CHAPTER SIX Sev

The first thing that Faris presented to me was a thin book she’d somehow kept hidden in her robes. “This is a list of the current nobles and royals in residence at court. You’ll need to have it memorized by tonight.”

“This is your idea of helping me? I thought you were going to tell me what to say in order to avoid a messy public death.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Prince Vesper,” she said.

“Severin,” I corrected. I hadn’t been Vesper in years—first out of necessity, then out of comfort. Vesper had been an innocent, and a child. Time had killed both.

Faris nodded. “Very well. If you expect to be taken seriously at this court, Severin, you will have to be able to recognize your peers, both friends and enemies. And I hope you remember the etiquette lessons you were taught growing up, because I cannot help you there.”

I picked up the book and grudgingly flipped it open. Antuan, Camden, Donovan, Annick… A long list of names stared back at me, most of which I didn’t know. At least there were markings denoting which houses each of the lords belonged to.

“Fine, I’ll look at it,” I said, closing the book. “Now, about the speech.”

Faris arched an eyebrow and looked pointedly at the book.

“It can’t be particularly entertaining for you to watch me read a list,” I pointed out.

“If I don’t watch you do it, then how do I know you did it at all?” Faris countered.

I rolled my eyes. “Consider the idea that I value my life at least as much as you value yours. I’ll look at the list. Later.”

“Very well,” she said. “The speech. What do you want to know?”

I leaned forward. “I haven’t been to Irrad since I was a child. I know of the emperor more than I know the emperor himself. What do I say to him?”

“Truthfully?”

I nodded.

“It matters very little whether the emperor believes your words, because he won’t. You both know the bargain you made to stay alive. He knows that however well you play your loyalty, it is not freely given or sincere. Even the nobility will suspect you of putting on a show—it’s no more than most of them do, after all. I doubt there’s a person in court who truly loves the Flame.”

Her candor continued to surprise me, though I’d suspected as much. But if I wasn’t meant to convince the emperor or the nobility, then who? Suddenly I realized, and I was embarrassed that it hadn’t been obvious to me. “The act is for the commoners.”

“Yes. You’re the shadow prince, the symbol of rebellion. Your words must be believable enough to spread outside these walls—to convince those who listen that you have been properly cowed.”

I sat back. What could I say that would be believed? Despite the fact that I had just slept, my head felt extraordinarily heavy.

Sunlight, greenery, blue sky—I’m in a field, an insect buzzing lazily by my ear. In the distance a farmhouse—I turn my head and see Maren, her face intent—her eyes widen as she looks at me—she jerks away, then—

“Are you listening?”

I started upright, blinking my eyes as the light dissipated and I was left once again in this dim office. What was that?

“Severin,” Faris said, impatient.

“Sorry, I was distracted,” I said hastily.

“Then pay attention. Think. Is there anyone in court who will remember you from before? Those will be the hardest to win over.”

“Maybe,” I said slowly, though my mind was racing. Had that been a dream? A hallucination? It had felt so real.

“So keep your story simple. You’ve been at large for many years, and now you’ve returned as a loyal subject to oversee Ruzi on the emperor’s behalf. They will see through a half-hearted act, so throw in some theatrics. Make a flowery speech. There are more stories about your exploits than I can keep track of—make some up that don’t involve acting against the Flame. Fall to your knees. Consider crying, some hand wringing. Kissing the emperor’s robes usually goes over well.”

I had never thought I would have difficulty selling a lie. But it seemed such a foreign thing, to swallow my hatred when I looked at the emperor’s face. To keep the white-hot rage that burned inside me at bay.

“I’m not sure I can.”

Faris crossed her arms. “If you aren’t equal to this task, you may as well present your neck to the swordsman now. Come on. You were young and impressionable. You’re a prince. What were you doing, allying yourself with rebels? Was it the lure of fortune elsewhere? Were you confused by their propaganda? Make me believe that you were led astray… and that you found your way back to the embrace of our great empire.”

