Page 66 of The Shadowed Oracle (The Bonded Worlds #1)

Chapter Thirty-Six

It was apparent right away that Lucilla was only being polite. By “new friends,” she meant Dean and Raidinn, and by “front and center,” she meant utterly ignored and left to roam around the decorated great hall.

In some ways, it was relief. In other ways, it made her task all the more difficult. She made her way through half-naked performers, drunken dancing guests, armed guards standing at attention, and animal trainers leading housebroken beasts through the party like it was a petting zoo to find Tyla.

But she was nowhere to be seen. A lap around produced only a few propositions to dance and a near accident involving a tall glass of red wine that would’ve made Ingrid’s skin-tight gown all the more uncomfortable.

She turned her sights on the male members of her team.

A quick assessment of the ballroom upon entrance had uncovered Raidinn and Dean still next to the newlyweds.

They were mere feet from their target, Arryn, but even closer to Enitha, who was sandwiched between them on yet another high-rise settee at the very center of the party.

It was a bulky distraction even amongst the silver ribbons and banners hanging all over the ballroom, gaudily adorned with animal-fur blankets and bejeweled pillows.

Transplanted as she was, Ingrid couldn’t wrap her head around the show of it.

Surely it wasn’t customary for monarchs to, quite literally, elevate themselves above those they called their friends at every single function.

And the physics of it was only part of the uncouth display.

The clash of expensive jewelry and flashy gilded garments with gauche upholstery and mismatched bright colors recalled the newly rich humans she met back on Earth.

As if the sudden acquisition of wealth had erased their natural sensibilities in favor of the loudest stylistic proclamations possible.

Ingrid allowed herself a short-lived laugh, then zeroed back in on her friends. They looked at ease for now, still dressed as they were on the ship that morning. Dean was hard at work, playing his part, and Raidinn looked like he always looked—having as much fun as possible while he could.

She could only guess what plans they had to separate Enitha from Arryn, but ideally, before that, Ingrid would find a way to tell the two males what she’d learned of Enitha’s power. Warn them of the very real threat that, until now, had been downplayed by Callinora.

Ingrid kept one eye on Arryn and her friends while again sifting through the crowd. There was still no sign of Tyla, but by the dance floor, she saw the bright-eyed Monia hiding behind one of the sigil banners. Her hands were up, holding an invisible dance partner and moving along to the music.

“I lost you,” Ingrid said, shuffling up to her with a smile.

“Oh, forgive me, my lady, we’re not supposed to follow.” Monia didn’t break her stride as she spoke, careless of who was watching. “We’re just here to assist. But never shadow.” Something in her tone made it seem like this was her best impression of Lucilla.

“You’re doing a fine job of it, then.”

“Am I?” Monia asked the question as if she didn’t expect an answer. “In truth, I’m terribly bored. I’m not allowed to participate. Can’t even have a few drinks at these things.”

“That’s terrible.” Ingrid turned, found what she was targeting, then arched her back to snatch a wine goblet from one of the servants’ trays. “Here, for your hard work,” she said, holding the drink out. “I’m sure if I insist, no one will mind.”

“Oh!” The lady’s maid stared wide-eyed at the drink for a moment before snatching the goblet and drinking it all down in one gulp. A mannered hand went up to her mouth to stifle a belch, then she returned to her mock-dance with her no doubt very fetching mock-partner. “Thank you, my lady.”

“You’re welcome.” Ingrid gave another once-over of the crowd. “I was wondering, Monia, have you seen Lady Tyla?”

“Lady Tyla,” Monia hummed it like a song.

“Lady Tyla… yes! I saw her not long ago. Hard to miss, your friend. I don’t think I’ve seen such a beautiful face resting on such a—” She stopped, peering at Ingrid.

“Well, you know better than I would how your friend is, uh… built.” It was obvious now, despite the rule she’d just recited, that the drink Ingrid had offered wasn’t Monia’s first of the evening.

“Anyway, I saw her, yes. By the bay window. But it looked like Gerhardt got his hooks in her, the old bastard.”

“Gerhardt?”

“Yes, I’m sure you’ve seen him slithering about.”

She’d almost forgotten about the lord of treasury.

After Enitha had whispered some serious command in his ear, he’d hopped away in a hurry to some unseen part of the castle.

