Page 24 of Upon the Riven Throne
Mireille spent the next morning peering out every window of the palace. If she could spot the purple of wisteria blossoms, or even the path they had taken to find it, then she could be certain the dream had been real. Never mind how real it felt, when the queen had come for her, it was always only to direct her actions. Alder had somehow reached Mireille more deeply, but he had not taken her thoughts or her will.
For his part, Thomas had slept the night through and could offer no additional clues. But the staff had been helpful in other areas of their search, revealing scraps of information regarding previous kings and queens and how they had been bound, so he hoped to gain more as the fae prepared for the week’s events. She’d had to swear to Thomas that she would not leave the castle in search of proof before he left to seek out more members of the staff.
Deciding she might have better luck from a higher vantage, Mireille climbed a narrow flight of stairs at the end of the corridor. Her stomach sank when she crested the stairs only to find the double doors that she’d encountered the day before. She spun, certain it was not possible that the corridor where she stood connected to the staircase she’d used the previous day, but where the narrow stairwell that she had just climbed had been, was a different one—one she had not climbed. Mireille ran to the bottom, finding the entrance hall, its elaborate carvings seeming to peer down at her, more threatening than they had been before. Feet light on the marble floor, she ran toward the west wing until she was breathless, then took another stair to the next floor. The massive doors loomed in front of her once more. She ran again, to the third floor, and higher. But every staircase she topped, every corridor she turned, led her back to the throne room, as if the palace meant to send her a message.
Mireille stepped back, nearly falling on the top step of the grand staircase. A fae woman watched her from the hall, taking a bite of a small, misshapen apple. The wet crunch echoed through the space.
Abandoning entirely her plan to find the wisteria tree or any single thing on the upper floors, Mireille came down the staircase, striding past the fae woman without a word. At her back, laughter echoed over the marble. Mireille did not care.
Safely away long enough to catch her breath, her heart resuming its pulse, Mireille perched on a stone windowsill. The large glass pane revealed a flower garden, its bright blooms playing host to abundant butterflies. The sun was beginning to set, casting warm color across the greenery. It was a picturesque sight, but not one she had seen in the dream the night before.
A throat cleared behind her. Mireille turned, half dread at the prospect of another encounter with a fae, but it was only Noal.
Her shoulders relaxed, and she resumed her study of the garden’s butterflies. “It is beautiful here. I quite regret not being able to explore the grounds and the kingdom farther.”
“That is precisely why I’ve found you,” Noal said. When her attention returned to him, he explained, “Because you cannot attend our festivals outside his protection, the prince would like Rivenwilde brought to you.”
She eyed him skeptically. “This was the prince’s request?”
Noal’s lips parted. He smiled. “The actions of the palace staff reflect directly on the prince, Your Highness. Our job is to anticipate his wishes. All we do is at his request, in a manner of speaking.”
They walkedthrough several corridors that did not seem to shift, and Mireille resisted the urge to glance back to be certain they remained once she had passed. But when Noal led her into the courtyard, all her unease was forgotten. She gasped, and she could not be ashamed of it.
From the center of a massive archway draped in vining roses, their blooms as big as her outstretched hand, Mireille took in a scene that might have come out of a fanciful painting. Fae in colorful gowns danced among the foliage, playing games and acting out melodramas and enjoying general revelries. A small orchestra performed the most beautiful melody, and the scents of flowers and food filled the air. Sculptures rose through the greenery between a maze of pathways, colored ribbons strung from column to column, and laughter echoed from beyond the shrubbery where a picnic had been laid over the ground.
It was a delight. A festival on palace grounds.
“There you are,” Nisha said, suddenly beside them. “What took so long? We had to start dancing without her.”
“She was exploring the palace.”
Noal’s reply held no particular tone, but Nisha’s attention shifted consideringly to Mireille. She took Mireille’s arm. “Come, Princess. Let us introduce you to the best of the Riven Court before my brother finds out. Do you sing, perchance?”
* * *
That evening,after Mireille had been returned to her room and had washed the fruit from her hands and paint from her cheeks, Noal appeared at her door.
“I suppose you are here to inform me of some pressing business of the prince, and that it would perhaps be best that I dine alone in my room?”
His chin dipped in acknowledgement. “The prince is indeed very busy and has sent me to inform you of such.” No hint of the afternoon’s festivities remained on his person, but something mischievous danced in his eyes. “I find, in fact, that I would be remiss in my duty should I not encourage you to avoid his highness’s study at all costs.”
“At all costs, you say?”
He laced his arms behind his back, rocking a bit on his heels. “Truly, the prince’s study would be the last place he would want you to dine.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Acting in anticipation of his wishes, I see.” Mireille wasn’t certain why Noal was making such attempts to bring her and the prince closer, but she could use all the help she could get, even if she didn’t trust anything that brought joy to the expression of a fae.
“I am sure I do not know what you mean,” he said.
Mireille nodded. “Very well. I agree it would be the height of presumption to invade the prince’s study when he’s in such great need of privacy. I thank you for your advice.”
He inclined his head before turning to walk the corridor. Mireille thought she heard the echo of a whistled tune when he rounded the corner, but she was already up from her seat and on the way to her wardrobe to prepare. The prince had raised the stakes the night before, bringing her safety in her dreams. She needed to prove she was worth his efforts.
She needed to be certain he would let her in.
* * *
At precisely nine,Mireille surprised Alder by knocking on his study door.
