Page 40 of In the Ravenous Dark
“Why?” I ask.
“Because I’m the crown prince, andyou’lldo whatever I desire,” Kineas declares.
The dead man briefly closes his eyes, not long enough to lose the dance but long enough to look as if he regrets Kineas’s pronouncement. “Because,” he says, “we both need something that the other has.”
I blink. “What?”
“You heard me,” Kineas grates, squeezing me so hard I flinch.
A muscle in the dead man’s jaw clenches. “Dear goddess, won’t he shut up?I’mabout to kill him.”
I can’t help it; I giggle, and that’s the last straw for Kineas. Fortunately the song is near its end, because he breaks away from me, appearances be damned. His body splits from the shade’s abruptly, making me stagger. My hand passes straight through the dead man’s chest. He blinks down at it, as if surprised to find himself a ghost, as well.
I stare at my guardian, marveling at the impossibility of him. Our eyes meet and hold for what feels like a very long second. There’s something between us that wasn’t there before. I just have no idea what it is.
“Th-thank you” is all I have time to stammer, before…
“Rovan?”
My father’s voice. The dead man’s eyes fly wide, his alarm mirroring my own. As he spins toward the voice, he vanishes.
My father is standing right across from me, no longer hidden by my guardian. His hair is an untidy mess of blue and gray, his himation crooked. He looks to have come in a rush, and has probably seen the tail end of my dance with Kineas.
And he’s drawing conclusions as to what it meant.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “No.”
He shouldn’t be here, I know he shouldn’t, but I can only stare at him, tears forming in my eyes. I should tell him to leave, but I want to fall on him and weep. I want to scream.
“I think it’s too late,” I manage, choking on a despairing laugh. “We just had our betrothal dance, after all, witnessed by both Thanopolis’s and Skyllea’s finest.”
“Skyllea?” My father blinks golden eyes in shock, and then his gaze shoots to the dais, to the delegation of colorful-haired people gathered there. “What are they doing here?”
“I don’t think they’re here to help,” I say as gently as possible. “Lydea was just engaged to one of their princes.”
“What?”
He takes a step, as if he’s about to march on the dais. Before I can try to stop him—or before the dead man can, once again alongside us—the king sidles in front of him, having stepped off the dais to head my father off. He places a strong hand on his shoulder.
“Now, Silvean, you were supposed to be resting,” Tyros says, as if speaking to a child. “You’re in no fit state to meet guests. You wouldn’t want to give them the wrong impression, would you?”
“Fuckimpressions,” my father spits, shrugging off the king’s grip. “What are they doing here? And what is this about Rovan’s betrothal to Kineas?”
“They’re here to celebrate new alliances,” Tyros says smoothly, “as should you, if you won’t return to your apartments. Rovan has been graced with the highest honor. Her mother would be proud.”
Yet another veiled threat.
The king leans forward to whisper in my father’s ear. I don’t hear what he says, but whatever it is, the effect is immediate. My father jerks back, his golden eyes bulging, nostrils flaring. I see the dead man’s eyes widen at the same time. There’s no other warning.
The many windows in the great ballroom shatter all at once. Their white wooden frames twist like tree branches lashing in a gale. Their panes explode inward in a glittering cloud. Bigger shards rain down from the ceiling. People scream, sheltering their heads and ducking for cover as glass and spatters of real blood join the red rose petals on the pale floor.
But my father hasn’t flinched. A sword of fire appears in hishand. He shoves me behind him, stronger than I could have guessed, and swings the blade at the king’s neck.
The dead man hasn’t flinched, either. He’s there, stepping between the king and my father, catching the fiery sword on crossed half-moon blades. He moves like air. Like shadow. Like dancing. Then one of the ghostly blades vanishes, and his empty hand shoots out to seize my father’s neck. And it’s over, just like that. Because this is far more than a pinch. The shade not only touches him, butholdshim in place. And it’s not just me who can see the both of them. So can everyone else, based on their surprised, frightened reactions. Everyone leaps away, crying out.
My guardianishere now. And it’s not good; it’s terrible.
The sword of flame vanishes from my father’s hand. The window frames stop twisting. The quiet is suddenly deafening. I can hear people’s isolated sobs along with my own panicked gasping.
