“He’ll do better tonight, Your Highness. He’s been working so hard—”
He pressed his fingers to my lips, silencing me. If he weren’t the prince, I would’ve bitten him.
“I care about your father. I do. But if he doesn’t prove to my father that his magic is real, it could mean a death sentence.”
I pushed his hand off me and got up. “Do something, then!”
“I am. I-I did,” Jori stuttered as if I’d made him nervous. He took my hand. “I spoke to my father. He knows that you have nothing to do with this deception. You will be safe.”
“Deception?”
“You cannot lie, falsely claim to be the Ambrosius before the king, not without consequences. If he deceived me . . . deceived the king . . .” Jori didn’t finish that sentence. “I’m very much hoping I’m wrong.”
“This is outrageous. Do you hear what you are saying, Jori?” I tore my hand back and crossed my arms over my body in protection. “We did not ask to come here. We did not seek the king’s favor. Now, simply because you came across us in a tavern in the middle of nowhere, our lives are in jeopardy?”
“Listen to me.” He latched on to my shoulders. “If Xavier fails tonight, it will not be held against you. I don’t want you to be afraid. I would never let anything happen to you.” He squeezed my shoulders, probably trying to be reassuring, but it felt patronizing. “You are special, Maggie. I know you’ve heard I am betrothed to Esmera, but I don’t want that. She doesn’t want it either.”
“I’m sorry” was all I could think to say.
He stared at the floor, his face a mask of confusion. This conversation wasn’t going the way he’d planned. When he looked up, his hand moved behind my head and he pulled me to him, hugging me. “I’m trying to tell you that I want you, Maggie.”
I laughed, pushing him away from me. “You don’t even know me. You shower me with presents I don’t want. Dresses aren’t important to me.” I gestured to the puffed sleeve. “Jewels are only worth what I can sell them for.” I unlatched the ruby necklace, placing it in his hand.
“What is it you do cherish, Maggie? I can get it for you. Anything you want. All you have to do is tell me.” Jori looked lost.
“Freedom. I want my dragon released from that horrible place you have her locked in, and I want to leave the Walled City.”
“Your dragon?” Jori asked.
“I meant draignoch. That one doesn’t belong here. It belongs in the wild.”
“I don’t understand. You’re telling me you want me to release a dangerous creature upon the Hinterlands, and you wish to go with it rather than living here—in safety and luxury?” Jori stood taller. “Draignochs cannot roam free, and neither can you. It is—”
“Too dangerous. You say that a lot.”
Jori held my hand. “You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. I’m telling you I want you to stay with me and all you can think of doing is leaving.”
“You don’t. Even. Know me.”
“But I want to.” He dropped his forehead on mine. “Doesn’t that mean something?”
“Not in the way it should, sire.” I took a step back from him, the implication causing his expression to fall into a scowl.
He ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed his face. When he looked at me again, his demeanor changed. He was trying for indifference. He clicked his heels formally, and then he left. And I could finally breathe.
I slept like the dead.
Petal woke me by waving a bowl of baked apples under my nose. After I ate every bite of it, I started in on a plate of roasted meat and buttered potatoes like a wild animal, using my hands until she hit me with a wooden spoon on the back on my head.
My bath was warm, not hot. She had probably drawn it a while ago. It was dark out, but the waxing moon cast a beautiful glow through the window. When I got out of the bath, Petal held up two new dresses as high as she could, leaving two feet of linen dragging on the floor. One was pale blue, like the last, but with thick cuffs of silver threading and white crystal beading. The other was the color of the setting sun, a hazy burnt orange, with maple-shaped leaves across the chest, stitched out of spun gold. They were the most beautiful dresses I had ever seen.
“From the prince?”
Petal nodded, grinning.
So. He was undeterred.
She held them up to me one at a time, then settled on the orange dress.
A short time later, Raleigh led Xavier and me across the bridge and into the tower we had seen earlier. The king’s private chambers were on the very top. Four guards posted; two pulled the double doors open, allowing us entry without breaking pace.
An enormous window gave a fantastic view of the Walled City. There were no curtains or tapestries, nothing to obstruct the king’s ability to see anything and everything around him. An ornate chair with a high back and long arms sat facing the window.
King Umbert’s throne. He probably spent every available minute spying on his own people.
The fire burning in the fireplace snapped and hissed, bathing the room with comfortable warmth. Carved rose vines decorated the mantel. A rose-scented oil pot was given the unfortunate task of masking the pungent odor of stale ale and wet dog. The combination of the three left me nauseated.
Xavier went immediately to a table where several pieces of Phantombronze armor sat, dust covered as if they’d been there a long, long time.
I picked up the gimlet and slid my hand inside the glove. Much too large, the fingers still moved easily because it was so light. “Xavier, have you ever heard of anything that can break Phantombronze? Or cut it? Or maybe melt it?”
“I don’t, lass. I’ve never seen it in true form before. All found in the Hinterlands turned out to be false. Pyrite mixed with copper.”
“Phantombronze cannot be melted or cut. It runs hot through the mountain beneath this fortress, in underground rivers. Thousands died to extract or smith what you’re wearing right now,” Raleigh explained, removing the gimlet from my hand. “Don’t touch anything.”
The door next to the fireplace swung. Greyhounds, like the ones who mauled those men in the arena, growled and barked, their leashes straining against a post as the king and prince entered the room. Jori gave me a reassuring smile while closing the doors, dampening the dogs’ relentless fury.
I could guess what they’d served at dinner tonight from the bread crumbs and crusted stew on the front of the king’s red robes. His gold crown had been removed, but there was a ghost band on his forehead as if it was still there. The air stiffened with his mere presence. My stomach tightened as he approached. This man had no regard for life. Unless I could wield the moonlight, impress the king with a magical act, Xavier would be put to death.
Xavier bowed for the king in grand fashion. I gave a slight curtsy, hoping not to fall over. Bradyn entered, bringing a tray with a single glass and a pitcher of ale. He set it down on the table and turned to leave, but the king called him back.
“Taste that ale. Remain here too in case I need more. Curse your cousins’ spirits for your added work.”
Bradyn poured a full cup, raising it as if toasting their graves, then drank half of it down before using his sleeve to catch the overspill. “I feel fine, Your Majesty.”