Page 146 of Dance of Kings and Thieves

“Dressed?”

Niall’s grin was cruel and dark. “For the restored Masque av Aska, where you will see to it a new king is crowned.”

CHAPTERFORTY-SEVEN

THE MEMORY THIEF

Half my facewas covered in a blue feather mask. An eternity had passed since the last Masque av Aska, and yet on the other hand it felt as if we’d rescued Hagen yesterday.

My hair had been braided behind my neck. My lips were painted in shimmering gold. The gown Niall had selected was made of black silk with raven feathers over the sleeves and neckline.

A knock sounded on the door, but without waiting for an invitation, Niall stepped inside and crossed the space between us. He wore a matching black ensemble, complete with raven wing feathers on his shoulders. His face was half hidden by a simple golden eye mask.

He carried the wooden box in his hands. “You look lovely, Malin.”

“You look like an imposter.”

Niall told a skyd who’d followed him to remove the silver chain around my neck. “I will remove your magisk collar, Malin. But I will have magisk bands around your neck, your ankles, and your wrists if you think of using your mesmer, understand?”

I didn’t respond, simply held his stare while the skyd took off the band.

“How does it feel knowing so many lives that you love are in your hands?” Niall asked. “We have countless skyds watching for your husband. When you think on it, a whole kingdom rests on your shoulders. For if the Northern king dies, I will attack their shores. With the South as our allies, they will be slaughtered.”

I pinched my lips, clenched my fists. “Let’s get on with this, then. You have me. Stop talking and do it.”

Niall wore such a smug expression, it took every sliver of control not to slap it away. He ushered me forward, demanding I place an attached hood over my red hair to conceal every recognizable piece of the memory thief.

The masquerade courtyard was bursting in color. Frosted blues. Burnished yellows. Peacock greens. The banquet tables were no longer empty but stacked high in freshly cooked fowl and fish and eel. All of yesterday’s honey cakes were now coated in white cream for the vows. Logs covered in white linens adorned either side of an aisle, and at the end was a wicker archway blooming in sweet purple blossoms.

Niall held out an arm at the top of the staircase that would take us down to the revelry.

A pretentious looking man dusted Niall’s raven feather shoulders and painted a rune of longevity and strength on his forehead.

“My Lord,” he said, his accent more contrived than his face. “There has been a change with the vows.”

“What change?” Niall growled.

The man remained unruffled and sniffed his arrogance. “With your word, we suggest placing the coronation of our new king first. It would seem the High Queen of the South is . . . well, she has been misplaced.”

Niall’s eyes flashed in dark venom when he glanced at me. I held up my hands in defense.

“How in the hells do you misplace a queen?” Niall spat at his servant.

“The princess insisted her mother had slipped away to gather a few soothing herbs. Another reason the crowning ought to go first. It would seem your bride is rather sour to her stomach.” The man opened his arm, gesturing to the dais.

Princess Signe fanned her face with a large feather. Her three veiled attendants circled around her, doting over their young royal.

“Pity,” I murmured close to Niall. “Seems if you touch her in your marital bed, she might be disgusted enough to spill her stomach all over you.”

He didn’t turn around, didn’t acknowledge me. Instead, his voice came out in a low, harsh rumble. “You would do well to remember, my guards take great pleasure in pain. I’d hate for those you care for might suffer.”

I kept my mouth tight and stepped back. If being the obedient prisoner kept my family safe, I would hold my tongue. For now.

A vein throbbed in Niall’s neck. At long last, he waved his attendant aside. “What does it matter which comes first? We are not leaving this courtyard without a king and an alliance. See that the coronation is ready.”

The servant dipped at the waist and scurried down the staircase.

“Behave, Malin,” Niall said, again without looking my way. “You are nothing but an attendant serving her king with his crown tonight. No one will know your face, or the Malevolent dies.”

---