Page 133 of Thorn Season
The words of my father’s killer thumped like a drumbeat in my mind:Keep pushing and you’ll see what happens.
That was exactly what I intended to do.
38
“There,” Tari said around a mouthful of hairpins, securing my last tresses. “Fit for a queen.”
“Not funny,” I mumbled.
“Not trying to be.”
I tracked my eye roll in the long mirror, glad I’d iced my dark, tired circles before she’d noticed them. I’d hardly slept in ten days. Though my specter felt more solid, coursing through me with new purpose, my muscles were stiff and aching.
The gown didn’t help. Though beautiful—strapless and shimmering in deepest indigo—the tulle skirts poured heavily from a tapered waist. A silver, crystal-embedded cape cascaded from the back, and hefty xerylite bracelets twinkled at my wrists.
I resembled the streaming flag of Daradon.
I felt more like a large, sparkly target.
Tari’s face turned somber in the reflection. “They’re baking lemon cakes and pouring the celebratory wine. The orchestra rehearsed the victory anthems. He’ll wait until after the fealty ceremony so he can make a spectacle of it.”
My palms grew slick, my anxiety overflowing. But I reminded myself that I’d chosen this. Ineededthis for the plan to work.
Erik would propose to me tonight—the last night of Rose Season,when the eighteenth-year nobles would assemble before him to swear fealty. The court would erupt in celebration, the crowds growing thick and unruly. It would be the perfect moment for a copycat to enter unnoticed—like on the night of Father’s funeral, or the night of Wray’s murder, when the palace had been bursting with coronation merriment. I would make a lone exit, seemingly drunk and exposed...
And they would strike. I was confident they would.
I held my own gaze in the mirror and drew a deep, trembling breath. There was so much to be afraid of tonight that each new fear had tangled with the previous one, creating a mess of nervous energy inside me.
But I couldn’t let Tari see it.
So, I suppressed my rising dread and grabbed a letter from the vanity. My official seal waxed the envelope. “News of the initiative reached Vereen.”
Tari cringed. “Amarie.”
I nodded. Amarie’s note had been a panicked scrawl of confusion. She couldn’t understand why I would hunt sympathizers in my province; she seemed convinced I was dead and someone had given the order in my name.
“I need you to give her this.” I handed Tari the letter. “It explains everything.”
Tari tried to push the letter back. “Send a messenger.”
“You’re the only one she’ll trust. You need to tell her about the underground prisons we found. Tell her the mercenaries have orders tosearch, not harm.” I swallowed thickly. “Tell her I miss her, and I’m sorry I can’t come home.”
Tari frowned. “You say that like it’s goodbye.”
“Only for a while,” I murmured. Then, unable to hold her gaze, I turned to the vanity and brushed rouge across my cheekbones.
Tari believed exactly what I wanted the keeper to believe—that I’dhired Sabira’s mercenaries to search the tunnels for the copycats’ new stronghold. I hated lying to her, but if she discovered the extent of my hazardous plan, she would want to help.
They’d already taken Father. I wouldn’t let them take her, too.
“I know what you’re doing,” she said. I froze, following her approach in the vanity mirror. Beyond the window, the sun was bleeding into the horizon, and the red-washed light set her copper skin aglow. “You’re trying to get rid of me before tonight. You don’t want me to see you with him.”
I tried not to look relieved, even as guilt curdled my stomach. It was better that she thought accepting Erik’s proposal was the most dangerous thing I would do tonight.
“You know I don’t agree with this,” she went on. “Whatever good you think you’re doing by saying yes to him... it’s not worth it. You’ll be unhappy for the rest of your life. And scared. And scrutinized.” Her nose wrinkled. “And probably a little nauseous all the time.”
I faced her, brows high. “Is this meant to be encouraging?”
