Page 30 of Between Smoke and Shadow

“That’s not good enough,” she says. Her long nails press against my throat. “Do you not understand what’s at stake? Do you not realize how important my appearance?—”

“Ah, here you are,” a deep voice says.

Viana’s hand vanishes from my neck, leaving my coverall bunched at the collar. I remain frozen against the wall, posture strained over the rough stone. I don’t let my attention move from Viana, even as she turns away from me.

“Good evening, Prince Harrick,” she says, her words airy and bright. “I was hoping we would connect tonight.”

“As was I,” he returns. He moves close enough that I can see his profile. There’s a light scruff along his jaw, and his crown is off-center. Where his mother’s is made of broken stone, Harrick’s crown is chaotic with roots and mirrors and teeth, bits and pieces of every sector.

“I’m sorry for disappearing,” Viana says. She laughs softly, and it sounds exactly like the one she practiced in the mirror. “I was having a bit of a wardrobe malfunction.”

“Well, you look radiant,” Harrick says. He’s flirting with her, and as much as I hate these two people, a pang of jealousy dips through my stomach. Nobody has ever spoken to me like that. Viana is red in the face again, not from rage this time, but infatuation.

Harrick offers his arm, and she takes it, breath hitching as their elbows link. A week ago, I would have been elated to see them like this. It would have meant we were right about Harrick’s betrothal, and we’d soon have access to the highest level of information. Now, I’m worried I’ll be dead before I learn any of it.

“Have you tried the roast?” Harrick asks.

“I’m afraid I haven’t,” Viana says. She’s beaming at him, leaning so hard against him they look molded together.

“Perhaps your handmaiden will find some for you,” he says. It’s the first time he acknowledges I’m here. Sparing me a brief glance, he adds, “She can leave it at the crowned table.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Viana says. Her voice is still breathy as she turns toward me. “Wench, fetch me the roast.”

And then they’re gone, rounded the corner, leaving me to creep from the shadows behind them. There’s an uneasy quell in my stomach, a strange feeling that, maybe, Harrick just tried tohelpme. Again.

I shake the thought as soon as it comes. If he wanted to help me, he could have peeled the vile woman off my throat. He could have thrown her from the party, from the Tower. He certainly wouldn’t be guiding her to the dance floor, holding her to his chest.

As I gather a plate of roasted boar, I find Harrick watching me. His lips are moving and Viana is giggling at whatever he says. They’re talking about me—they have to be. The attention, the kindness…Harrick must have given it to Caleah too. Maybe I’m not the first defenseless servant he’s rescued from Viana’s brutality.

This might all be a game, and I could very well be their next target.

TEN

HARRICK

The Royal Committee is furious. They frown at me from the stage, where I’m supposed to make my big announcement in less than half an hour. They were clear I shouldn’t interact with Viana until I asked for her hand. It’s tradition, and after the Architect’s visit in the infirmary, I had planned to obey.

It’s the Committee’s fault for pairing me with a vile woman.

She sways in my arms, all smiles now. Her hands are on my shoulders, the lace sleeves scratching my neck, and her collection of rings tickle the bottom of my ears. I’m barely present in the conversation, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. She’s busy putting on a show for everyone else, giggling and blushing, tucking her head to my chest.

There’s something unsettling about a person who can shift like this. Torture an innocent in one breath and play coy the next.

I absently spin Viana, looking over her head until I find Rune. She’s walking the tables of wild game, carefully organizing a plate of roasted boar for her mistress. It’s the only food here I haven’t liked, and I feel a pathetic twitch of power, knowing Viana will eat every bite to appease me.

Rune looks up, as if she feels me staring. Her coveralls swallow her, making her look like a kid playing dress up. She doesn’t blush or smile or nod her head in subtle appreciation. She only scrunches her eyebrows, like I’m a puzzle she’s trying to solve.

“I know I should wait for the formal announcement,” Viana says, grinning up at me. “But am I right that you have chosen me?”

Demetrius Llroy beams at us from the front of the crowd. I can only guess what perks he’ll reap from our engagement. Mother already favored him over her other cronies, but I imagine he’ll weasel his way into a shiny new position or a hefty pay raise.

I look back to Viana. Black lipstick frames her flawless smile, and I can make out the deep brown of her eyes behind her mask. She looks like a demonic being, trapped in the body of a pretty woman. I want to tell her thatIhaven’t chosen her and that if it were up to me, I’d choose anyone else. Instead, I pull her tighter against my chest, keeping my eyes on her frail servant across the yard.

“That is my intention,” I say. “However, I do not tolerate violence or abuse. Not from anyone, but especially not from my wife. If we are betrothed, I expect to never witness what I have tonight. You will not lay a hand on someone undeserving. You will not harm someone who cannot fight back.”

I spin Viana away from me, finally looking back to her. A purple-red blush swims under her tanned skin, and her lip trembles like she might cry. I twirl her back into my arms, ignoring the clamor of applause that follows. The crowd cheers like Viana is my long-lost love, not a woman I’ve just met.

“Do you understand?” I ask, wrapping my arm around her waist. Her decorative jewels are sharp against my hands.

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