Page 2 of Her Blind Deception (The Dark Reflection #2)

Chapter Two

T he halls were decorated with ribbons of yellow and gold, draping in heavy loops and plaits from the ceiling. They served two purposes: to honour Aether with his traditional yellow, and to attract wreaths of smoke to keep the air from getting suffocating. Aetherdi commemorated Aether’s rise back into the sky following his fall, and we burned incense to symbolise that rise. During Aetherdi in the Trough, the smoke of constant incense burning was made less suffocating by throwing open every window and door in a house, which doubled as a way of welcoming in the new year. But in the palace, there was no need. The smoke from the incense was absorbed into the ribbons, attracted by the magic woven into the fabric. As I passed beneath them, I wondered how many gallons of blood had been drawn from the creatures in the dungeon of Misarnee Keep just so we wouldn’t have to be inconvenienced by a breeze.

Whenever I passed a window, I caught sight of pinpricks of flame in the dark. In the palace gardens, and all over the city, huge bonfires raged, fed with bundles of scented sandalwood and yarrow, and wicker icons of the seven sacred animals that burst into showers of sparks when they hit the flames. In the swampy woods behind the Winking Nymph, there would be no sandalwood and rain of magic. We had used the bonfires to burn mouldy sheets, broken furniture and other waste. I was glad not to be there, near those woods, with a bonfire of flames to mock me. Fire didn’t make me think of new beginnings, only of singed hair and pain and fear.

My attendants trotted along behind me, fans fluttering, whispering to one another. My guests were already gathered and as I was announced, they all turned to watch me enter. I smiled brilliantly at everyone whose eyes I met, and graciously thanked them all for coming to join me on this holiday, especially considering the circumstances. When one of my ladies offered me wine, I rejected it in exchange for water. I would keep my wits sharp, my words pleasing, as I schmoozed every single member of the council and their wives. Butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth tonight. I would be charming, humble, gracious. I would be forlorn at the absence of the kingdom’s princess, open to guidance and advice, interested in every ridiculous theory about her whereabouts that they fed me.

I moved about the room, greeting every guest personally, naming children and estates Leela whispered in my ear, complimenting and flattering and keeping all of my more tempestuous thoughts to myself. This was going to be a success.

And then I caught sight of Draven leaning against a wall, watching me.

And just like that, all my plans collapsed, revealing themselves to be made of little more than paper and smoke .

At first, I tried to ignore him. Throwing him out would only draw attention to him, but it was hardly going to be an exciting party, so perhaps if I didn’t react to him, he would get bored and leave. But I was constantly aware of where he was in the room, of the way he prowled the edges, his eyes always on me. If he vanished from sight, I reacted with something close to panic until he appeared again. Who knew what he might get up to if I didn’t watch him closely? And then he started talking to people, and I realised trying to ignore him was impossible. He was making it impossible.

‘Go back to your room,’ I hissed as I approached him, trying to give him a little shove towards the door.

He reached out and snatched a glass of champagne from a passing server, somehow manoeuvring his way behind me at the same time. ‘Relax, Rhiandra. Try to enjoy yourself.’ He caught my hand and tugged, spinning me into him until my drink was sloshing dangerously and I was looking up into eyes creased with trouble. I shook him off, gaze quickly darting about to see who had caught sight of us standing so closely. There were several people looking our way with curiosity or suspicion. And the Grand Paptich was headed towards us.

‘Please, for the love of Madeia, just leave. This situation is difficult enough to manage without you whipping it into a frenzy.’ I was trying not to beg, but I was getting dangerously close to it.

‘Can’t do that, my dear. I want you where I can see you.’ Reaching out, he clinked his glass against mine. ‘To a long and happy marriage.’

I massaged the space between my brows, quickly reassessing my priorities. I had wanted to focus on painting myself as a more sympathetic figure, as a grieving widow and a worried stepmother determined to find out what happened to her stepdaughter. Brimordia had lost both its king and princess since I’d entered the palace, and I was the one who had benefitted the most. People were suspicious of me. But I was low born, a woman, and a whore to boot. No one wanted to believe I was crafty enough to have orchestrated any of it, and that was my biggest advantage.

But Draven was a liability. I had no idea how he would act in company. I had no idea what his motivation was in being here. I had no idea whether his game would end in building me up or tearing me down. Was he an enemy or an ally?

‘Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself. Don’t forget that you have as much to lose as me if you do anything stupid,’ I said through a gritted smile as I turned to greet the paptich.

‘Your faith in me is as flattering as ever,’ Draven murmured from close behind me, raising the hair on the back of my neck before he drew away and went off to do whatever nefarious things he did in large gatherings of people.

