Page 49 of Artemysia

“Obviously, there’s nothing I can’t master.” - Riev

H ow can someone feel so familiar and yet be so incomprehensible?

Riev is daggers and danger on the outside, but every so often, he surprises me with how much he understands and cares for me.

I failed to contain my emotions. They erupted from a deep, dark place I rarely let out, and he managed to navigate both our feelings at once. He made my heart feel…

Safer.

Did we just switch roles for a bit? Dear gods, that man is out to destroy me.

But now, I shift my focus to my next task.

Blend in at the ball and gather intel. Riev is right.

We need to know if the Syf lie or if North Kingdom hides a darker secret.

I can then decide if we should continue with our original mission to seek aid from the North.

If not, perhaps the Syf are potential allies.

If the attacks on South Kingdom can be prevented, I’ll stop at nothing to keep Stargazer and South Kingdom safe. That is where my loyalties lie.

Elodie chose wisely when she dressed me in this luxurious velvet traveling gown. I blend right in with the other noblewomen disembarking from their carriages.

The manor looms over us, menacing yet dreary, made worse by the eerie glow from the rows of frosted gas lamps on black iron posts that flicker along our path.

Fog rises from the East River, the same river that runs through Artemysia and South Kingdom. Here, the water snakes around the massive estate. I can’t see across the dark water at night, but I hear the constant hissing rush as it flows by.

I shiver. This place gives me the creeps.

Hauntingly beautiful string music plays from inside, perhaps from the ballroom.

From my crash course, I recognize it as one of North Kingdom’s traditional songs that’s paired with a specific dance. The Artemysian tutors spent hours that day making sure I got it right.

Riev beckons me to hold his hand as he guides me out of the carriage.

“Did the Syf teach you the choreography to this song too?” I ask. “The steps are more complicated than the ceremonial maneuvers we do at the Academy. Ivy wanted to lead, and she dropped me flat on my ass.”

He grabs me by the waist and spins me to him. “King Foss was a willing dance partner.”

“No way!” I sputter a laugh and follow his lead, moving with him and the music.

“You’re right. He made me observe another pair of Syf dancing.”

Riev’s entire body moves as if he’s danced this a hundred times.

“And you memorized it without actually trying it? How are you good at this already?”

He twirls me one more time, catching me in a dip before he comes to a standstill. He maintains a firm hand on the small of my back.

“Obviously, there’s nothing I can’t master.”

I scoff. “Except humility.”

He grins. “Stay close, my wife,” he hums into my ear, making my stomach tumble and my entire body heat.

“I need to change into my evening dress. You don’t have to accompany me—”

“A herd of wild elk couldn’t drag me away from you right now.”

“Can you guarantee you’d stay focused while I’m changing? In our bedroom? We’d both lose focus, my lord .”

“Our bedroom…” Riev growls, snatching me against him to kiss my throat so crudely that I’m afraid it will leave a mark. I gasp with a sudden intake of breath. He’s claiming me in front of the other guests, and I don’t hate it one bit.

“You’re already distracted,” I rasp, pressing into him, my body naturally drawn to his touch. “Maybe you should start mingling and poke around for information?” Sensible Delphine is back .

“I despise the idea of leaving your side,” he complains before mumbling something into my neck about not watching me undress for the sake of his sanity.

His mouth is in its natural frown as he pulls away, though his mood brightens at the sight of a server who greets us with a mirrored platter of rosy-pink cocktails in crystal flutes.

Our carriage clatters away from us, bouncing on the gravelly driveway.

“See you in the ballroom then, my lady.” Riev bows and heads for the entrance.

I know he mocks our situation. He is elegant anyway, and it’s hard not to stare as he walks away.

He disappears down the grandiose corridor toward the buzzing crowd lining up to enter the gold and black ballroom, fluted drink already in hand.

A crimson-uniformed valet lugs both my trunk and Riev’s bag, directing me down an endless hall that’s overly decorated with lush textiles and oil paintings of somber-looking royals. Black and gray flowers emitting a sultry sweet fragrance are stuffed into enormous gold vases.

He ushers me up a flight of wide stairs without a word.

The deep purple rug silences my steps, and every wall I pass is papered with textured, moody floral patterns.

Alarmingly large chandeliers of black crystal shards glimmer above me, appearing too heavy for the ornate ceilings from where they hang.

Reluctant to make polite conversation that might reveal that I’ve never been to the North Kingdom, I follow wordlessly, taking in my surroundings. It’s cold inside the manor, and the deep plums, blacks, and midnight blues of the décor add no warmth.

I pass other guests led by attendants and bow my head in greeting. They don’t seem to harbor any suspicions of me and smile back civilly after glancing at the brown ribbon on my arm declaring my status.

After another long hall, we climb up a second set of curved stairs, past a grand piano on a landing, and at last, I’m peering into a lavish bedroom.

At Stargazer Castle, I never had a chance to see much besides the war room, so I have no clue how this bedroom compares, but I’m having trouble imagining anything finer.

Heavy, jeweled-toned fabrics are spread over a massive four-poster bed of black wood topped with the thickest mattress I’ve ever seen. Velvet mustard-gold curtains hang from the windows and intricate brasswork trims the walls, lit by lotus flower sconces.

It’s too bad I’m not here to enjoy the room for the weekend. Maybe in another life.

The attendant is perhaps used to being ignored and sets up my trunk on a low stand.

