Would I be asking if I knew? I thought a bit dryly, but I shook my head in answer instead of voicing it.
“You can reach the throne room on your own and descend the stairs—”
“Stairs?” I frowned. When I’d gone to the throne room before, there’d been no stairs.
The woman’s lips tightened and she inhaled sharply. “Which court are you from?” she asked.
“Th-the Court of Crimson,” I stuttered. My spine straightened. Oh no. Oh no. The stutter had totally messed me up. She’d be able to tell I was lying. I mean, I wasn’t technically lying, but she’d be able to tell something was wrong and then she’d tell the Queens—the ones who hated me—not that I had any other Queens who even knew of my existence or anything, but she’d say something to them and then they would order me tortured or killed or—
“Well, I don’t know how you do things in the Court of Crimson,” she said, cutting off my internal panic. “But here, when there is an event such as the Feast of Beasts, the Queens widen and deepen the throne room. It’s illusion magic, nothing more. Everything will look and feel different though. There will be a wide staircase when you enter. It’s essentially for presentation. You can go to the top of it and descend. Your attendant should be waiting there.”
“Oh.” I blinked. “Thanks.”
She shrugged. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”
“What?” I reached for her and grabbed her arm as she turned to go a second time. Once more, she pivoted back and it was obvious from her expression that she was growing tired of me. Well, too bad, I thought. You couldn’t just drop a vague comment like that and keep walking. “What did you mean by that?” I demanded.
Her brows rose. “Do you really not know?” she asked.
“Would I ask if I did?” I snapped.
She shook her head. “Ariana and the Crimson Queen don’t like you,” she said.
“Oh, that.” I waved my hand. “I’m not worried about Ariana.” I released her, only to be stopped as she grabbed onto me.
“You should be,” she said, her tone urgent. “Ariana is and always has been the Crimson Queen’s chosen favorite. She’s warmed Prince Roan’s bed ever since his last fiancée—” She stopped herself, gasping. Her hand released me to slap over her mouth.
“I know about his last fiancée,” I said and, almost immediately, she sighed in relief.
The woman leaned closer, her hand dropping away. “After that scandal, the Crimson Queen chose Ariana as his future bride. He never proposed, but they were all but engaged.”
Irritated, I stepped away. “And now they’re not,” I pointed out. A feeling of possessiveness stole over me. It wasn’t a natural feeling for me. In fact, it was confusing, but I couldn’t stop it. The thought of Roan with anyone else—especially with Ariana—lit a fire in my blood.
“Yes, well,” she coughed delicately, shooting me a sympathetic glance, “just a warning. The Crimson Queen usually gets what she wants. She does whatever she deems necessary to achieve her goals, and right now, you’re a major obstacle. All I’m saying is that you should take care. Not everyone in this court is your friend.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked. It seemed odd that she would tell me about having no friends and this is exactly what a friend would do—warn me.
She shrugged. “Just advice from one outsider to another.”
“Outsider?” I repeated, more confusion filling me as my angry possessiveness faded.
She looked away. “I’m from a lesser court,” she admitted quietly. “One that perished several years ago. I’ve never truly fit in.”
I moved closer. “Can you tell me,” I began, “does the Frost Queen have any say over the Crimson Queen’s actions?”
“If it doesn't affect her, then the Frost Queen generally doesn't care. The second it does, however”—she cast me a hard look—“she'll act, and I promise you, you don’t want that to happen.” With that, she turned and left, and it was only moments later that I realized I never even got her name.
At least I’d gotten some information though, I thought as I waited another moment and then followed in the direction she’d gone. The laughter and chatter and music grew louder as I approached the throne room entryway. I paused just before I stepped through the doorway, wiping my hands down the sides of my dress.
I closed my eyes and stepped into the light, freezing as several eyes landed on me at once. I scanned the room, noting the differences. The woman had been right. The whole room had been changed. Columns circled the room, making it appear larger and more circular rather than the plain square it’d been earlier. Ivy dangled from the ceiling—a ceiling I couldn’t see through a mass of fog that collected at it. More greenery was draped over every available surface, even twining around the columns, lending a more natural feel to the room. So this was illusion magic. Nice.
Reaching down, I fisted the front of my dress and dragged it up as I descended the staircase. Don’t fall. Don’t fall. Don’t you dare fucking fall. I reiterated the words over and over in my head, hoping that if I thought them hard or loud enough that it would stop any clumsiness from happening. By some miracle of miracles, it worked! I reached the bottom of the staircase without tripping or falling or breaking my neck.
I found Sorrell several paces away and approached. He appeared distant, as if he were deep in thought. “Sorrell?” I said, calling attention to myself.
His gaze cleared and he jerked his head down, freezing as his lips parted. Nothing. He said absolutely nothing. Instead, he gaped at me. It was almost … cute, his shock. I smiled and his eyes widened even further. Well, I hadn’t expected this reaction, but it was nice nonetheless. He spent so much time hating me and I spent so much time finding him to be a pompous asshole, that the silence from him was a bit of a reprieve.
Still, I found my eyes trailing down to take him in as he did the same to me. His muscular legs were wrapped in black trousers and knee high riding boots that made him look like he was going to go on a hunt rather than to a ball. A pale, icy blue doublet with black filigree was stretched over his broad chest. The black leather that edged the bottom and the shoulders gleamed in the light. His mask was a pale silver, reminding me of a ray of moonlight cast across his face.
When my eyes lifted and met his once more, he cleared his throat. “Cress,” he said gruffly. I shivered. He didn’t ever say my name—well, rarely, anyway. It sounded different coming from him, especially in this setting. “Are you ready?” he asked.
Was I ready? Not even in the slightest. But when he held his hand out, I knew there was no way I could say no.
Chapter 19
Sorrell
Fae were fools for glittering things. Gems and jewels. Pretty feathers. Baubles of all shapes and sizes. Especially the females—they went head over heels for this kind of ridiculous spectacle. My head throbbed and pounded as I took in the scenery before me. There was more silk and lace and skin than practical wear. And here I was, standing at the edge of the room, waiting for my … companion. I grimaced at the thought.