‘Your Royal Highness,’ Paptich Milton said as he approached and I forced my focus onto the old priest. He looked unusually haggard.

‘Are you well, Paptich?’ I asked, my tone a little sharper than I intended.

‘Well as can be expected, given our current crisis,’ he replied, prompting me to soften, to cast my eyes downwards and affect an expression of sorrow.

‘There’d been so much pressure on Gwinellyn since her father’s passing, the poor girl. I’d hoped to be a friend to her, but perhaps there was something she wasn’t telling me?’ The words tasted like dirt in my mouth, but I wouldn’t let that show. ‘I’m going to get to the bottom of what happened to her.’

‘So you think she’s run?’ A little flare of hope briefly lit his eyes. Not too much of that, now. I didn’t want any of them thinking we’d actually find her.

I gestured my hands in supplication. ‘I really don’t know. I wish I did.’

The light died down again to a safer level. He was silent for a moment before he cleared his throat. ‘I hear you’re intending to rally support tonight.’

‘I understand it’s not my role to meddle in politics or organise search efforts, but I’m eager to help in any way I can. Bringing my council together and making sure they have all the support and resources they need is something I can do, small as it might be.’ I sighed dramatically and fluttered my eyelashes.

He considered me warily, and I could almost see the cogs of his mind turning, comparing my current attitude to the woman who had marched into his office and secured his support to win herself a regency. And perhaps I had been less than feminine and pliable since then, but surely it wouldn’t take any terrible effort to coax him into my corner.

‘I’ve been attending worship to beg for Aether’s help in finding her, though I’m sure you’ve already been doing that,’ I added, reaching out to touch his arm. ‘Linus’s death was so tragic and sudden, and now with Gwinellyn missing, I’m becoming quite afraid.’ I crushed my brows together and bit my bottom lip. ‘I wish I’d been better at attending to my faith. I used to feel so safe in a sanctum, but now…’ I let the words trail off, sucked in a gasp of a breath just for emphasis. I was laying it on as thick as I liked butter on my bread, but priests liked that sort of thing.

‘But now?’ he prompted, and when I flashed him a look, I could see I had him.

‘Oh Paptich, do you think Aether is angry with me? Do you think he’ll reject me if I try to find comfort in my faith again?’

He patted my hand. ‘It’s never too late to mend a breach in your faith. Aether would rather have you late than not at all. Come to worship and we’ll discuss how you can make amends.’

I offered him a smile so bright that it could have been woven with enchantment. ‘Thank you, Paptich. I will.’

I excused myself from his company with that promise, feeling a drop of triumph lighten the worry I’d been wrapped in since I’d heaved Gwinellyn into the back of that cart and sent her off with Cotus.

‘That was quite the performance.’

I jumped, hissing with annoyance as I realised Draven was standing right behind me. ‘I thought we agreed you’d keep your distance,’ I snapped.

‘I agreed to nothing.’ He plucked the empty glass from my fingers and swapped it for one full of champagne. ‘You made some demands, which I’ve decided to ignore. Besides, I think I know your strategy, and keeping my distance is at odds with it.’

‘Oh? And what strategy is that?’

‘You’re going to try and convince them that you’re just a silly woman who got carried away with her feelings.’

I shot him a sideways glance, which he met and held, that look of trouble sparking in his eyes again.

‘It won’t work,’ he added. ‘But it doesn’t even stand a chance if they don’t see any evidence of you getting—’ he tucked away a curl of my hair, lingering to run his thumb over the shell of my ear ‘—carried away.’

I swatted his hand away, wishing I could swat away the shivers that had zapped along my nerves just as easily. ‘Stop it. And stop looking at me like that.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like we share a secret.’

‘If the secret is the exact, precise shade of pink of your—’

‘Forgive me, ma’am,’ one of the footmen interrupted, offering me a quick bow as he did. ‘Dinner is served.’

It was a relief to have an excuse to move away from Draven and head towards the dining hall, leaving his sentence dangling, even as it lingered in my mind. The other guests filed into line behind me, ladies on the cocked arms of gentlemen, and we approached the long table laid for forty-one people exactly. There was an amount of lumbering about finding places, but in short order everyone was seated, and the servants were arranging napkins and pouring drinks.

Draven loomed over me, attracting a flurry of glances from those nearest, though they all pretended to focus on their dining partners.

‘There’s nowhere for me to sit,’ he said.

‘One of the perils of attending an event you aren’t invited to.’ A server with a carafe of wine appeared on my other side, and I nodded in response to his offer to fill my glass.

