“I did. I thought, Why, if anyone could tell me what’s really going on here, surely Lady Aliza could.”
Curiosity pricked me. I schooled my voice into passive interest and decided to feign ignorance. “Why do you think anything’s going on, Lady Neira?”
Her bright eyes grew wide. “But surely you’ve seen it! Haven’t you been in the city?”
“We only arrived a few days ago.”
“Oh. Still, I would’ve thought . . .” She shook her head and lowered her voice. “I have no proof, mind. Even my husband will give me only the vaguest assurances, but I suspect there’s more to these negotiations than anyone’s letting on.”
“Like what?”
“Alliances, of course!” she whispered. “Everyone’s talking of trade treaties, but what if it’s not that at all?” All at once she lifted her chin with a look of defiant triumph, as if she had just solved a riddle that had been confounding the whole court. “It all makes sense when you think about it.”
“It does?”
“Of course. This treaty is just a cover for the marriage negotiations!”
The word marriage nearly came out in a squeal. I blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“Prince Darragh, of course!” She giggled. “He’s very marriageable, and the leading princes of the Southern Principalities have more than enough daughters to spare between them. So does the Grand Regent of the Islands.”
“And Els?” I asked.
“Oh. Yes, them.” Her excitement dimmed a little. “Well, perhaps they really are here for the trade talks. But speaking of, where are they?” She stood on slippered toes and looked around. “Dinner should be served soon. Surely they don’t need all afternoon to dress?” She tittered again, hiding her mouth behind one slender hand. The cloudy white heartstone of a banshee glittered in its silver band on her finger. “Or perhaps those forge-wights do. Maybe they bathe in fire!”
I murmured something vaguely negative, but she didn’t seem to notice. I had to resist the urge to draw back when she put her arm through mine and began a sedate but determined walk toward the main body of courtiers.
Surreptitiously I scanned the hall for Alastair. He and Edmund were still in conversation with the king and a contingent of Southrons from the Principalities. I noticed the familiar bearded face of Lord General Camron hovering nearby, indecisive for a moment before bowing his way into their circle. Lady Catriona and the queen consort had moved with the Garhadi ambassador farther from the tables, but Julienna hovered at the fringes of their little group, clearly uninvolved with the conversation but unsure where else to go. I caught her eye and motioned her over.
“Who are you . . . oh!” Lady Neira said, curtsying as Julienna jogged to us. “My lady!”
“Julienna, this is my new friend Lady Neira,” I told her. “We were just discussing—”
“Idle court gossip,” Neira said, blushing fiercely, her eyes downcast. “Nothing of consequence, Lady Julienna.”
Puzzled for a second by Neira’s change in address, it struck me all at once. She’d said as much when she’d introduced herself, not to a Daired, but to his nakla bride. I felt suddenly like a fool, coarse-handed, coarse-tongued, and ordinary, an impostor among the Fireborn, good for gossip and little else. The thought twisted in my gut, an old and familiar pain. I swallowed the unexpected thick feeling in my throat. Danger and death and the shadow of war loomed; I could not afford to feel sorry for myself.
Putting on a bright smile, I turned to Julienna again and said, “Lady Neira’s husband is the ambassador from the Islands. She thinks there’s more to this treaty than the king is letting on.”
A flash of interest lighted in Julienna’s eyes and she turned to Neira with new attentiveness. “What do you suspect?”
Neira blushed again, though this time I guessed it had more to do with delight than mortification, as she promptly dropped my arm and moved to Julienna’s side to answer in that same confidential tone she’d used with me.
She never got the chance.
The sharp ring of the herald’s staff echoed through the hall. “Your Royal Majesty, Your Royal Highness,” the herald cried, “may I present His Majesty the Silent King of Els.”
Conversation died in a heartbeat. A hundred necks craned to see the newcomers, breathless with anticipation. Old fears coiled inside me as the first forge-wight guards entered, armored but weaponless, trailing their heavy chain mail cloaks after them. Golden fires glowed behind their helms. More followed until six stood in front of the herald, their fiery bulk clearing a wide avenue through the courtiers. The shortest forge-wight was a full head taller than the tallest human present. After them came another two guards, these ones shorter and more human-shaped than their counterparts, though equally armored and helmeted. One bore the standard of Els; the other, a curiously curved staff of office.
“Where’s the Silent King?” Neira whispered, rising to her toes again. “Can you see him?”
Julienna made a shushing motion as the forge-wights parted and a figure stepped out.
The Silent King was not what I expected. He was no taller than Neira, compactly built beneath his gilt armor and, to all observation, perfectly human. The foremost of his servants towered above him. Murmurs started across the reception hall, moving like ripples over a still pond. Like his guards, the Elsian king wore a helm instead of a crown, though his had all the ornateness those of his guards lacked. It was made of some dark reddish metal and shaped like a roaring sphinx, its open mouth forming the faceplate and flowing down over his head and shoulders in a mane of interwoven plates of red and gold and silver. The sphinx’s great fangs all but obscured the sight of his face. Beneath the helm the king wore a simple white robe crossed with the red and gold sashes of Els and bound with a wide leather belt. In the hush that had fallen over the hall I heard the faint clink of chain mail as he strode, with sure and deliberate steps, toward the king. As he walked, he scanned the staring faces around him with the casual gaze of one who not only didn’t mind the attention but had long expected it.
As his slow sweep turned toward our side of the room, he stopped midstep. There was a moment of frantic reassembly among his guards as they rearranged themselves, searching for whatever sight had arrested their sovereign. He ignored them, changing his course from the king to—
My heart began to pound. Us. He was heading straight for us.
The rippling whispers rose to a dull roar as courtiers around us struggled to make sense of this new turn even as the clanking of mail and the heavy steps of the forge-wights drew nearer. I glanced at Julienna, who watched their approach with a steely, set expression. Neira’s mouth hung open in a perfect circle. I looked behind us. A handful of startled courtiers stared back, and beyond them, the wall.
“Aliza?” Julienna whispered.
“It’s all right,” I said quietly, though it did not feel all right at all. My mind raced. What is this? What’s your game? Movement from the edge of the crowd. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Alastair push his way to the front, his expression as alarmed as his sister’s. The Silent King was very close now, and it was then I saw what the distance had obscured before. The helmet alone didn’t conceal the king’s face; a white veil hung beneath those steel teeth, leaving only the blank smoothness of silk where his eyes should have been. A shiver took hold of me somewhere deep in my gut.