I frowned. Once I had believed that Zefed was a great empire. I’d been a child of privilege. Before my family had been killed, I’d had no reason to think otherwise.

I shook off the thought, turning back to the task at hand. “When I was young, I strayed from the guidance of the empire,” I said slowly. “I was lost. I was… under influences that led me down a dark path.”

“That’s a start,” Faris said approvingly. “I’ll leave you to it.” She set down a piece of paper and pen on the table between us. “You can use that to organize your thoughts. And don’t think of spiriting those away—I will be collecting them when I return. You have one hour.”

And then I was alone again.

Time was short, and my survival—and Maren’s—depended on the performance I was to give this evening. I should have been using my time to compose, to structure and restructure every sentence until it rang with sincerity. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the way Maren’s face had flashed before me, how she’d seemed to look right at me. The vision had lasted only a few seconds, but it was like a window had somehow opened to wherever she was.

I waited a few moments to see if another vision would come to me. When it didn’t, I sighed. Whatever it was, I had to set it aside. I opened the book that Faris had given me and skimmed over it. My eyes snagged on a familiar name—Idai, ruler of Eronne. They were the only one of the small kings currently in residence, and the one I was least prepared to see. I cursed under my breath, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it now. I read on.

Out of all the nobility, there were only two lords representing Oskiath in residence. I took note of their names. Perhaps I could get a message through one of them to the Dragons. If they knew I had survived, knew where I was, they would come for me. I hoped.

Of course, that necessitated having something with which to pass a message, and Faris had told me she would collect the pen and paper when she returned. Given her attention to detail, it seemed unlikely I would get away with ripping off part of the paper. Any plan for escape first depended on surviving this court appearance. So I took up the pen, giving thanks that my dominant hand hadn’t been the one injured, and began to write.

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When the trumpets called us to supper, Faris and I were escorted to the great hall by no fewer than five guards. I might have laughed if the situation hadn’t seemed so bleak. I could forget passing secret messages—right now, it seemed impossible that I would be able to do so much as sneeze without being observed.

The guards fell back as we reached the hall, leaving only Faris at my side. She nodded to the pages, who stopped staring upon her instruction and pulled open the heavy doors. I took a deep breath and walked into a world that was startlingly familiar.

There had been music and loud, bright chatter as the doors opened. But now, as I entered, the music abruptly cut off. The doors closed behind me, and then the only sound was my footsteps.

The floor of the hall was made of inky black stones polished to a glassy shine—easy to slip, if you weren’t paying attention. The chamber was crowded with representatives from the four other kingdoms of Zefed, members of each royal family, Talons, Aurati, servants, all with their eyes on me.

My father had walked this floor before me, as had my brother. The thought gave me strength as I looked straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with those who fell out of my path, leaving a clear line between me and the silver throne. The emperor sat there, arrayed in robes of shimmering gems that caught the light and reflected it, making it difficult to look at him head-on.

I climbed the stairs to the throne. I stood before the emperor of Zefed, my head high.

Our eyes met, and he raised his eyebrows. My stomach clenched, sending a wave of nausea through my body, but I had to see this through.

Kneel. You must kneel.

My legs bent. I knelt.

“Emperor of Zefed,” I ground out, every word a curse against my family. “I am Severin Avidal, prince of Ruzi. I come to pledge my fealty.” I could feel the eyes on me, though I kept my head bowed, staring at the floor.

“When you last saw me, I was Prince Vesper—in my youthful ignorance I was swayed when rebels filled my ears with lies. I strayed from the guidance of the empire, and became lost.” I took a deep breath. “I have seen the error of my ways, and beg for mercy. If I am allowed, I would redeem myself in your eyes a thousandfold before I die.”

I could hear the nobles behind me murmuring, their fans undoubtedly masking their words. That the emperor had brought the shadow prince of Ruzi, his greatest enemy, to kneel before him…

I was a spectacle. I closed my eyes. My father had been poisoned for the reforms he had tried to enact. My brother had led an army against the Flame and been burned to death by Talons. I hadn’t seen either of them die, but my mother… How they all would have despised what I was doing now.

