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Kaelis doesn’t meet my eyes. “Unfortunately so.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It’s clear he’s not keen on the day. But I can’t help the slightest ache at the idea that he’d kept something like this from me. “It’s something that I should know as your blushing bride.”

“You’re right.” He sighs heavily. “I simply loathe the day is all. The court whispers how my being born on the longest night of the year is further proof of being void-born.” He sounds so dejected that I feel guilty for ever questioning if he could be.

“Ignore them.” I slide my hand into his. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned this year, it’s that rumors take lives of their own.”

Kaelis’s voice drops to barely more than a murmur. “The day also reminds me of my mother.”

He’s not talking about the current queen of Oricalis. My stomach knots. I stroke his thumb with mine. The movement draws his attention to me and, for a breath, we’re the only ones in the room.

“I’ll make sure to move the topic along, then. Should it come up again,” I say softly.

“Thank you.” He means it. I can tell by the easing of the furrow in his brow. His shoulders relaxing.

It feels better than it should to help him.

I’m presented to the High Lady of Clan Magician next—a woman with a sharp gaze and sharper wit. I find I quite enjoy her company. But I have precious little time to savor it before we move along once more. Only two others bring up his birthday and I deftly maneuver around it.

Eventually, I find myself in front of Moreus Ventall, High Lord of Clan Tower.

Unlike Lord Ixil, he’s alone. His daughters are nowhere to be seen, despite most of the other high nobles having brought some, or all, of their immediate families.

The things Alor has said about her family—specifically her father—return to me.

I wonder if she was even invited to come.

Or if she was relegated to staying at home.

Just as people could see blatant similarities between Arina and me and our mother, Moreus is obviously Alor and Emilia’s sire.

His hair is an identical shade to theirs, perfectly coiffed and held in place away from his face.

His eyes are the honey brown of Alor’s, but with the sharp gaze of Emilia’s.

He’s a bit tanner than either of them in a way that suggests he spends a great deal of time in the sun.

His appearance has clearly been honed to exude severity, as there’s something about his very presence that feels like a threat.

“High Lord Ventall, a pleasure as always.” Kaelis’s tone is smooth, polite, and perfectly unreadable in how trained it is to sound innocuous. An odd approach to take with the man responsible for supplying the crown with their Stellis. I would’ve thought there’d be a warmer rapport between them.

“Prince Kaelis,” he says somewhat briskly, turning from his previous conversation. His eyes dart to me and widen slightly. He must recognize me from All Coins Day as the one who saved Alor. “High Lady Redwin.”

My name hovers in the air. Formal, yet soft. As if he wants to thank me for saving his daughter but can’t bring himself to. I offer him a gentle smile and a slight dip of my chin as if to say, You’re welcome.

“Still just Lady Redwin,” Kaelis corrects with an almost pitying smile. “Though it’s our hope that when my father accepts her, her status will be solidified…should the clans also be amenable to healing old wounds.”

“Yes…” The High Lord’s attention has yet to leave me. “You are common-born, correct?”

“I’m honored you know of my lineage.” I smile politely.

“Quite lucky that the prince found you out of all the common-born women out there. The odds are…unlikely.” His tone is impossible to read, so I’m left to assume there’s doubt or suspicion there.

Clan Tower is responsible for defending the crown.

His eyes narrow slightly. “Especially given that, according to the best of our records, the full bloodline of Clan Hermit had been eradicated in a single, defining act.”

Suspicion indeed.

“Your records are not always perfect.” Kaelis’s words are frigid. If there are two things that I know my prince doesn’t appreciate, they are being questioned and the mere mention of Clan Hermit.

“But they so often are.” The way High Lord Ventall looks at Kaelis makes me think of two birds of prey, feathers puffed, talons ready to strike. “I should like to inspect the evidence you found that verifies her lineage.”

“I think you can take my word for it.” Kaelis attempts to dismiss him. And fails.

“It’s the duty of Clan Tower to protect the crown. I’m merely doing my job.” He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His stare is still as hard as steel at my throat. “Especially with the rumors of an escapee from Halazar earlier this year.”

“I believe my father said there wasn’t one?” Kaelis arches a dark brow.

“Officially, no.” Moreus shrugs slightly. “But one can never be too careful. There’s always a nugget of truth in every rumor, don’t you think, Lady Redwin?”

