My personal crest as Everleigh Saffira Winter Blair, the queen of Bellona.
A crown-of-shards crest was also stitched in silver thread on my blue tunic, right over my heart, and I had several actual crowns that boasted the same design, although I hadn’t worn any of them this evening, since I was trying to be incognito. Plus, I always worried about a crown falling off my head, especially when I was doing something as vigorous as Xenia’s dance training.
I had rolled up my sleeves to better track my arm movements during the lesson, and I slid them down, hiding the bracelets. I also grabbed a midnight-blue cloak and settled it around my shoulders, making sure the fabric covered the crown-of-shards crest on my tunic.
“Wish us luck,” I said to Xenia.
“No.”
“No? What do you mean no?”
Xenia shrugged. “Luck is a pointless expression and a silly sentiment. You work hard, and you train, and you prepare. Luck has nothing to do with your success or failure.”
Paloma nodded her agreement. Traitor. I glared at my friend, but she shrugged at me much the same way Xenia had. “She’s right. Luck is for fools and children.”
“You’re no fun either.”
Paloma shrugged again. “I’m not here to be fun,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone that I both admired and hated. “I’m here to keep you alive.”
I sighed, knowing I couldn’t win with either one of them. “Well, then, let’s get on with it.”
I started to head toward the open doors, but Xenia raised her hand, stopping me.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for, Evie,” she said in a kinder voice. “And that some part of your family has survived.”
A sad, wistful expression flickered across her face. Once again, the scent of Xenia’s ashy heartbreak filled my nose, and she leaned on her cane a little more heavily than before, as if she really did need its support.
“Thank you,” I said in a soft voice.
She shrugged, then snapped up her cane and stabbed me in the arm with it. “But no matter what happens tonight, I expect you back here at the same time tomorrow for your next lesson.”
Paloma snickered, and Xenia whipped around and poked the younger woman with her cane just like she had me.
“And you too,” she ordered. “Even if you don’t know anything about your heritage, you can still learn the dances.”
Paloma opened her mouth to argue, but Xenia stared her down, and my friend sighed. “Yes, my lady.”
Xenia nodded in satisfaction and strolled away, tap-tap-tapping her cane on the floor.
I slung my arm around Paloma’s shoulders. “Looks like I have a new dancing partner. Just think. This time tomorrow, Xenia will be stabbing you with her bloody cane.”
My friend gave me a sour look. I laughed, and together we followed Xenia out of the dance hall.
Chapter Two
Xenia had some other business to take care of, so Paloma and I left her finishing school.
It was almost six o’clock, and the sun was slowly sinking behind the Spire Mountains that ringed the city. The December air was already quite chilly, and it would turn even colder once the last golden rays vanished behind the high, rugged peaks and took their meager warmth along with them. My nose twitched. A faint metallic scent hung in the air, indicating that it would snow later tonight.
Only a few people were walking on the side streets that flanked Xenia’s finishing school. Most had their heads down and their arms crossed over their chests, trying to stay as warm as possible in their hats, scarves, coats, and gloves, and no one gave Paloma and me a second look as we made our way over to one of the many enormous square plazas that could be found throughout Svalin.
We stood in the shadows in a narrow alley that ran between two bakeries and looked out over the plaza. Brightly painted wooden carts manned by bakers, butchers, farmers, tailors, and other merchants lined all four sides of the area, while a large gray stone fountain of two girls holding hands bubbled merrily in the center.
People of all shapes, sizes, stations, and ages moved across the gray cobblestones, going from one cart and merchant to the next and shopping for bread, meat, cheeses, and vegetables. Still more people cut through the plaza, bypassing the colorful carts and loud, squawking merchants, skirting around the gurgling fountain, and steadfastly trudging home after a long, hard day at work. Miners, mostly, wearing thick dark blue coveralls, boots, and hard, ridged helmets, all of which were coated with light gray fluorestone dust.
I opened my mouth and drew in breath after breath, letting the air roll in over my tongue and using my mutt magic to taste all the scents swirling through the plaza. Fresh warm bread and almond-sugar cookies from the bakeries next to the alley. The coppery stench of blood from the meat on the butchers’ carts. The sharp, tangy cheeses. The bits of dirt on the farmers’ sweet potatoes and other produce. The fine layers of crushed, chalky stone clinging to the miners.
I sensed all that and more, but the one thing I didn’t smell was magic.
Normally, I would have welcomed its absence. More often than not I sensed the hot, caustic stench of magic only when someone was trying to kill me. But this evening, I found the lack of power disappointing.
“I don’t like this,” Paloma muttered. “What if this rumor about another Blair is just a trick to get you out of the palace and into the city, where you’re more vulnerable? And leaving Xenia’s finishing school without any guards is just asking for trouble.”
In addition to being my best friend, Paloma was also my personal guard, a job she took very seriously.
“Coming here without any guards is part of the plan. We’re trying to blend in, remember?” I arched an eyebrow at her. “Besides, didn’t you once tell me that a gladiator and an ogre morph like yourself is worth twenty regular soldiers?”
“That was Halvar.” Paloma’s chin lifted with pride. “But he was right. I am worth twenty soldiers.”
Halvar was Xenia’s nephew and a powerful ogre morph. He and Paloma were good friends, along with Bjarni, another ogre morph. Halvar and Bjarni had also helped me more than once, and the two men were currently staying at Seven Spire palace and working with Captain Auster.
I rolled my eyes. “Well, you might get a chance to prove how many soldiers you are worth. Xenia is just as skeptical about this rumor as you are. If the two of you are right, then we’re probably going to run into trouble.”
Paloma’s eyes gleamed with anticipation, and the ogre on her neck grinned, showing off its jagged teeth. “I haven’t been in a real fight in a while.” She plucked her mace off her belt and gave it an experimental swing, making the spikes whistle through the air. “It’ll be good to get in some practice before the Regalia and knock the dust off Peony.”
It took me a moment to realize who—or rather what—she was referring to. “You named your mace Peony?”
She gave me an incredulous look, as if my question were utter gibberish. “Of course. Years ago. Haven’t you named your sword yet?”
“No.”
“Well, you should. And your dagger and shield too.”
My hand dropped to the sword belted to my waist, and my fingers traced over the crown-of-shards crest in the hilt. The sharp points of the shards digging into my skin always comforted me. The sensation reminded me of all the other Bellonan queens—especially the Winter queens—who had come before me.