“Twelve days is enough,” I say, thinking of the five days till the ball. “More than enough.”
“Even still, I recommend you keep to thresholds and half-light,” she continues, all craft and no pity. “The palace guards aren’t so smart as to see through my magic, but the way you walk—the way you hold yourself—sticks out like a sore thumb. Four doors down there is a tailor. His name is Flae Sprig—he might know who Mrath is. Use her name. Get a costume for the masquerade, ask him to help you stick out less.”
I nod and adjust the weight of my cleaver under the cloak. The glamour shivers once with the motion, then stills, obedient to my breath.
“Now is the time for you to leave.”
She unlatches the door. The lane outside is a throat of cold, the city’s glow a distant pulse. She pauses, eyeing the rigid set of my jaw. “That emptiness you feel right now won’t kill you, troll. But it will make you clumsy. Don’t let it.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.” Her gaze flicks to the faint, invisible place over my heart where my Fuegorra sings for me alone. “When your time runs out, that’s it. Don’t come back.”
I pull the hood low and step out. The air feels thinner. I keep one hand at my chest. Somewhere beyond the mirrored hill, Arlet is alive. Hurt, but alive. That is enough to move.
I head east, where the palace spears the sky and the spires catch the moon. The glamour is almost detectable on my skin, like a sheer blanket. It should hold. I pray it holds.
Soon, I will light a blazing fire on those ramparts to signal for Seraph to retrieve us.
“I’m coming,” I murmur. “Please forgive me when I do.”
Without another word, I leave this place to find the tailor.
Chapter 21
ARLET
The Day of the Formal Presentation
The night begins with me being brought to the lower city, that I might be transferred to a platform and paraded through the main avenue. A host of guards surrounds the carriage, and Thorne and my ladies-in-waiting sit in the coach with me.
As we make our way to the starting point, I am impressed by the lights and banners strung up between the streets. I see elven citizens dressed in a wide array of costumes. Foxes, dear, elves, and important figures I don’t recognize.
My gown is fawn-brown silk dusted with pale spots at the hem, the neckline modest by their standards, the back cut to reveal the slope of my narrow shoulders. They decided this would make me look “gentler.”
The mask I’d been fitted for several times sits on the top half of my face. It does bear a striking resemblance to a doe’s face, though one artfully rendered in gilt and white. It has painted lashes and a demure nose. The ribbon bites behind my ears.
It’s beautiful, but a reminder of something awful. Like everything else in this place.
They have turned the palace into a forest, and me into a small,shallow shell of the woman I once was. Every day, I require more sleep. Even now, I feel tired and frail.
Being useless stings, Cursed One whispers.You said that not too long ago, but I can’t help wondering if you still feel it—or if they’ve beaten you down to a pulp so that every nerve ending connects together. Do you feel anything anymore, Red?
I ignore her voice.
Then the carriage stops. Thorne exits first, then Merlina, Eslina, and Kiala. Finally, it is my turn. The guards form a wall around me as I step out of the carriage, and I am guided to the gilded platform, covered in flower arrangements.
And then, I am sent off through the city. The roar of applause and delight drones on as I move back to the palace. I smile. I wave.
The word “consort” echoes in my skull, shouted in so many phrases I feel I might burst.
Everything passes in a blur—the buildings and people. I can’t say how long it takes for us to make it through the whole city, but I recognize the way to the palace immediately.
We stop in front of the main entrance, and I am led into the marvelous spectacle. Silk banners droop from the rafters in long, moss-green falls, painted with stags whose antlers stretch up to the moon and wolves whose teeth shine like pearls of light. The floor is scattered with crushed mint and marjoram so that each step releases their scent into the air.
Lanterns hang like low stars. Between them, the hall glitters with candlefire and polished gold.
At last, we arrive at the place where I am to make my entrance. There is a webbed screen in front of us, obscuring me from view. But I can see the grand hall and all the hundreds of visitors waiting for me to be presented to Arion.