Page 57 of Destiny Redeemed
I’d stared at her, baffled. “You’re not shocked that I want to help a criminal escape? That my father was involved in Magnus’s downfall?”
She’d shrugged, setting down a freshly pressed chemise. “My lady, no lord stays in power that long without doing something underhanded.”
“And you’re not judging me?”
Laurel had hesitated then, her eyes finding mine in the candlelight. “Well, you weren’t quite right in the head before, so it’s understandable.”
Normally I’d have been offended… slightly, but then the laughter had bubbled up from somewhere deep inside me—pure, unfiltered relief washing through my body. It felt freeing to be able to tell someone finally. We’d spent the rest of the night planning our prison break over tea and honey cakes she’d smuggled from the palace kitchens.
I examined the bruises marring my skin. I’d healed considerably in the past few days, but evidence of my encounterwith Red remained. A dark ring circled my throat where his hands had squeezed, and one eye was still shadowed with purple-green like a fading storm cloud.
“You’ve worked magic, Laurel,” I said, examining her handiwork. The makeup blended the bruises seamlessly into my skin, the darker areas now looking like intentional shadows to complement my gown.
“Magic is just skill and patience.” She fastened my mother’s silver necklace around my throat, covering the last of the bruising.
That reminded me I hadn’t spoken to my mother in months now after she basically disowned me. Would she ignore me at the ball too?
Our carriage rattled over the cobblestones as we left our apartment, heading toward the palace. I watched through the window as the market district faded into the distance, its familiar chaos replaced by the manicured gardens and towering spires of nobility.
“Are you certain about this?” Laurel asked quietly, her eyes searching mine.
I palmed the hidden pocket where Anderic’s dagger rested. “No, but when has certainty ever been a luxury we could afford?”
The palace loomed ahead, golden light spilling from its windows like liquid sunlight. Music drifted through the evening air, a beautiful melody to accompany our dangerous dance.
Our carriage stopped in front of the palace’s gates, the wheels crunching on the pebbled pathway as we circled the breathtaking fountain. Water arced in crystalline streams from the mouths of white marble lions, catching the light of a hundred lanterns and transforming ordinary water into liquid diamonds.
The palace loomed before us, its white stone walls bathed in golden light. Massive spires reached toward the indigo sky-like fingers grasping for stars. Banners in royal blue and goldfluttered from every tower, dancing in the evening breeze. Tonight, flowers adorned every available surface—roses, lilies, and exotic blooms I couldn’t name twisted around columns and festooned doorways.
Beside me, Laurel gasped softly. “The palace is breathtaking tonight.”
“It is,” I agreed, though my attention was more focused on the guards stationed at every entrance. I counted twelve visible ones, which meant at least twice that number were hidden from view. Wonderful. Fewer guards for unimportant places. Breaking Gareth out wasn’t going to be as challenging as I’d anticipated.
We stood before the massive gate, waiting as nobles in their finery streamed past us. The announcer, a thin man with a pinched face, cleared his throat.
“Your name, my lady?”
“Lady Ilyana D’Arcane,” I supplied, then tapped his arm and added, “and Lady Laurel.”
The man’s eyebrows shot up as he glanced at my maid. “My lady, I don’t—”
I fixed him with my most imperious glare, the one I’d practiced in the mirror for occasions just like this. “And Lady Laurel,” I repeated, my voice sharper than Anderic’s dagger in my hidden pocket.
He swallowed visibly. “Lady Ilyana D’Arcane and Lady Laurel,” he announced, his voice carrying across the entrance hall.
We stepped through the arched entrance onto granite floors polished to a mirror-like shine. Massive white walls were decorated with banners and portraits of previous royal family members. A wide door offered access to the ballroom directly ahead, giving us a glimpse of the main floor and the crowd inside—women in colorful dresses and men in formal attire swirling like exotic birds circling crows.
Two suspended staircases with elaborate iron railings swept up on both sides, leading to the upstairs floor and two additional doors. The entire scene was magnificent, but I couldn’t help remembering that somewhere beneath all this splendor was a dungeon holding a man I needed to free.
Damn Gareth and his seven generations.
I could already feel the disdain and murmur of gossip as we entered, but I smiled my brightest smile and made my way through the crowd. People stared, their gazes lingering on the barely concealed bruises on my face and neck. Let them stare. I’d endured worse than their whispers.
Before I could take a few more steps, I suddenly found myself enveloped in my mother’s arms. The familiar scent of lavender and rose water surrounded me, momentarily transporting me back to childhood.
“My darling girl!” Mother’s hands fluttered over my face, gently touching the edge of a bruise. “Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere else? Why did you even go there? Why take such risks?” Each question came faster than the last, her voice rising with concern.
My father had already joined us, his face grave as he examined my injuries. No sarcastic remarks, no clever criticisms—just quiet concern in his eyes.
