Reign Of Shadows: Rise Of Fire Part 8

I doubted King Tebald permitted anyone inside the palace who wasn't perceived as important, and that most certainly wasn't me. I was only here because of my a.s.sociation with Fowler. My newness aside, I was sure little care would be given me. Everyone would be in a dither over Fowler's arrival-even if he wasn't present for the meal. He was the prince of Relhok, after all, and betrothed to Princess Maris.

Elegant slippers and fine boots shuffled over the hard stone surface of the floor. There were too many bodies to count and that made me jumpy, as though my skin were stretched too tight over my bones. I inhaled the delicious aroma of food I couldn't even begin to identify. My stomach rumbled. At the far end of the great hall, an enormous fire burned and crackled. Several hounds lounged in front of it, their panting breaths and pungent, baking fur eddying around me, flaring my nostrils.

I pushed a hand against my bodice self-consciously and stuck close to Princess Maris, unwilling to be left alone in this room full of strangers. They already saw too much of me in all this glaring light, in this dress with its low-cut bodice. I would not have them see anything more about me.

Following close behind Maris, I sucked in a breath, trying to pick out all the sounds over the band of musicians playing in the corner. No easy task.

A bell pealed loudly over the jumble of noise.

"That's the signal. It's time to take our seats. You're over here."

I cleared my throat. "Which seat?"

I was grateful to feel her hand close around mine. She had the softest hands, like a child's. "You can sit next to Gandal. He's the royal physician's son. He has very fine eyes." Her tone lowered suggestively.

I perked up a little at this. Not because of his fine eyes-the part about him being the physician's son. Perhaps he would have news of Fowler? It wouldn't hurt to inquire. The sooner Fowler's well-being was established, the sooner I could abandon this place that made me feel dizzy and so out of sorts. "Thank you."

I was ushered onto a bench. Princess Maris made the introductions and then slipped away, moving to the head table that was elevated upon a dais-where the important people dined. The distance between that table and me told me how low I ranked on the social hierarchy.

I tracked Maris's progress, marking the soft tread of her footsteps ringing hollowly up the wood steps and across the raised platform. Once she settled into a chair, I turned my attention to those around me, listening carefully over the music to all the voices, marking each individual and trying to follow the anecdotes swirling on the air like a tangle of threads in the cavernous echoing s.p.a.ce.

One woman complained because she hadn't been able to find her hand mirror and suspected her maid, that "lazy, shiftless girl," had taken it. The gentleman across from her a.s.sured her that a mirror wasn't necessary, as she looked ravishing. The lady laughed coyly and I knotted my hands in my lap, wondering at this place and these shallow people who acted as if there were no hungry monsters at the gates.

It was a large table, seating at least fifty, maybe more. I wasn't certain of the exact number, and that was something that troubled me. I was blind but had never felt impaired, never lost or floundering. Until now. Multiple conversations rolled on all around me. I focused on keeping track of them, even when it made my head hurt.

Outside there was a rhythm, a cadence in the soft chirps of insects, the yips of giant bats, the ebb and flow of wind through dying trees. And Them, the dwellers, sending out their eerie calls. They could be relied upon, too. In here there was only the unknown, the machinations of people my gut told me not to trust.

After the initial introduction with Gandal, we exchanged a few pleasantries before he ignored me in favor of the lady to his right. The princess was wrong. I wasn't nearly as appealing as she proclaimed. My conversational skills were perhaps even worse than I'd thought. Or it was simply that I was unimportant-a n.o.body even for the son of a physician.

I folded my clammy hands together in my lap. The aroma of well-seasoned meat was more p.r.o.nounced than ever, and my mouth watered. I had never smelled so much food. Surely we would eat soon.

"I almost did not recognize you."

I started at the warm voice sliding near my ear. A voice that I instantly recognized. I should have heard him coming. My pulse sputtered in alarm at my throat. This place was ruining me, eliminating my edge. Before I knew it, if I wasn't careful, I would be as weak as all of them.

"It's astounding what a little soap can do, Prince Chasan," I rejoined, rubbing at the goose b.u.mps that puckered the skin of my arm.

He chuckled. "Indeed. Do I not smell better, too?"

I opened my mouth and shut it, stopping myself from pointing out that he had not smelled foul to begin with. "I can't claim to have a strong sense of smell, Your Highness," I lied.

