Page 8 of Queen of the Night
I don’t know what kind of fabric it is, but there’s a lot of it. It’s smooth and shimmery, and when I pull it from the bag, it spills out like water from a pitcher, puddling on the ground. Hand-stitched half-suns are embroidered throughout the fabric,catching in the candlelight and sparkling like real shining sunrays. The details are fine and intricate—I’m sure the dress cost a small fortune. But it’swhite… and thesuns.
My face twists in disgust. I put it back in the bag and reach for the rolled parchment. I’ve never felt parchment so velvety soft and thick. The quality is a blatant reminder of where it came from, and it sets my nerves on edge. I pull it open and Rupi flutters down to my wrist, turning her head to eye the letter with me.
In the same neat hand that had written the note to the owner ofThe Dapper Canary, Ikar informs me that I am invited to dine with him at the castle tomorrow evening to meet some of his close friends and team members. Then, in the next sentence, he tells me that Darvy and Rhosse are alive.
I let the parchment roll up as I sag into a nearby chair in relief.
“They’re alive, girl,” I whisper to Rupi who shuffles up and down my forearm, bobbing her head excitedly. I let the relief wash over me as I close my eyes and the guilt over their possible deaths seeps away. Rupi allows it for only a moment before she shuffles back toward the letter and prods it with her tiny black beak.
I pull it open again and scan the rest quickly. Ikar goes on to say that he hopes I like the dress, and mentions the unmarked black carriage that will arrive to pick me up. He gives no other information, including whether or not the king will be there, and it leaves my nerves in tangled knots. Is this the type of invitation where a person can decline, or is this the type that’s a requirement disguised as an option?
Just like this room being paid for, I assume the dinner is considered part of the job as well.
I set the parchment on the table where it snaps back into aroll and fiddle with the end of my braid as I consider the situation. But with that motion, I spot the bracelet on my wrist and drop my braid as I tug on it to test its strength. Still works, as far as I can tell. If it can just hold through tomorrow, then even if the king is there, dining only feet from me, he won’t know what I am. Still, the thought of it stirs nausea in my belly. I attempt to talk myself down from rising panic.
It’s just one meal. I only have to evade the horrid man for one night.
I can do this.
After several deep breaths and some encouraging chirps from Rupi, I find myself calming down. If I want to be free, I have to finish this job. So while the situation isn’t ideal, I can do it.
I have to.
Chapter 5
Vera
The thought of seeing Ikar tonight has butterflies stirring in my stomach mixed with a wallop of guilt, since I shouldn’t feel that way about an officer. It’s a feeling very similar to indigestion. That and the fact that I’ll be venturing to the castle this evening, entering the lair of the high king himself—for sure breaking a rule of the Black Tulips by doing so. If Tatania knew what I’m about to do, I’m sure she’d faint dead away. All I can hope is that the king won’t be joining us tonight.
I tug on the bracelet again—still secure—and step into the dress with a grimace. I find it’s a style that could fit many sizes with so much fabric and a fancy belt about the waist, but when I finally look in the mirror, I find it drapes over my every curve. Add to that… it’swhite, blatantly marking me as an originator—I simplycannotget past the color.
I tilt my head to the side with a frown. It also sort of reminds me of the lusty everwisp that stole my looks in an attempt to seduce Ikar in Shift Forest, especially with my hair curled and hanging long as it is tonight.
I wrinkle my nose and stare a moment longer. The bodice is an intricate wrap style with two gold half-sun pins on either shoulder that hold up a sweeping bow of fabric that reveals my back. I turn to the side a bit and eye the unacceptable design. Originators are known for showing off their sun-shaped marks like badges of pride, but I think they’d be rather surprised if I were to revealmymark. I’d probably be arrested—or killed on the spot.
I pull the curls aside and inspect my mark, a black tulip, stark against my fair skin. I’m fairly confident the volume of my curled hair will be enough to keep it hidden for the night—there’s a reason I went to such lengths to style it this way. Rupi chirps loudly from the window, and I assume the carriage has arrived. A sudden rush of nerves leaves me feeling jittery as I peek through the curtain and find a carriage so black and shiny it gleams waiting below. It looks very… terrifying.
I sigh, unable to believe I’m actually doing this.
Rupi flutters atop my finger, intent on not being left behind.
“No silly antics tonight. We’re entering the high king’s residence and need to avoid any more attention than a woman in a white dress with a bird already draws.”
She tilts her head, the epitome of innocence, and blinks twice. She’s not as blameless as she likes to appear, having gotten me into plenty of trouble over the years, but I take the blinks as agreement. And having her near gives me comfort, so I lift her to my shoulder.
“For freedom,” I say as I yank open the door and make my way to the doom carriage.
The ride isn’t nearly long enough. In what seems no time at all, we’ve already crossed half the distance, and I can see more and more of the castle as we travel the busy streets. Even from a distance, its presence is imposing. I know because I was staring at the despicable towers that knifed through the sunrise from my window this morning, and now I’m drawing ever nearer to entering its treacherous doors. At the thought of actually stepping inside, the interior of the carriage grows horribly stuffy. Moisture begins to bead along my brow as the castle comes into view a few streets ahead, and as expensive as this dress feels, it does nothing to absorb the sweat that begins to gather beneath that fabric.
“Completely impractical,” I mutter to Rupi as I clamber to fiddle with the latch of a small gleaming window in an almost panicked motion.
It gives way with a refreshing burst of cool air across my face. I sigh with relief. But having it open increases the noise from outside. We round a corner onto a road that leads straight to the yawning, fancy gates of the castle, passing closely by a group of women. I freeze when I hear their words float innocently through the window. “…the king returned home just yesterd?—”
Their voices fade and are replaced with other snippets of conversation from people we pass—none of which I care to discern as my ears buzz with dread. The king isat the castle? I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised. Itishis home.
I try to calm my breathing. I already assumed he’d be there, didn’t I? Somehow, having it confirmed makes it one hundred times worse. I don’t know how many times I’ve twisted my bracelet, but Rupi pecks my hand, telling me to stop with a tiny scolding eye. “Right. I gotta pull myself together.” I sit back against the cushy bench with a huff, eyeing the rednessaround my wrist. It’ll draw unwanted attention, so I force myself to leave it alone.
We roll through the gates and a full view of the massive structure fills my vision. The castle is built of smooth, creamy stone, with architecture so elegant and graceful it appears to be something out of a vivid dream. Large balconies grace its outside walls, dripping with beautiful flowers and greenery, and I imagine they lead to grand ballrooms. An enormous set of steps leads to an entrance made up of three sets of wood doors so large I guess it would take three men to open one. Six stoic soldiers stand guard before them, covered in intimidating armor and a variety of weapons. None move when our carriage stops and the door swings open. A serious young man dressed in dark-blue royal clothing, seeming to appear out of nowhere, stands with one hand outstretched—I assume to help me out.