‘You could ask for a place to be set,’ he said as the server withdrew .

Taking up my glass, I swirled the wine and watched it run down the sides in rivers of red. ‘I could, but I don’t want to. Why don’t you turn in? Take a bath. Read a book. Have an early night.’

‘I’m not really one for baths. I’ll just wait.’

Flashing him a slit-eyed glance, I bit back the urge to ask what he was talking about, since that was clearly what he wanted me to do. Instead, I slowly sipped my wine and tried to pretend he wasn’t there. Surely, he wouldn’t stand there all evening. He was already attracting attention, loitering there while the servers ducked around him.

Though to his credit, he seemed completely impervious to the stares.

‘Who’s your next target?’ he asked.

I took a mouthful of the wine, wishing I could chug the whole thing down and then find another as my gaze flickered to the wiry, weak-chinned man dressed in red druthi robes sitting further down the table. ‘The Grand Weaver.’

I could almost feel Draven's mood grow icier. ‘I don’t think you need him as an ally.’

‘Did I ask for your advice?’

My attention was snatched by a low groan several chairs away. Lord Boccius was clutching his stomach over his bright orange waistcoat, his red face glazed with sweat, and with a scraping of legs against stone he climbed to his feet. I raised my eyebrows at him as he gave a sharp bow.

‘Forgive me, counsellors, Your Royal Highness, I must excuse—’ His brow buckled and his eyes went so round they looked like they might pop out of his head as he clamped his other hand to his stomach. Without another word, he was bustling towards the door, little grunts of distress erupting from him with every other step.

‘It looks like there’s a place for me after all,’ Draven said, and before I could so much as splutter my disapproval, he was strolling towards the now-vacant chair and seating himself next to the lovely Lady Boccius, who blinked up at him like he’d descended from the sky and incinerated her husband for the seat. I drummed my fingers against the tabletop as I waited for someone to protest, but the rest of the diners seemed much more interested in the serving of the first course than they were in the changeling in their midst. Except for Prince Tallius, Princess Gwinellyn's would-be fiancé from Oceatold. He seemed particularly offended by the new addition to the dinner table. He looked quite pale, actually. A little sickly. Perhaps he would get up and run from the room after Lord Boccius.

I did my best to focus on my dinner companions as conversation began to bloom all around the table, but someone had bungled the seating arrangements and sat Lord Sherman to my right, a choice I never would have made. He droned on and on about the trade route between Port Howl in Oceatold and Lee Helse, and how we should never have agreed to some tariff or other, and something about a specific type of ship built in the Bire Isles. He just talked and talked and talked, explaining every simple concept to me like I was some brainless idiot while I barely even pretended to listen because Draven was whispering something to Lady Boccius and she was giggling. I gripped the arms of my chair so tightly that I wouldn’t have been surprised to find splintered wood beneath my palms .

‘Are you alright, Your Royal Highness?’ The question came from my other side, where I suddenly realised Lord Faucher was seated, a kind smile creasing his watery eyes. I hadn’t been caught in a conversation with him since the Armistice Ball, when I’d convinced him that my rival, Vanaria, was in love with him. The thought of Vanaria made something like guilt flop about in my stomach.

‘Yes, of course,’ I replied, dragging my attention to him.

I thought I was about to be treated to a long conversation on his horses, but instead he scanned the table. ‘So, that’s Martalos’s boy, is it?’ He nodded in Draven’s direction. ‘Odd to see anyone from that family at court. It’s been so many years.’

I frowned down the table, noting that the subject of our scrutiny was now leaning in close to Lady Boccius and saying something that should doubtless have earned him a challenge to a duel. ‘Yes,’ I said, stabbing a potato with my fork. ‘It is.’

‘Good looking chap. Nothing at all like his father. I knew Martalos a little as a boy, see, before he became a recluse. He was always so very colourless. Hair as white as an old man’s, even as a child. I wouldn’t have expected his boy to look so... different.’ There was a puzzled frown on his face as he took in the very dark-haired, olive-skinned Draven. ‘I thought he married a southern girl, but maybe I was wrong.’

‘Oh yes, I’ve no doubt there is some interesting blood in there,’ I said viciously, leaning closer to him. ‘I’ve heard Lady Martalos spends a lot of time with the local pig farmers.’

Lord Faucher’s eyebrows scrambled up his forehead, before he turned his attention back to his plate, making some bumbling noises about ‘no business of mine,’ as though the old gossip wouldn’t be whispering that story to a dozen others before morning.

I felt savagely victorious and Draven sent me a look down the table, as though he could sense my glee. I smiled politely back and continued eating.

