Page 49 of A Tale of Ice and Ash
They played together as the evening wore on, stopping every so often to divulge a tale of the lost years. They sang together. Eirwen taught him an old dwarven ballad. She tried to adapt it on the harp, but it lapsed into an old melody, one she’d almost forgotten, a story from childhood folded away. It was like sliding into an old pair of slippers. The brightness of the ballroom had overwhelmed her senses, but this, this was familiar. She belonged in this room amidst the music and the dimmed, starry light.
“Beautiful,” Cole breathed.
“I sincerely hope you are talking about the music.”
He smirked. “If that is what you wish.”
“Do you think enough time has passed, now? Can we go and ambush your mother?”
“Sick of me already, Snow?”
“It’s been an hour.”
“Actually, it’s been closer to two. I guess my company was charming after all.”
Eirwen stood up sharply, whipping out her fan and snapping his nose inside it. “Now, Cole.”
“All right…” He rubbed his nose and slid off the stool, offering his hand to help her up. “No need to get so snappy.”
He opened the door, and they slipped back into the corridor.
“You sure you can do this?” Eirwen asked.
“Are you?”
Eirwen paused. She couldn’t deny that Cole taking on this role was much, much easier. The potion might wipe Bianca’s memory, but she still had no way of hiding who she was once she began her questioning, no way of stopping her from calling for the guards. If Cole hadn’t offered, she’d been planning on tying her up, but getting her away from the crowds would have been a mission in itself.
She ought to be thanking him.
“A few sips of wine should be enough, it’s very potent,” she said instead. “It should take effect within a matter of minutes.”
He tapped his breast pocket, where the vial lay. “Understood. Take care.” He walked away from her, back towards the party. Eirwen, meanwhile, turned down another corridor, feeling along the walls for the concealed panel she remembered from her youth. One of them felt hollow beneath her palm. A quick inspection revealed a hidden latch.
She squeezed into the narrow passageway. It was dark and damp, filled with cobwebs that clung to her skin as she pushed by. The gems on her dress scraped against the stone. She had not thought about how tight the space would be.
She took a chip of sunstone out of her pocket. Faint light rayed from her fingers, illuminating just enough to help her press towards the antichamber. It was a long, slow crawl in the dark, but finally laughter drifted into the passage.
The Queen. She was already there.
Her laughter crawled against Eirwen’s heart, like grains of ice and sand.
She stuffed her sunstone back into her pocket. Faint dappled light dribbled into the passage ahead. The panel into the chamber was a cut-out screen. She could see Bianca stretched out on a chaise, goblet in hand, with Cole beside her sorting through a mound of gifts.
“Another set of crystal glasses from the Marquis De Villenueve,” Cole proclaimed, holding up one for her inspection. “Just as tasteless as the last half-dozen.”
Bianca snorted. “I never know what to do with that odious man. Did the Duchess of Pigna send anything? She always sends beautiful gifts.”
“I’m not sure,” said Cole, pretending to sort through them. He slipped the ring out of his pocket. “Hello! This is a pretty thing. Try it on, Mother.” He sat down beside her and slid it onto her finger. “A perfect fit.”
The Queen gazed at it. “I’ve seen nicer rings,” she said.
Eirwen flattened herself against the panel, taking care not to move it, but desperate to see more, to check for some imperceptible change in Bianca’s countenance, a clue to whether or not it was working.
Cole paused for a moment. “Mother,” he said carefully, “what’s your favourite colour?”
“Red, dearest.”
“Your favorite food?”
