The footman led to the first floor and into a dining room where gaslights glinted in sconces and in a massive crystal chandelier. Wine-colored velvet upholstered the sofas and chairs, and gold and green rugs complemented the plush furniture. The colors set a somber atmosphere, especially when compared to the riotous colors of the room in which the empress had first greeted me.
“Good evening,” said Otokar, who strode forward as we entered. He wore his usual dark robes, although silver embroidery embellished the hem and lapel in swirling symbols. Gemstone rings sparkled on his fingers. His hair lay in smooth waves as though recently combed, and he smelled vaguely of juniper. Yet a current of anxiousness buzzed around him like static electricity. His dark eyes seemed deeper set and more hollow than usual.
“Did you find anything with your, um, spells?” I asked.
His answer was a whisper. “Nothing yet.” His gaze slipped over me from head to toe before he met my eyes. “Nonetheless, the royal wheels cannot afford to stop turning, even for familial complications.” His attention shifted to Gideon, and his eyes seemed to darken. “You are most enchanting this evening, Evie, and your companion cuts a striking figure as well.”
I smiled at Gideon, who scowled at me and ignored Otokar’s compliment. “Doesn’t he? I’m thinking of ordering him to wear a uniform all the time. It suits him more than I would have thought.”
Gideon’s scowl deepened. Otokar chuckled and pointed to a footman bearing a tray of tall, stemmed glasses. “Champagne?”
The thought of drinking anything alcoholic turned my stomach, but I needed something to ease the dryness in my throat. “Water?”
Otokar turned to my companion. “Wine for you?”
Gideon shook his head. “I think it’s best if I keep a clear head, tonight.”
“Tonight, we are not working. We are pretending to enjoy ourselves.” The Magician crooked a finger at the servant, who trotted over dutifully and leaned in to hear Otokar’s whispered request.
“I am sworn to protect Evie,” Gideon said without a hint of humor. “That’s a duty I can’t afford to surrender for an evening of amusement. Especially not after Karolina’s disappearance.”
The Magician’s smile faded, but he made no reply. The servant returned with a glass of water for me, and I sipped it until the burn in my throat diminished. “Are the empress’s guests here yet?” I asked.
Otokar nodded. “They arrived earlier this afternoon. I cannot imagine what has been keeping—”
Voices raised in loud conversation interrupted his statement, and we turned toward the doorway as a boisterous group spilled into the room. A short, stout man led the pack. Round spectacles balanced on his nose, and a bushy white mustache and sideburns overwhelmed his mousey features. A bright-red sash cut diagonally across his blue brocade coat, and I wondered what the accessory signified.
Behind him trailed an older woman in gray silk, and at her side was a young lady not much older than me. She wore a dark dress cut in a modest style, and she’d twisted her hair in a rather severe knot. When the stout, mustachioed fellow saw us, a smile broke over his face. The white hairs beneath his nose quivered like an excited caterpillar. “Otokar, quel plaisir de te revoir!”
Of course he spoke Gallandic. I sighed and silently cursed myself, and my father, for the shortcomings of my education. He’d spoiled me too much. I’d adored him for it, of course, but now he’s gone, and I’m left struggling with things I should have learned as a right of birth.
Gideon eased closer and put his lips close to my ear. “They’re simply greeting each other. You’re not missing anything.”
I harrumphed. “I’m missing the fact that I don’t have a better education.”
“I’ll teach you, if you like. It’ll be a good way to pass the evenings, now that we have some leisure time.”
Otokar must have caught onto my discomfort. “For the sake of our guests,” he said in Dreutchish, “we should find some common ground. Lord Clément Moreau, Comté de Montigny,”—the Magician motioned to the stout dignitary—“it is my pleasure to introduce you to Evelyn Stormboune, Lady of Thunder and Crown Princess of Inselgrau.”
Montigny faced me and bowed. I returned a curtsey. “Pleasure to meet you, my lord.”
“S'il vous plait...” He caught himself, cleared his throat, and switched languages. “Please call me Clément.” A heavy accent flavored his words. Still, I understood him, and he understood me, and a great weight lifted from my shoulders. Perhaps I’d survive the evening without appearing like a complete dunce, after all.
“Pleasure to meet you,” I said.
“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Thunder.” The comté turned to the other members of his party and introduced the older woman, Deline, as his wife, the comtesse.
At her side, the quiet and indistinct young woman who had come in with the group curtsied, but her cold blue eyes never left mine, and I bristled at her impertinence. “Vanessa Furnier,” she said. “I am the comté’s attaché.”
I stepped closer to my companion. “This is Gideon Faust, my personal guard, and a dear friend.”
“We have heard of the troubles your kingdom recently suffered,” Clément said as he smoothed a finger over his bushy mustache. “But you look very well, considering.”
I clenched my jaw, forcing a smile. “Yes, considering.” The irony of his statement rubbed me like a rough seam in a saddle. He’d likely made assumptions about me based on limited and out-of-date information. He couldn’t have known how many times I’d faced and overcome captivity, slavery, and death.
“And what are your plans, now, Lady Thunder? Will you return to your kingdom and reclaim your throne?” An undercurrent of condescension ran through his words.
I drew myself up as straight as possible and attempted to stare down my nose at him, although we stood nearly eye-to-eye. Several sharp retorts came to mind, but I reached for diplomacy, despite the bitter taste of the words. “Thank you for your concern. Indeed, I do plan to go home.”
“Soon?”
“When the time is right.”
“Well, you have started in the right place if you are recruiting allies. The empress is a mighty friend to have at your side.”
Was that how it appeared—that I’d come to Bonhemm, to Prigha Castle, to recruit allies? From a certain perspective, it might seem so. What would he say if I told him I’d been living with rats only days ago, and Tereza had, in fact, recruited me?
“She owes me no favors. Instead, I think it’s me who’s in the empress’s debt.”
The comté cocked a single wooly eyebrow. “And do you think that is not exactly what she intends?”
The empress’s grand arrival saved me from having to answer. Křisnová Tereza Jagiellon, the sovereign ruler of Bonhemm, strode into the room with all the confidence and poise of a young woman born, raised, and trained for her crown.
Oh, how I envied her—her surety, her purpose, her utter lack of fear.
We all bent low, dignitaries and servants alike, bowing until our backs popped and groaned. I trained my gaze on the hem of Tereza’s sparkling gown, a silver affair that caught the lamplights as if she wore hundreds of tiny prisms. Her pale olive complexion glowed, and a delicate diamond diadem accented the dark curls piled atop her head. My previous self-grandeur drained away, and I felt rather like a bluebird trying to hold her own against a peacock. Again, as if reading my thoughts, Gideon’s hand pressed against the base of my spine, and his proximity and warmth reassured me.
Tereza’s gaze flittered over her newest guests before settling on me. Although she did not smile, she nodded in acknowledgement as she floated toward me. Any concerns she might have felt for her missing sister remained locked beneath her impassive expression. “Evie,” she said, respect evident in her tone. “My goodness, you look like a queen tonight.” Her dark eyes shifted to Gideon, and she arched an eyebrow. “Do you not agree, my handsome chevalier?”