‘It’s strange how quickly the world can change,’ Faucher continued after a few moments, with a note of wistfulness in his voice that drew my attention back. ‘Last Aetherdi, King Linus was sitting at the head of this table, and with the princess right where Lady Boccius is sitting now. How we have failed them both.’

Shame momentarily burst in my cheeks, heating them, but I swallowed it away by draining my glass. It went down easily with the rich red wine, and I smacked my lips. ‘I can’t say I’ve failed them. I’m doing the best I can.’

‘Of course, Your Royal Highness, that was never in question,’ he spluttered, tripping over his tongue in his haste to correct the impression. ‘It seems we’re living in dangerous times. More dangerous than I would ever have guessed, if enemies can steal away our princess without a trace, and with no demands made.’

So he thought she’d been kidnapped. Interesting.

He took a bite, chewed for a long time while my attention wandered back down the table. ‘I keep thinking it must have something to do with Merelyn,’ Faucher added when he’d swallowed.

‘Merelyn?’ I asked, only really half interested in the answer. Why was Draven filling up her wine glass? Couldn’t she pour her own?

‘The girl’s mother. The late queen,’ Faucher replied. I pulled my gaze back to see that he was staring straight ahead, as though he was seeing the ghosts of a previous time, a previous dinner. Of course. I knew that. That was something I should know. Now I seemed stupid and ignorant. ‘But she’s dead,’ I said, emphasising my idiocy. Aether’s teeth, what was wrong with me?

‘Well yes, yes she is,’ Faucher said, blinking rapidly. ‘But there’ve been stirrings in Yaakandale, where Merelyn was born. The rebellion hasn’t paid what the people were promised. Some are calling to reinstate the monarchy, and Princess Gwinellyn has a claim through her mother’s side.’

‘Then I suppose the majority of the royal family being dead makes them a little more sympathetic to the idea of a female ruler,’ I grumbled, before placing my cutlery carefully on the table and smoothing at my bodice. Sucking in a breath, I wrapped a tight hand around the absurd possessive instinct that had hijacked my charm and strangled it, offering Faucher a winning smile and a flutter of my eyelashes. ‘That’s such an interesting theory, Lord Faucher. Tell me more about it. I’m determined to investigate anything that might help us find out what happened to the poor girl.’ If he had a theory that centred on anyone other than me abducting Gwinellyn, then I wanted him to get used to talking about it. I especially wanted him to feel confident enough that he would voice it before the council on the morrow.

‘It’s more a speculation than a theory,’ he replied after swallowing a mouthful of roast fowl and nearly choking in his haste to get it down. ‘I spent a good few years in the Yaakandale court as ambassador, before all that revolution business. Would never have thought Merelyn could have come from such a place. They had some strange practices in those days. The old king would keep a sort of collection of wives he’d acquire from all over the land. Picked many for beauty or some talent or other, but there were a few strange ones too…’ He seemed to glaze over for a moment, lost to some memory.

‘How many is in a collection of wives?’ I prompted, and he blinked himself back into the room.

‘Never much pried into it myself, but I know there were a great many sons. They all lived in the palace, see, while the daughters were married away. There would be tournaments where they’d test their mettle against one another, prove to their father who was most worthy of inheriting the throne and all that. It was quite the spectacle.’

How glibly he referenced those daughters, an afterthought, simply married away. To where and to whom? Hardly worth a mention. And the acquired wives. I knew a little about how men acquired women.

‘Different attitude to magic, too,’ he continued after a bite.

I had been eyeing how much wine the server was pouring into my cup, but the word magic caused me to jerk my attention back. ‘What do you mean?’

‘It was outlawed entirely. Very strange place, Yaakandale. Quite primitive, if you can imagine a world without a guild weaving enchantments and making everyone’s lives easier.’

The idea that the Guild made everyone’s lives easier was laughable, but just the kind of rubbish I’d expect from the mouth of someone who’d never had to worry about whether they could afford to buy a druthi tonic to ease an infection, or whether they should try a treatment from some charlatan that might leave them with a missing limb. If they survived at all .

‘Most of the royal family are dead now, of course,’ he continued after another mouthful. ‘Terrible day, the slaughter. They never even found King Garnoc’s body after the crowds tore it apart.’

I turned my attention to minutely carving up my meal, then. The idea of being torn apart by an angry mob was all too easy to picture. It made me think of that day at the Burnings, when Draven had pulled me from the crowd and led me through a tunnel under the city to escape.

I let my gaze wander down the table again, to find him watching me. I held his stare, thinking of the way I’d followed him so blindly, my hand on his back, like I’d trusted him to get me to safety. I wouldn’t trust him in the dark now. I knew better.

