“They have to be here,” I whispered under my breath as I watched the nearest man. He looked heavenly in a green suit with a black cloak, but I searched for any hint of malcontent in the way he moved or skirted the room with his eyes. He could be one of Allemar’s apprentices. Then I saw his gaze rest longingly on the banquet table full of finger foods.
Eh. Probably not.
“Excuse me,” Sorek mumbled as he shuffled past me in the cramped storage room. It was all we were given as a staging area for all the props and performers needed for tonight’s performances.
Bravado paced the floor while Humperstink scrambled around gathering up the basket of spilled juggling balls.
“Why are they acting this way?” I asked Bravado, watching as the princess with dark red hair waved off a handsome suitor. She didn’t seem interested at all in any of the attention bestowed on her, but it didn’t deter him.
“The king has no male heirs.” Bravado was watching the same thing I was. Men strutting about like peacocks trying to impress the young ladies who didn’t even seem interested.
I frowned as I quickly counted out each of the daughters. With them having three different mothers, their looks varied from blonde to brunette, and two had red hair. “Well, wouldn't Princess Analisa be first in line for the throne as the oldest?” I asked, angling my chin to the tall brunette in a red dress.
“You would assume, but again, that’s not how the law of ascension works in Sion. King Leonel is determined it must go to a male, and since he was cursed to bear no sons, it has been a bit of a stalemate.” Bravado’s mouth went up in a smirk. “Cursed by your mother, by the way. It will have to go to the next in line for the throne.”
I hadn’t kept up with the lineage of the king of Sion, unlike my other sisters, who treated royal gossip like it was dessert. “Which is . . .” I tried to think of the various landholders, and how they were related to the king.
“Lord Rasmen,” Bravado said softly.
“But he’s—”
“Disappeared? Dead? Exactly. And the next in line with the biggest land holding is Lord Dyer.” Bravado gestured with his chin, to the man who was as tall as he was wide. Dress in red velvet and a green hat with a feather, he resembled a bloated tomato. “I can only assume that he may be next to wind up the same as Lord Rasmen.”
I watched the burly Lord Dyer waddle onto the dance floor and place himself right in front of Princess Grace, making it impossible for her current suitor to dance around him.
A few words were spoken, and the man abandoned the princess to Lord Dyer. He bowed and reached for Princess Grace’s hand and pulled her into a dance, much to her dismay. Her eyes went wide, and she kept craning her neck, looking for someone to help.
Grace’s dark curls were pinned up with pearl pins, and her soft green off-the-shoulder dress made her look young, but I suspected she was around the same age as me.
Bravado twitched his mustache and pointed to Princess Grace. “Have you noticed that the one in the green dress looks a lot like—”
“Me,” I finished. “I know.”
“How odd. Now I understand your choice of attire. It would definitely draw unwanted attention.”
I adjusted the silk ties on the mask, making sure it wouldn’t slip down my face during my performance.
Bravado moved away from the door and was back to pacing a wear pattern in the fancy rug. He began going over the order of performances, which included jesters, more acrobatic tumbling, and ending with my aerial silk routine.
I waited until there was a lull in the orchestra music, then Bravado pointed to me. “It’s time.”
I pulled at the bottom of the skimpy leotard and grinned in triumph knowing Amaryllis couldn’t slap my hand away. I knew I was a mesmerizing sight. Dressed in silver and blue, my silver-painted mask was adorned with small clear crystals gently glued around the eyes. Even my nails were painted blue.
I took a deep breath, cocked my hip to the side, and raised my chin. It was time to become someone I was not. I rose to my tiptoes and walked barefoot across the hall on the arm of Bravado.
“You really did well during the parade,” Bravado whispered under his breath.
“I was fighting my enemies,” I said, smiling as the crowd parted before allowing us inside the grand ballroom. All eyes were on us as we stepped to the center of the room. I could either tremble beneath the scrutiny or use it to my advantage.
“There are plenty of enemies to slay in this room,” Bravado chuckled. “Knock ’em dead.” Bravado motioned to the drummer, who began a drumroll. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a stunning performance for your enjoyment tonight,” Bravado called out, his voice raising to a crescendo. With a twirl, he released me, and I spun, lifting my hands, trying to be as graceful as I could, and then slowed in the direct center of the room.
He nodded to the palace servants, and they snuffed out the candelabras and lowering the chandeliers, casting the room into darkness.
Gasps of surprise followed, and I smiled as the flutist from the troupe began a well-known song. One that I had practiced a routine to.
The silk drop into my hands and quickly I climbed up, as if I was scaling the vines on the cliffs of Craeton. Silent and with purpose, I counted down how long I had as I prepared myself. Bravado snapped his fingers and the glass chimes that hung from the ceiling came to life, illuminating the silver tones of my leotard as I hung suspended thirty feet in the air, silk wrapped around only one arm.
More gasps of surprise followed when Sorek stepped onto the floor, grasped the silk, and began to spin me. I arched my back, elongated my arm, and looked up at the ceiling as we went faster and faster. I closed my eyes and focused on riding out the wave until he slowed.
Now came the next part of the show, where I formed knots and swung as if on a swing. Then I wrapped them around my feet and ankles, balanced in the air, slowly lowering myself into the splits, while grasping the silks with my hands.
With each stunt, I could hear the princesses gasp, and the danger of what I was doing only fueled the adrenaline within me. I wanted to do more. Crazier stunts and faster. I slipped down the silks to the floor, wrapped them around my upper arms, and took off running in a circle to the closest edge of the crowd, which quickly backed up when they saw what I was doing. I leapt into the air and flew like a butterfly, my toes pointed, the red silks flowing behind my back.
I laughed as I touched down again and ran faster, as the desire to fly higher overcame me. As I passed an intimidating group of men, I felt my stomach drop. It was the southern elves. Dressed in midnight jewel tones, they were just on the edges of the shadow, not lit by the enchanted glass circle of Bravado’s magic, which created a lit ring on the white marble floor. As I took a second pass and flew near the elves, I felt a pang. A familiar warning of danger.
I slowed, tiptoeing to the center, my heart racing as I stared out into the sea of shadowy faces. My gut was telling me danger, but I didn’t know what or where the threat was coming from.
I stalled in the middle of the floor, scanning the room, my chest rising with each panicked breath. Something was wrong. I caught the barest glimmer. Someone was using glamour magic and hiding among the crowd.
Was I being paranoid?
Then another flicker and I saw the tapestry move, and I sighed. It was only the house-elves. The fae were using their magic to keep out of sight.