Page 55 of Of Stars and Lightning
“Well,” Nina said quietly. “He sometimes goes to visit Eswin without telling us, though. Maybe??—”
“No.” Sawyer’s tone was firm, and Sol swore the space around them heated. “My father did something.”
Nina remained silent, as if afraid to agree.
Sol said, “Would he be punished for killing that kingsman?”
“More than likely,” Alix called back. “But I also searched the dungeons. He isn’t in the castle.”
They reached the staircase. “After this dinner, we split up. I’m not ok with one of our own being gone for so long.” Sawyer looked at Sol. “It’s not like him.”
Sol held her gaze, not failing to notice the panic. It made her wonder about the dynamic between them, between them all. To have a group so interwoven together… would she ever fit in with them?
She nodded, deciding it was a thought for another time.
Sol’s blood raced as she peered over the railing to the floor below. A sea of people, all dressed in different fashion and luxuries, awaited at the foot of the stairs, their conversations halting as they spotted her. She recognized the Dianese staple attire, skin-tight dresses and outfits made from iridescent fish scales. And the Romalia furs wrapping around a plump woman with purple lips and amber hair.
Sol didn’t know who to focus on, if she should smile or frown, or just jump off the balcony and end her misery.
Beside her, Nina looped an arm through hers, beginning the gentle descent.
“You look like you’ve seen a Jinn.”
Sol’s stomach twisted. “I’m going to throw up.”
“I told you not to eat,” Sawyer remarked, her shoes clicking against the stairs. “But no one listens to Sawyer.”
“They are just people, Princess,” Alix said as he shifted to the spot behind her, letting her lead the way instead. “They are merely curious about you.”
Sol wondered if telling the nobles she didn’t have any of the answers they sought would make them leave her alone. Surely, they wanted to know about her mother—or compare them. Inquire about Sol’s magic or lack thereof.
Again, Sol knew none of that, so they would be just as disappointed as she was.
They made it to the bottom of the steps. The entire castle seemed mute. Not a single sound resonated, nobody moved as Sol stepped into the foyer. Crowds parted for her and her court, leaving them in a semicircle of glares.
Sol inhaled and focused on the outside, beyond the open doors behind the guests, pretending like the evergreen trees were birches and the stone was the sand of home.
When she finally felt like she wouldn’t faint, she met some gazes. Faces from all edges of Erriadin glanced back at her, some with curiosity, others with disinterest. Just as Sol was about to speak, to say anything to break the palpable tension, the room warmed.
“Welcome to Rimemere, my dear Wielders,” Arnold Semmena’s voice boomed from the floors above as he and his own court began their descent to meet them.
He wore a deep navy-blue attire, his golden crown resplendent against the silver décor. Samara and Gina wore similar gowns, gray and simple, though Sol had to admit the dress was stunning against Samara’s darker features.
“We appreciate your company on such short notice,” the King continued, reaching the final block of stairs, smoke trailing in his wake.
Sol turned to face him as her court took spots beside her.
“We will be having a small dinner in the ballroom,” Gina continued as they stepped onto the foyer, directly in front of Sol. She didn’t have to look around to know everyone watched their interaction—the Crown Princess and the man she had to dethrone.
With a flick of her wrist, Samara’s Shadows led the way to the ballroom at the end of the right hallway, snaking between the guests to carve a path. “After that, we shall dance.”
Nina pulled her closer by her skirt, easing her out of the way from Semmena’s walk behind the Shadows.
But Sawyer stopped him.
Her cousin’s eyes simmered like embers as she crossed her arms over her chest, blocking the open path to the ballroom. Whispers erupted through the spectators like an uncontrolled fire, forcing Sol to clench her fists to keep from intervening.
Sawyer gave him a small smile, one full of challenge and defiance. “It is customary to enter Royal dinners by rank,” she said. “Which means Sol goes first.”