We eye each other awkwardly. The Artemysian Syf seemed to think the customs and mannerisms of high society are similar in both North and South, so I assume he must be waiting for permission to leave. I offer a polite nod.

Instead of leaving, he stands by the door, gloved hands at his sides. “Is there something you require, Marchioness?” he asks coolly. He’s not young, but his ruddy, suntanned skin is at odds with his indoor valet position.

I don’t even know what else to ask for. A snack?

The carriage ride was long. “No, you may take your leave,” I say, emulating the words and tone I’ve heard from the high lords and ladies at the king’s court when I’m called to the castle at Stargazer, but adding the flair of the North Kingdom accent I was taught.

Elodie instructed me to change my dress upon arrival, so I turn away and open my trunk, pulling out the gown on top: a long, blood-red column dress.

The attendant clears his throat, and when I spin around in surprise that he’s still there, he shoots me a disdainful look and adjusts the top button of his jacket. He fidgets at the shoulders, as if his stiff uniform bothers him.

What does he want?

I remember a small coin purse I was given back in Artemysia as part of my costume and pat around my cloak for it. Unsnapping the brass clasp, I fish out a medium-sized silver coin and hand it to him. I try not to look too confused and offer a smile.

He cringes, as if offended. “Forgive me, High Lady. You don’t seem familiar with manor customs.”

Uh oh, I’ve already messed up . Not blending in as I’m supposed to.

Okay, think. I can save this. The Syf’s crash course on mannerisms and customs prepared me, but even a small mistake such as tipping incorrectly will now give me away. Change of strategy. I decide to be more honest.

Regaining my composure, I toss my hands up and shrug. “You’re right. I’m completely lost. I married into this pompous position and have no idea how high society works. I’m not fit to be a marchioness.”

The brown-haired servant softens by a hair, and I sense kindness in him. “I wasn’t asking for coin. I’m Gregory, and I’m to wait and chaperone you to the ballroom.”

“Well, thank you for helping me with my luggage. It was ridiculous that I was made to pack so much, and I’m sorry you had to carry it all. I can find my way back downstairs. I’m sure you have better things to do with your time, though I could use your pointers on fitting in here.”

He studies me for a moment. “It’s not a choice. All guests are chaperoned. But you’re the first tonight to thank me for anything.”

“That kind of crowd, huh? It’s not my first choice to be here, to be frank.”

“Neither is it mine,” he grumbles.

“Oh? What would you rather be doing?” I ask out of curiosity.

“Cards. Sailing the river. My wife. Nothing,” he mutters almost inaudibly before correcting himself. “Never mind.”

Did he just say he would rather be doing his wife? Gregory has a sense of humor then.

“But it’s mandatory that I escort you. Security measures,” he says, catching himself.

Security measures? Against Syf? The Artemysians mentioned their spies were hard-pressed to find information about what North Kingdom knew about Syf.

I tread carefully with my next words and pull up my gown to below my right knee.

“I’m safe with this on me.” I tap the blade. “Mostly because I know how to use it. I’m not noble-born, remember…”

Might as well let my true colors shine.

His eyes round at the sight of Ivy’s ankle holster strapped to my lower leg.

“That won’t stop the threat,” he says calmly, promptly recovering from his surprise.

Aha! Threat? They have a Syf problem here too? I use this opportunity to fish for more information. Are we on the same side?

“No, it won’t, but it’ll give me a fighting chance. Have there been any sightings of Syf near the prince’s manor recently? We don’t get up-to-date news in the outer reaches where I’m from.”

“I’m supposed to confiscate weapons.” He unfurls a palm to collect my blade, completely ignoring my question.

“You can try, but my non-noble side knows my dagger pierces human skin as smoothly as Syf flesh.” I grin, so my words are equally a joke and a threat.

“In fact, it’s not even my dagger. I pulled it off a dead man on my way here.

Syf attack, by the looks of it.” As she’d strapped it on me, Ivy casually mentioned she’d found her sharpest dagger in the heart of a dead, decapitated Syf, so it’s not a total lie.

My red-in-the-face attendant loses patience. Perhaps I’ve offended him. His softer accent changes, becoming coarser as his words spill out, emphasizing most of his vowels as long A’s.

“I’m not normally assigned to this idiotic butlering job.

I’m a high guard, for god’s sake, demoted for the weekend.

I could be training, or else I’m senior enough to get weekends off.

Instead, I’m here. The security measures aren’t for Syf.

They’re to prevent you guests from prying around the prince’s estate,” he scolds me.

I’ve exasperated him enough that he gives me the information I need.

“And why on earth would I pry? I was invited here to attend the prince’s coronation.” Now that I’ve got him talking, I feel bolder and use my captain’s voice .

“Don’t pretend you’re not here, as other guests are, in pursuit of secrets hidden in the manor.

If not you, then your husband, certainly.

The rumors abound. How the current king retains his power over his people.

Many of the nobles here tonight believe his son should be replaced, and a stronger head of state should take the throne.

But in order to do that, they’re desperate to figure out how the king is controlling the Syf. ”

There it is.

“I don’t want to control the Syf.”

“Who wouldn’t want to?” He arches both brows, leveling me with a probing look. “For he who controls the Syf has an endlessly powerful army. Even you must know that.”

My blood suddenly runs ice cold.

Gregory goes on. “Pardon my language. But shit will go down this weekend, Marchioness, and I’m here to prevent it.”