Page 18 of A Court of Masks and Roses
The corners of Wil’s mouth twitch in a suppressed smile. The brat knew exactly what he was baiting.
“Unless there is something I am misunderstanding?” Raza adds, batting her curled lashes. “Dansil loses Sylthia to Everett. Dansil fights a losing war for twenty years.” Raza ticks the items off on her fingers as she speaks. “Dansil begs for a ceasefire. As soon as Everett agrees, Dansil attacks Everett’s mines in Sylthia. Have I misunderstood something?”
“Dansil didn’t attack Everett’s mines. Viva Sylthia did,” Firehorn tells Raza. “They are a rebel group, and we denounce their violence as much as you do.”
“How... convenient.” Raza empties her water glass and holds it over her shoulder. “Get me another one,” she snaps at one of the servants.
I avert my eyes. With the Dansil heir a rebellious adolescent and the Everett crown princess a spoiled, entitled damsel, my fear for the future of both our kingdoms goes beyond military conflict. Lord Gapral used a heavy hand in raising me and the other scouts, but I’m willing to bet my lifethat even the youngest of his trainees is a more responsible human being than either of the royal heirs.
King Firehorn clears his throat. “Perhaps you might bless the meal, Your Grace. A full belly does wonders for both spirit and mind, and I admit that I have been admiring those meat pies for some time.”
Bahir waits until everyone at the table bows their head, then raises his powerful voice across the room. “In the spirit of the Goddess, our mother, blessed be the food before us,” Bahir intones with an orator’s presence that hints at how this man of barely forty years has singlehandedly grown the Order from a scattering of small temples into Dansil’s dominant spiritual force.Before Bahir, religious followings were as numerous and varied as the kingdom’s towns. “May it strengthen our bodies against disease. And may it strengthen our spirit against unholy temptation and corruption of your grace. So say we all.”
I cut my gaze to our Everett guests, gauging their emotions, while the others murmur the prescribed “so say we all.” None of the Everett delegation look the bishop’s way, their dislike of him palpable. Everett’s late Prince Rune, who died five years ago at Viva Sylthia’s hands, was a strong whisperer and the love of his people. Bahir’s views on whisperers earn little goodwill from our intended allies.
And given the delight that is Raza, it’s little wonder they wish Rune still lived.
Picking up a basket of rolls, I offer one to Raza. “How were you ever able to travel here, Princess Raza?” I ask in Lianna’s butterfly-light voice. “I hear no child drought plagues Everett, but did the journey not pose a great risk to the crown princess?”
Raza lifts her wine glass and offers a smile that falls shortof her eyes. “Some journeys are worth the risk. It’s crown business—I would hardly expect you to understand.”
I force myself to smile politely. “Indeed.”
“Plus, I think Rune would have been happy to see me here,” Raza continues.
I think Rune would have been appalled at the pretty monster his sister has grown into. Seizing the bread basket again, I turn away from Raza and offer the rolls to Bishop Bahir.
Engaged in conversation with the Everett envoy, the bishop reaches blindly for a roll. His hand glances against mine as I hold the basket steady, and then slides forward toward the bread.
Blinding pain explodes behind my eyes as the bishop’s ring touches my skin.
11
KALI
Igasp, dropping the basket to the table. Bahir’s eyes lock on mine, the specks of yellow and green in them flashing for a heartbeat with identical shock and agony—and then fury—before narrowing to a placid concern that mirrors the others’.
Servants rush toward me with water and cool towels that pose a grave threat to my makeup.
“What’s happened?” the king asks, the concern in his voice genuine.
“Will you take some water, Lady Lianna,” Bahir says, his goatee shifting with his worried frown as he leans closer to offer me his own goblet.
I raise my hands defensively. “A migraine hit me with an arrow’s force. I am so sorry.”
“Your handmaiden warned the staff that you suffer headaches,” Firehorn says smoothly. “Is the excitement of the evening too much for you today?”
“Not at all,” I manage to say, though my head is stillbuzzing with phantom jolts. “I’m sure a bit of food in my stomach will set me to rights in no time.” I sway in my seat, staying upright only thanks to Trace’s steady hand suddenly cupping my elbow. I hadn’t seen him move to my side. As my mind recoils in a toxic mix of humiliation and confusion, I catch the furious flash of Raza’s eyes and Bishop Bahir’s emotionless glare. My stomach churns.
Before I can draw a breath, Trace shifts his weight subtly to put himself between me and the other guests. “Shall I escort you to your rooms?” the guardsman asks, already braced to pull my chair out for me.
As much as I want to decline, my body’s threat to fail me in the middle of this viper’s nest calling itself dinner is too great to ignore. I accept the offered arm.
Once in the corridor, however, I snatch my hand away from Trace’s forearm to conceal my trembling fingers.
Trace frowns at me from above, but only for a moment. His eyes are busy surveying the corridor’s shadows, the face of each person passing by us. I’ve seen him do as much while on duty for the king, but it’s different now that he is protecting me. Stars, he is good.
Unlike Kal, who is a sham.
