Nadya placed Malachiasz’s spell book on the table and sat down next to Parijahan.
“What happens now?”
Parijahan tugged off the leather strip tying her braid and ran her hands through her hair. “We’ve snuck in right as the gates were closing. Tomorrow the entire affair begins.”
“I don’t like that we’ve split from the boys.”
Parijahan nudged her shoulder. “I think we can handle ourselves.”
“Clearly.” She grew quiet, still eyeing the painting on the ceiling. “Do you regret leaving your home? The time you spent in Kalyazin couldn’t have been comfortable.”
“Not regret, no. Having Rashid with me helped. I’ve known him my whole life. And we crashed into Malachiasz about six months ago after getting into trouble with some off-duty Kalyazi soldiers. Rashid ended up unconscious in a ditch; Malachiasz nearly had his hair shorn off and spent the entire next day after we got to safety panicking over the close call.”
Nadya giggled. Parijahan gently turned her so she could undo her braid as well from where it was spiraled around the back of her head like a crown. Nadya was quiet as Parijahan combed her hair out with her fingers.
“Do you think we can actually do this?”
Parijahan’s hands stilled. Nadya felt her fingers curl over her shoulders.
“We have to.”
Her tone made Nadya’s spine straighten. She has some other stake in this I haven’t heard yet, Nadya thought. Something other than revenge.
“Then we will.”
19
NADEZHDA
LAPTEVA
Myesta, the goddess of the moon, is deceit and deception and an ever-changing illusion of light in an eternal darkness.
—Codex of the Divine, 15:29
Nadya clutched Malachiasz’s spell book against her chest and regretted every single decision she had ever made that had led her to this point.
“Relax,” Parijahan said. “They’re only dresses.”
Nadya let out a strained whimper in response. Any one of the dresses in front of her was worth more than what would feed the monastery for five years. Rich fabrics in vibrant colors, pearls and gemstone beadwork spilled over the bodices and onto the skirts. Vague impressions of flowers were prominent amidst the glittering finery. The headdresses made Nadya’s neck ache just looking at them. Some were tall, some looked like floral wreaths—though they were made from fabric and lace and beads—some vaguely resembled the kokoshniks Nadya knew nobles wore in Kalyazin.
“Where did these come from?” Nadya asked.
“Officially? You have a wealthy Akolan patron.”
Nadya glanced at Parijahan, who grinned at her.
“I guess unofficially that is also the case.”
They eventually landed on a dress the color of midnight, close to black but flashing deep blue in the light. It was like slipping darkness over Nadya’s skin, with just enough light to keep her from being consumed. Next she chose an ornate headdress that spilled strings of black pearls. Nadya fastened on a slim mask that only covered a strip of her face.
Parijahan stepped back with a nod.
Nadya reached for a delicate belt for her spell book before changing her mind and taking Malachiasz’s instead. Instead of looking out of place, the worn leather seemed to fit over the rich dress.
She looked like a blood mage. She swallowed hard, hands fumbling for Kostya’s necklace. She tucked it down in the bodice of the dress, out of sight but still close, still comforting. The last piece she had of home.
“Try to remain relatively inconspicuous,” Parijahan said. “You don’t need attention drawn to yourself yet, it’ll just make all the other contestants try to take you out faster. We need to figure out how the king keeps himself guarded.”
“Once we have that?”
“I’ve already heard more than one slavhka comment on the king’s weakness with blood magic.”
“An easy mark,” Nadya said softly.
“It’s the prince you have to worry about,” she continued. “He surrounds himself with those lieutenants of his—both blood mages—and from what I’ve gathered, the prince is the opposite of his father in nearly every way.”
Nadya couldn’t worry about the prince yet. The king was the one she had come to topple.
“However,” Parijahan said thoughtfully, “if you get close to the prince, that will get you a seat near the king. Then you’ll have your opening.”
“So, don’t draw attention to myself, but also get the prince’s attention?”
“Basically. You can do this, Nadya,” Parijahan said softly.
She could. She had to. Kalyazin would win the war; the gods would reclaim their hold on the world. This was what she had spent her life preparing for.
* * *
It took Nadya exactly thirteen minutes to make a mistake big enough to land her in a terrifically uncomfortable situation. She was shuffled into a salon with the other participants and—in most cases—their chaperones. She knew what this was; a game of subtleties, Malachiasz had said. The first test.
This was where alliances would be forged and rivalry lines drawn. It was also where a number of the contestants would get their first true look at the High Prince. If Nadya messed up here she could lose the entire game before it even began.
The only thing Nadya initially noticed about the slavhka who flitted past her was that her large violet eyes were strangely off-putting. It took Nadya’s brain a handful of seconds to translate the comment the girl made to her companion while still in earshot. It took her another second to realize it was a slight about Nadya’s appearance. Her nose was crooked and her hair limp.
She can’t even see my hair, Nadya thought, irritated and bewildered. And she’d seen herself in a mirror, Malachiasz had done a perfectly fine job with her nose.
“Porodiec ze błowisz?” she called pleasantly. “I thought those with money could pay to learn how to properly associate with other people.”
The girl froze. Chatter in half of the room ceased immediately. The girl turned slowly on her heels to face Nadya.
I should’ve let the slight pass.
She lifted her eyebrows as the girl stalked over to her and smiled. If she was going to get through this in one piece, she needed to act like this was something that happened to her all the time. Snide comments were a normal thing for her and so she would retaliate in kind.
“Excuse me?”
“I think you heard what I said,” Nadya replied.
“How dare you speak to me like that. Do you know who I am?”
“Am I supposed to?”
The girl snatched her spell book open, tearing out a blank page and crumpling it in her fist. She tossed it down, grinding it underneath the heel of her shoe.
“Can you back that up with power?” she asked.
Nadya had literally no idea what was happening. No one had ever explained to her what this meant. Her confusion must have shown on her face because a tall girl with luminous skin like onyx threaded with gold glided over to stand near Nadya.
“She’s challenging you to a duel, dear,” she said gently.
Nadya looked over at the second girl, who smiled encouragingly. She fought the urge to glance back at where Parijahan was leaning against the wall.