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The magic seemed to sense the lie, thickening in the air around her. Across the table, she saw Wilder stiffen, his silver gaze darting to her.

Thea froze. Was it her magic doing that? Or King Artos’? Or had Jasira come into her own power after all? It was only after a long silence that she realised the princess hadn’t actually answered her question.

But before she could say anything else, the food was served.

Tray after tray of incredible fare was brought out by dozens of servants, each dish more lavish than the last. Wine was poured, and as Thea raised her own goblet to her lips, she noticed that King Artos now had two cupbearers in his employ.

She and the princess ate in comfortable silence, watching as the debauchery of the nobles unfolded around them. Thea couldn’t help but steal glimpses across the table at Wilder, who was doing his best not to engage in any of the conversations around him. He masked his discomfort well, potentially with the aid of the wine in his hand, but Thea could tell he would rather be anywhere else. She’d come to learn his little tells around others. He felt her attention and caught her eye, giving her abandoned plate a pointed look.

Thea suppressed a smile. Ever since he’d returned to Thezmarr, his insistence on her eating well had driven her to near madness. But there was also something endearing about it, so she made a point of piercing numerous greens with her fork and forcing them down.

While he didn’t smile, there was that hint of a dimple tugging at his cheek before he looked away.

The hall was filled with sounds of merriment: nobles chatting, glasses chiming with various toasts and a pair of fiddlers elevated on a nearby dais. Thea did a double take, recognising them from her brief stint at the Laughing Fox tavern with Cal and Kipp. The sight of the musicians sent a pang of regret through her. She missed her friends.

Thea let the melody sweep her away for a moment, the pair of fiddles building in unison to a powerful crescendo.

‘Do you enjoy their music?’ Princess Jasira asked, nodding to the fiddlers. ‘They’re quite well known across the realms.’

Thea watched them, realising she’d been swaying to the music. Flushing, she stilled. ‘Yes… Their music is beautiful. Do they have a name?’

Jasira shrugged. ‘I can’t recall… My father has people who manage these things, you see. But I believe they’re brothers.’

The men looked alike, to be sure. ‘Where do they hail from? Do you know?’

The princess looked distant for a moment. ‘Far away from this place.’

Thea wondered if it was a note of yearning she detected in Jasira’s voice, but her attention was drawn across the table, to where the king had addressed Wilder.

‘Did you glean any further information from our prisoners, Warsword Hawthorne?’ King Artos asked, sipping at his wine.

‘None that your men hadn’t already gathered, sire,’ Wilder replied blandly. ‘I’m afraid the monsters didn’t live through my interrogation.’

Thea’s blood went cold. She was suddenly aware of the fact that the hands that had wrung such pleasure from her had wrought such pain on others only hours before.

‘Good,’ the king said. ‘Two fewer creatures of evil in these realms.’

‘I share the same sentiment, Your Majesty.’

King Artos raised his glass to the Warsword and drank deeply. When he was done, he dabbed the corner of his mouth with a linen serviette and turned away, carrying on a conversation about the latest social season as though he hadn’t just approved of death by torture.

All around them, the nobles were getting drunker. Plates and cutlery were cleared and Thea felt herself drawn back to the melody drifting towards them. It seemed to coax out her magic, Artos’ royal magic too. The air was thick with it, and Thea could feel her own power surging at her fingertips.

Beside her, Jasira fidgeted. She wondered if it affected the princess as well.

In between songs, a herald announced that the ballroom was now open, and the throngs of nobles were directed through grand double doors to the far side of the Great Hall.

‘Now would be the time to escape, if you’re so inclined,’ Princess Jasira murmured, gathering her layered skirts in her hands and eyeing another exit.

But the music drifting in from the next room fascinated Thea, and she found herself taking a step towards the doors the herald had indicated. ‘I’ve never been to a ball,’ she told the princess.And I doubt I’ll ever get the opportunity again, she added mentally.

The princess laughed. ‘This isn’t a ball, but my father would be pleased to hear you’re impressed. He puts a lot of effort into these things.’ Jasira herself sounded anything but impressed. ‘I’ll bid you goodnight, then, Thea. Enjoy the dancing.’

And before Thea could reply, the princess slipped away.

In the flurry of movement, Thea had lost sight of Wilder too, so she headed to the ballroom alone, swept up in the crowd of jewels, silk dresses and fine tunics. In the next room, the fiddlers had been joined by other musicians, forming a seven-piece band that graced a stage at the front.

As Thea moved through the nobles, she realised that many of them were staring at her, others giving her a wide berth. At first she met their gazes in question, but after several men bowed their heads in reverence to her, she realised: they knew who she was. Not a lost heir of Delmira, not a storm wielder, but…