“Perhaps.” I try to give away nothing.

“Wouldn’t want anyone linking the rumors together, since it’s quite an amusing coincidence that you showed up around the same time.”

My palms are sweating now. He knows. He must. Why else would he be asking such pointed questions? Fuck, Ravin. I’m sure this is the firstborn prince’s doing.

“If you have a point to make, High Lord Ventall, I suggest you get to it quickly.” Kaelis’s razor-sharp words are matched by a murderous glint in his eyes. His hand lands on the small of my back, featherlight yet stronger than armor.

Moreus opens his mouth to speak again but promptly shuts it when the lights of the room dim dramatically.

Every candle on the chandeliers magically snuffs out all at once, guiding our attention to the far end of the room.

King Naethor Oricalis stands atop a raised platform, three steps above the rest of us.

The lighting, the platform, his opulent garb, and his sheer presence are enthralling.

Wordlessly, he holds up a tarot card. I catch a glint of silver.

My eyes widen, and I am nearly blinded by the flash of fire that explodes from the card.

The flames turn cold and ice blue and then become swirling water.

Wind sweeps through the crowd, tangling skirts and drawing gasps from both lords and ladies.

Light and shadow condense with the crackle of elements in Oricalis’s fist as it closes around a magnificent scepter that writhes with living vines, burns with fire at one end, and emits frost at the other.

“Welcome, high nobles of my court, to the winter festivities.” Naethor holds out his other hand, his voice carrying across the large room.

“May your readings hold fortune, your cups be full, and your hearts find new allies among your fellow courtiers. May your years ahead be as balanced as the elements of the four suits. Dinner will be served within the hour.”

The king steps back, and the lights across the room flicker to life again to the tune of respectful applause. While we were distracted, Lord Ventall appears to have stepped away. His absence allows me to focus on the question now burning on my tongue.

“How?” I whisper, looking to Kaelis. “I know of cards that can mend or modify objects. Cards that can conjure illusions. But I felt the heat and the wind.” The scepter is passed on to a servant and looks as real as anything else.

“The Magician enables someone to craft something from nothing by calling upon the four elements.”

“I thought only a Major Arcana could use a Major card?”

“The Hierophant is why. That card must be cast by a Major, but it can give an Arcanist the ability to use another Major Arcana once. Then the blessing fades, and it must be given again,” Kaelis explains.

It jars something in my memory of what Myrion said when I first arrived at the Sanctum of the Majors.

“Let me guess, the Hierophant is kept here in the royal court?”

“How did you know?” He smirks. But, without warning, Kaelis’s eyes shift and his expression falls. Forehead creasing. “Clara, I need to step away a moment.”

“What is it?” I ask. “Does it have to do with Ventall and his suspicions?”

“Perhaps.” Kaelis is already moving away.

“Let me help.”

“Not this time.” He grabs my hand, silencing me with a light squeeze before I can object. “I’ll be right back.” There’s urgency to his every movement.

“We’re supposed to be…” My protest fades as he disappears into the crowd. “Together.”

Curious and more than a little annoyed, I try to follow him through the crowd of nobles, weaving through the skirts and coattails to see if I can figure out just where—or who—he’s heading toward.

I lose him as people continue to mingle, blocking my view.

I think I see him stepping aside with a man dressed in the colors of Clan Moon… Glavstone?

The crowd closes around them. I try to push through, but by the time I manage to emerge, they’re gone once more.

Just as I’m cursing under my breath for losing them, I spy Ravin pulling Silas through a side door with a wary scan of the room, clearly looking for any who might be watching.

Their heads are bent in what seems to be intense conversation.

That’s too suspicious not to explore…right? I give one last sweep for Kaelis but come up with nothing. Finding out what Silas and Ravin are up to is better than standing around waiting for Kaelis to reappear.

The men step through the door, attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible, and I trail behind them. I strain to hear their conversation over the music, but it quickly fades, and so I slip through the door myself. Their footsteps echo from down the hall, whispered words woven through them.

From a distance, I hear their voices through a door. Heart pounding, I creep up to it.

“Ravin, I’ve told you everything I know.” Silas’s voice is tense.

“I need more, Silas. If she is leaving Kaelis’s watchful gaze…”