Away from the queen, and away from the world-walkers for all two or so hours they’d spent in the throne room.

It was odd, especially after he’d expressed such intrigue in hearing about their travels.

“Yes,” Ingrid said impatiently. “I know who he is.” But what had he been up to? She frantically jerked herself around to look for him in the crowd, clutching at the long hem of her dress as she twirled.

“Are you alright, my lady?” Monia asked.

Ingrid only grunted in response. She moved toward the direction of the dance floor, trying to find a line of sight to the other side of the room.

“Let me know if you need any further assistance, my lady!” Monia called out.

Ingrid waved in gratitude as she marched off.

Her shoulders carved a path through the crowded floor full of dancing pairs, bumping the more careless Viator and barely avoiding those with just enough time to see her coming.

Finally, she found the light at the other side.

Tyla—safe, and looking nearly unrecognizable in a dress and makeup.

Monia had been right. She was hard to miss, and Ingrid cursed herself for not finding her sooner.

She was a soothing sight. Her hair was braided beautifully, obviously Monia’s able work, and looking stunning as ever in a backless blue dress that accentuated her muscled shoulders and long regal neck.

It felt like Ingrid’s lungs doubled in size once they met eyes, and that ivory-white smile beamed at her.

“Pardon me, Gerhardt,” Ingrid cut in, sparing not even a glance at the male. “I’m afraid I must steal Lady Tyla from you for a moment. Do you mind?”

He gave only a pompous smile in response.

Ingrid took this as an invitation to sweep her away, but instead, her friend took her by the hand, squeezing as if to say, Not so fast .

“We were just discussing the Royal Bank’s tax cuts this year,” Tyla said. “Stick around for a minute.”

Ingrid looked at her incredulously, but once Gerhardt turned his attention away for a moment, Tyla mouthed, Drunk . Listen . Adding a discreet tap to her earlobe in case she didn’t understand.

Fine , Ingrid mouthed back. She didn’t like the idea of taking her eyes off Dean up there on the dais, but she trusted Tyla. Trusted that whatever she had in mind, it was likely a better plan than she’d concocted in the short amount of time she’d been there.

“Terrible. Just terrible timing, you see. Just terrible!” Gerhardt was stuttering, but not so badly that he was incomprehensible.

A self-satisfied smirk crept its way onto his triangular face.

“So please, do join us. You might as well make yourself comfortable. We were right in the middle of that rare and precious jewel even merchants like yourselves can’t procure. ”

Ingrid gave him a stone-faced look, perplexed. “Huh?”

“Conversation, of course.” He tipped his goblet toward her, spilling some on his shoes. “What say you? Shall we catch you up?”

“I’d be thrilled.” Ingrid feigned excitement, already turning her attention to that heavily decorated dais to her right.

Raidinn was face-to-face with Arryn now, swapping battle stories if the sharp gestures of their hands were any indication.

And on the other side, Dean was sitting shoulder to shoulder with Enitha.

Thankfully, for the sake of Ingrid’s stomach, they were not touching.

She kept her sharpened glare on them while Gerhardt spoke.

“The relocation and redistribution of court funds is my true passion, you see. I made my goals and intentions clear to Enitha, and she kept me at my same station. I am the last—the very last remaining advisor carried over from our former council.” Gerhardt paused here to allow for some congratulations, but found none.

“Well, we still have much work to do. Much work! Though we have managed to raise taxes and cut erroneous expenditures in the same breath. Which, as you can imagine, frees up all kinds of funding for gala events, the Occanthus races, and of course the games!”

“I’ve heard those are quite popular,” Ingrid replied absent-mindedly. A miracle that she could even contribute that, considering.

Dean was laughing now, and it appeared genuine. He was a good actor, Ingrid thought, because he couldn’t have been enjoying himself. The queen had certain alluring qualities, sure, but they all paled in comparison to the vile pomp oozing from her every word.

“An understatement,” Gerhardt scoffed. “The games, they are more than popular, my lady. They are a sensation! Morale has never been higher. Even in Horace’s golden years, there was nothing like it. Unprecedented. The games are simply a sensation!”

The loud repetition drew the attention of surrounding guests, but Ingrid’s eyes were still on the queen.