"No?" His body sank down on the bench to my left and I started a little, concerned that he meant to stay beside me. I didn't want his attention. I wanted him gone.

I wanted to be gone.

I felt Gandal at my right lean forward, his clothes rustling on his seat as he anxiously peered around me at the prince. "Greetings, Your Highness; good evening to you," Gandal said.

The prince ignored him and continued a.s.sessing me. I didn't have to see to know. I felt his stare like a breathing, living thing working its way over my face and down my body. I resisted the urge to lift a hand to shield my face.

"You have the most extraordinary eyes, Luna." I tensed at the compliment.

"Th-Thank you," I stammered, motioning toward the dais. "Are you not expected to sit there?" Perla and Sivo had regaled me with enough of my parents' life before the eclipse for me to know rudimentary household protocol.

"I am quite content here." The prince leaned back, his weight creaking the wooden bench as he settled his palms along the edge.

Heat burned my cheeks. I could feel the unsubtle glances from others.

I let his words sink in, turning them over, wondering if there was a double meaning there. I couldn't decide. My anxiety only grew as he continued to stare at me. I lowered my head, hoping that he would take the action as shyness. I didn't want to face him. Not this close. Not in this brightly lit room. I might give myself away.

"Can you not look me in the face?" he queried. "Have I said something to offend you?"

"No." I shook my head. "This place is . . . different. I can't relax. Any moment I feel as though dwellers will storm the hall. I know your defenses are impregnable-"

"Nothing is impregnable."

"Not very comforting as I sit here without a weapon and wearing a dress that would hamper my movements should I need to run."

"You can always use your cutlery."

The idea of defending myself with spoon and fork almost made me smile.

"Ah, I see I've amused you," he added.

His words killed my almost smile. "Not at all."

A deep thumping struck the floor several times, a signal that reverberated through the room. The musicians ceased to play. A hush fell over the crowd. No one stirred. Even the smelly hounds near the great hearth stopped swishing their tails.

Looking up, I leaned slightly to the left, asking the prince, "What is that?"

"They're heralding my father's arrival."

King Tebald entered the room. I heard the whisper of robes over the floor as he cut a path toward the dais, a small retinue following him.

Suddenly he stopped before us. "Chasan, what are you doing sitting here?"

The prince rose to his feet. "I thought I would sit here tonight, Father, and visit with our new guest."

At this, low murmurs broke out through the room. My cheeks heated; I knew this was a breach in etiquette.

"Guest?" Tebald said blankly, as though he had no memory of visitors, much less me.

"Yes, Father. You recall the prince of Relhok's companion." There was no response, and even Chasan sounded uncertain as he added, "Luna."

"You're the girl from today." There was a touch of wonder in his voice.

"Yes, Your Highness." I self-consciously brushed a hand over my hair near my ear. Clearly I had undergone a transformation.

"Stand," he commanded.

The bench was pulled out so quickly I nearly fell. I'd almost forgotten the existence of the king's guards. s.a.d.i.s.ts. Apparently they were never far.

The prince caught my arm, steadying me while turning me to face his father, but he said nothing. I'd almost prefer to hear his arrogant tone right then. In that moment, I realized the prince did not frighten me nearly as much as his father did.

The king stepped forward. No one else moved or spoke, making it simple to mark him in the now deathly silent hall. He held total dominion, and that unnerved me. He could do whatever he wanted and everyone else would just sit back and watch no matter how they felt about it.

"Turn around."

I hesitated a beat too long because the guard stepped forward again, grasping my arm and tugging me in a small circle. The king was so close. I could hear the puff of his breath.

"Father?" Chasan voiced.

"It cannot be," the king muttered so quietly I knew he was talking more to himself than anyone else. Wariness crept over me. My pulse hiccuped at my neck, fighting to break free from my skin.

Chasan spoke beside me. "What? What is it, Father?"

"You are the very image of her," Tebald whispered. His fingers grazed my cheek and I flinched.

"Who, Father?"

My heart dropped to my feet. Before he said anything I was already beginning to suspect that he knew. Perla's many words came back to me. She had told me stories of my parents, and I had always hung on every word.

Your mother had many suitors. n.o.bles from all over the land wanted to marry her. Princes and kings . . . but she chose your father.

A woman like that, my mother, would be memorable.

"Avelot."

At the hushed sound of my mother's name, I lifted my chin high.