When the meal was finally over, I was a little woozy from the wine I’d drunk too fast, and exhausted from ladling out flattery and being pleasant all night. The guests milled around a while longer in the room adjoining the dining hall, and all I wanted was for them to leave, but I smiled and nodded and tried to play silly and pliable and likely to make stupid decisions. I hoped they’d all remember my performance the following day.

A hand touched the small of my back.

‘Haven’t you had enough yet?’ Draven murmured in my ear. ‘Send them home.’

I pulled smoothly away, pausing to crook a finger at him. He arched an eyebrow, but followed me out the door. As soon as we’d left the room and the eyes and ears of my guests, I turned on him.

‘Stop trying to unsettle me,’ I hissed.

A slow smile spilled across his mouth. ‘Is that what you’re feeling?’ he murmured, moving closer. ‘Unsettled?’

‘As if that hasn’t been your intention, lurking about all night.’ He was far too close, and the memory of him between my thighs was too fresh. That night flashed through my mind in jagged bursts, setting the space between us alight.

‘I don’t lurk.’ He crowded me against the wall. ‘I hunt.’ The way he was watching me made that crystal clear. The half-cocked smile of his mouth, the casual arrogance of his stance, the hand pressed to the wall beside me, caging me in, ready to make his kill.

But I didn’t shrink, didn’t tremble. I held his gaze, taking some of that space between us for my own. ‘I’m no one’s prey,’ I warned. And maybe it was the urge to prove the words true. Maybe it was the warm confidence of the wine. Or maybe it was simply that fucking him had rendered him flesh and blood to me instead of some creature of shadow and magic and I wanted to remember that. But I closed the last of the distance between us, planting a hand on each of his shoulders, and kissed him.

He clearly hadn’t expected it, the surprise was written in his rigidity, in the quick, sharp inhale just as we collided. I took advantage of the shock, savagely pleased to have caught him off guard, willing myself to be fierce and unyielding and fearless. But then he stirred from his stasis and was kissing me back, winding his arms around me and pulling me flush against him. And I wanted to lose myself in that kiss. I wanted to so badly. Because his hands were scalding against me, and his lips were corroding my better judgement, but I was angry with him for needling me all night and this was going to be a battle I won.

I broke the kiss. He chased my lips, but I placed a hand on his chest and held him at bay, looking up at him from beneath my lashes .

‘Go to bed,’ I ordered, before slipping under his arms and getting out of his reach.

‘Without you?’ he called after me.

‘Goodnight Draven,’ I said without turning back.

The sound of his laughter followed me as I walked away.

I was galvanised by that kiss, so much so that when I charged back into the party, I opened the door on someone standing by it and he spilled wine all down his front. The apology I’d meant to speak died on my lips when I realised it was Prince Tallius, that spare heir of Oceatold, who stood dabbing at his shirt with a napkin, his hair gleaming like burnished gold, pale blue eyes fixed on me with an expression that simmered with disgust. I had always instinctively disliked him, from the moment he had stepped up at Gwinellyn’s birthday ball and given a speech while she had run from the room, humiliated. He was supposed to marry her. He must very well hate me when I was in the position now that he’d always hoped to be in.

‘You’ve really landed on your feet, haven’t you?’ he said.

I raised my eyebrows at him in question. ‘You might need to elaborate, Your Highness. I don’t quite know what you’re talking about.’

‘Your husband dies, then your stepdaughter vanishes. If you were still living in whatever hovel you crawled out of, you’d be shunned for the way people close to you seem to meet unfortunate ends.’

What an arrogant worm, to think he could get away with speaking to me like that. ‘Lucky I’m living in a palace, then,’ I replied. ‘And speaking of living arrangements, you’ve been staying here for quite some time. Surely your family miss you? You must be as essential to your own court as you are here.’

He seemed to be about to respond with something biting, but he froze as he caught sight of something behind me. All the colour seemed to drain from his haughty face. He clamped his mouth shut, gave a stiff nod and retreated without another word. I glanced behind me and caught sight of Draven in the doorway, staring after the prince with an expression I could only have called pure, burning loathing. It reminded me with a jolt that he wasn't just infuriating, but dangerous, because that look was terrifying . I backed away a step. His gaze flicked to me, and I watched him sweep that expression clean off his face. And then he was gone, vanishing from the doorway. I stuck my head out to see where he was going, but it was like he’d disappeared.

I looked back into the room, searching for Tallius, but he appeared to have vanished too.

What was that?

I filed the encounter away as something to think on later, returning to my guests to bid them all goodbye. I had enough on my plate tonight.