jai was asked to play with the shadows.

But if he was, his posture shows no sign of it. He’s sprawled back in his seat, insolent, one hand swirling wine in his goblet, dark head tipped forward.

The king stands up, throwing back his golden mantle, and all murmurs die a quiet death. He’s truly regal in his somber attire, almost a match for Jai’s—except he has golden epaulets and golden finishes glinting on his jacket. The crown on his head rises tall, a tangle of antlers and thorny briar, brilliant gems flashing with his every move.

I can barely see his face from here, and I only know his hair is pale because it seems to glitter like the gold of his crown when he tips his head back.

“Happy Pillar celebration,” he says, his deep voice moving over us like a cold wave. “Welcome to the hallowed halls of the Sacred Palace where we feed the gods their due and appease the Pillar with offerings.”

“Hear, hear,” the fae chant.

Only the humans are silent.

“Welcome, exulted noble guests from the many fae cities and estates, from the valleys and hills,” the king continues. “Your presence and your alliance are appreciated. Welcome, also, humble children of the earth, magicless and powerless humans. Your sacrifice is treasured.”

The silence deepens.

“In the history of the Nine Worlds…” His gaze swings over the table, and I swear it finds me, pinning me like a moth. “Each Reversal has brought renewal and rebirth. The stacked, hollow worlds we inhabit grow stagnant, their magic thinning out. As we turn upside down, new obstacles must be overcome and new riches discovered.”

I realize I’ve stuck my fork into a piece of meat, and I’m gripping the bone handle so hard my hand aches. Each Reversal has brought devastation and death, this last one not being anydifferent, and that’s without counting invaders spilling through the gates. Without countinghim.

“We recall the last Reversal,” he says, “when the gods punished us but then smiled upon us, showing us a way out of our dying world and into this one. When we struck down through the new openings and gates, we didn’t know what to expect, but fate has brought us here. It has joined our people together. To commemorate that great event, our arrival to this world, and the salvation of our people, we are gathered here to offer libations and sacrifices. Sacrifices to the gods and to the great Pillar sustaining the worlds, keeping them from floating away into emptiness. Blessed be this spindle, this hinge of the universe.”

Sacrifices. Killing. Memories rise to engulf me, flashes of images painted with bright gore fill my mind, familiar, loved faces contorted in agony?—

“And finally,” the king says, “let us thank the two human volunteers who joined the trials of their own free accord.”

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