"The late queen of Relhok?" Chasan finally asked, his voice rife with bewilderment.

"Yes. This girl is identical to her. The mirror image. That face. Those eyes. Everything about her. The curve of her lips."

My hand drifted, touching my mouth. Perla had made similar remarks, and I always thought her merely embellishing, or trying to forge a connection in my mind for the mother I would never know.

"Father, the king and queen died at the start of the eclipse. As did so many."

Those words woke and shook me from a lifelong slumber. No. My parents did not die at the hands of dwellers. I could have understood that. Not the betrayal. Not their slaughter at the behest of someone they trusted. Anger that I thought beyond me after all these years burned like a fever through me.

"If this is not her, then it's her child. The one she was carrying at the time of the eclipse. She would be of a like age," the king intoned. "The child must have survived, and this is she."

I dragged in a shuddery breath, astonished at how accurately he had deduced the truth.

"That's not possible," the prince said.

"It is possible. I know what I see before me." King Tebald's gaze roamed over me, and I felt his absolute certainty. He knew. I could deny it. I could let his son continue to tell him he was wrong. But he knew.

"The queen did not survive the dweller uprising on Relhok City. She never gave birth." Prince Chasan spoke in a coaxing tone, as though his father were feeble-minded. He wasn't even addressing me and yet his words. .h.i.t a nerve. My last frayed nerve.

I couldn't hold silent. Not with fresh outrage pumping through me. And did it really matter? There was no hiding the truth anymore. The king knew.

"No," I growled, straining forward as that last nerve snapped free. "Dwellers did not kill my mother. Or my father. My parents were killed at the hand of the royal chancellor, the false king who now sits on the throne of Relhok."

A long pause followed my outburst before voices erupted all around me. My bravado fled in the volley of sound. The din was overwhelming and made me cringe and shrink into myself.

The prince grabbed my elbow, his grip once again hard, as it had been on the Outside. He swung me to face him. "Luna, what the h.e.l.l are you-"

A steady clapping thundered through the room, close and deep and resounding. "I knew it! Splendid. Brilliant!" Tebald cheered. The buzz of voices ebbed at the king's applause. "The true heir to the kingdom of Relhok stands before us."

Cold washed through me. My secret was out. Suddenly the light around me felt brighter, hotter on my skin. Sounds were more jarring, painful to my ears, the smells more overwhelming.

I should have convinced him he was mistaken and there was no connection between the late queen and me. It didn't matter how convinced he was; I should have tried to deny the truth.

"Luna?" It was Chasan's voice, hard and questioning, full of menace.

I gave myself a swift mental shake. It would have only been a delay to the inevitable. The moment I arrived in Ainswind, it was simply a matter of time before I was exposed.

There was no going back now.

ELEVEN.

Luna

I WAS LED to the dais at the far end of the room and seated to the right of the king as his honored guest-a fact that he declared loudly and effusively to all in the great hall. The initial excitement faded away, but I was far from forgotten. The prince was at my other side and Maris was close, to her father's left. I sat stiffly, hands clutched in my lap in an attempt to still their shaking.

Fortunately, I was given something to do when the food arrived. I ate with gusto, falling on the food like I had never eaten before. Apparently the biscuits had not been enough to tide me over. I stopped short of moaning, overcome at the taste and sheer abundance of it all.

It also didn't hurt that eating saved me from conversation. Chatter flowed around me, and I did my best to answer the king between bites of food and sips of a drink that made my head feel warm and fuzzy. As with the food I tasted, the drink was like nothing I had ever experienced, and I imbibed freely, licking the exotic juice from my lips, not wanting one drop lost.

At one point a warm hand covered my own as I reached for my goblet again. "Have a care, princess. Those bigger and stronger than you have lost their heads over too much of this stuff."

I did not miss the emphasis the prince placed on the word princess. As though it were something loathsome and dirty on his tongue. Why should he resent the truth of my ident.i.ty? It was almost as though he preferred me before, when I was just a peasant to him.

And that's when I sensed it. I felt their stares. Not all of them were delighted with my rise from the dead. Their resentment and dislike were palpable.

I tugged free, eager to be rid of the sensation of the prince's hand smothering mine. Lifting my goblet back to my lips, I took a greedy gulp and sighed, making the sound deliberately loud. "You don't know me, Your Highness." Nor do you have any inkling of the strength that lies in me . . . what I'm capable of . . .