Page 33 of A Reign of Roses
Before she could utter another word I hurried out the door, directly past an unaware Wyn, arms folded patiently as he waited.
I wouldn’t have much time before he broke into the women’s washroom to look for me. I needed to find Amelia.
Nearly bashing into dapper, rich men and elegant women plied with too much wine, I hurtled down the staircase and into the madness.
Revelry reined. Blaring music, bodies sweating, laughter that sounded like weeping. Bumped by imposing Fae, toes trod on by dancers, I scuttled across the checkered floor like a beetle on a battlefield. It was too dark, and my vision was obscured under the hands of my mask. My corset too tight, the fur of this obscene coat itchy on my neck and chest.
When I finally saw that pristine ivory dress, I uttered my thanks to the Stones themselves. Amelia’s white silk train was unmarred by a single shoe print. If I were a beetle, the new queen of Peridot was a dove, high in the sky, untouched by the boisterous chaos.
“Queen Amelia,” I cut in, despite what seemed to be an engaging conversation with some mustached noble. “It’s been too long.”
She turned, the intricate ornaments of her mask whirring and tinkering with the movement like real creatures might. “Who is that? These masks are such a pain.”
“Mari.” Though I knew it was ridiculous, saying her name made my eyes burn. “Mari Branton.”
Amelia faltered only briefly before pulling me into a stunted embrace and hissing against my hair, “Arwen?”
I nodded until she released me, though she only stood there, gaping.
I turned to the mustached man across from us, whose expression said he knew his odds of bedding a queen tonight were rapidlydeteriorating. “I haven’t seen my dear friend since her coronation. Would you mind terribly if I stole her away to catch up?”
“Of course not.” The man bowed.
“There’s…a courtyard this way,” Amelia whispered, finally finding her voice. “Follow me.”
“I don’t have much time.”
“You’ve a lot more than I thought.”
Amelia dragged me past the swarm of revelers, across that checkered floor, past the sixteen sweating musicians playing a frenzied piece, and through a wide set of doors.
My racing heart stilled with the fragrant breeze. I hadn’t been outside in months.
I inhaled fresh night air. Or whatever served as closest to it here in Solaris. Dry, slightly sweet, a little thick. But fresh air nonetheless.
Amelia yanked me past a few more relaxed soldiers—still on duty, but with the visibly less demanding domain of the courtyard—and toward a shallow, dark reflection pool, its still water topped by fat lily pads but bare of lilies and glinting in the light of nearby curved lamps.
“How are you alive?” Amelia’s words were hushed as she tipped the monstrosity from her face and across her head like a hat. I did the same. Not-quite-cool-enough air washed over my face.
“Lazarus healed me. It was all a ploy to get to Kane. He never wanted me to die.”
Her eyes were still wild with shock. Her breaths rushed as she said, “But the prophecy—”
“I know. He destroyed the blade. Now he can’t be killed.”
“And he kept you here because…?” The moon’s light was spoiled as it was every night by those immovable clouds of putrid gray, but some thin, determined silver glow still cast Amelia’s tan skin in delicate shadows.
I sighed and lowered my voice even more. “He wants me to bear him full-blooded Fae children.”
Amelia’s eyes widened even farther.“What?”
I resisted the urge to shake her and only said, as calmly as possible, “Amelia. You need to get word to Kane that I’m here. That I’m alive.”
“Arwen…” She was shaking her head as if trying to sort through the onslaught of new information.
“I think I can convince one of my guards to—”
“Arwen.” She sighed, eyes finding that rippleless reflection pool. “I can’t reach Kane.”