This would not last, I reminded myself. One day he would be dead at my hand.

Part of me waited for a blade to fall, waited for my life to reach the end of its short tether. But instead, Rafael’s voice pitched loudly enough to echo through the hall. “Rise.”

I got to my feet, and the emperor stood, opening his arms wide. He continued. “Let no one say that the emperor of Zefed is without mercy. All the children of Zefed are my children, as I am the father of the empire. Severin has returned after so many years away, and because he has pledged his loyalty, I have pardoned him. For pardon is possible for anyone who repents in earnest.”

He was a monster in the shape of a man. He had destroyed my family, and so many others. He had made me a liar. And yet he spoke of repentance, and when he let his hand fall, the applause that followed was crushing.

“Thank you, my lord.” Expressing gratitude to the tyrant felt like vomiting molten glass, but I did it, and I bowed until he bade me rise and raised his hand, allowing me to leave.

I kept my head down and backed slowly away from him, not turning until I had reached the bottom of the stairs. The music started up again.

“That was well done,” Faris murmured in my ear.

“According to whom?” I said.

“You did what you had to do. You confirmed the emperor’s story. What more needs to be said?”

I shrugged. There was nothing else I could say. Those minutes spent kneeling at the emperor’s feet had been the longest of my life. I didn’t know what I had expected, but the aftermath was anticlimactic in comparison. One of the servants poured me a glass of wine, which I held mostly to give my good hand something to do.

Now that I was past my own performance, I could spare some attention for my surroundings. The walls were hung with intricate tapestries, each featuring the emperor’s colors. Peacocks roamed the floor, unsupervised. The tables were spread with more food than a gathering five times this size could hope to consume. I thought of the people I’d seen on the road in Zefed, the fields stripped to feed the growing armies of the empire. How much of that food had come here instead? And the clothes the courtiers were wearing! I was no expert on fabric, but these dresses and tunics were clearly custom designed and very expensive. Some of the embroidered silks would have taken weeks, if not months, to perfect. And jewels were everywhere—in earrings and nose rings, sewn into coats and dresses, winking on fingers and in headdresses.

I was suddenly aware of how dark my own clothing was in comparison, its austerity marking me as an outsider and captive as obviously as chains around my wrists would have.

The emperor would never give me jewels—I could too easily use them for bribes. I had never been one for show, anyway. As a child I’d been quiet, more attached to books and animals than the latest court intrigue. Being a second son I should have been sent to train as a Talon. But my father had defied the emperor in keeping me in Ruzi.

I still couldn’t imagine the excuses he’d made or the leverage he’d used to keep me safe at home. Rafael’s father had been the emperor back then. He’d been old at the time, and ailing. Perhaps he’d been thinking more about his own family, his own legacy. Perhaps that’s why my family had been able to hide their treason for so long.

I took a sip of my wine and turned my attention back to the food. I needed to eat, no matter what I thought of this wretched excess. Faris stayed at my elbow as I set down my glass and picked my way down the table, nibbling on bread and cheese and pocketing some fruit. I picked up a fork and speared a slice of seasoned meat that had been cut from a large roast, and was searching for a plate to put it on when I looked up into a pair of familiar eyes.

Neve stood on the other side of the table. I schooled my body into indifference and looked away, mindful of the shadow standing just behind me.

I hadn’t seen the emperor’s Aromatory since before fleeing the dragon fortress with Maren and the dragon egg. Despite the fact that Neve’s abilities had been key to my original plan, we had never exchanged more than a few words. It had been pure chance that I had gained Maren’s trust instead. But now Neve was here, in Irrad, and her presence was as strange and confusing to me as my own.

The emperor’s dragon trainer remained with the dragons. And there were more than a few hatchlings that needed supervision at the moment, and more oils to be distilled—so what was she doing here?

I dared another glance at Neve, and our eyes met again. Her lips thinned, and she looked as though she wanted to say something. But then her eyes flicked to Faris behind me, and she inclined her head ever so slightly in my direction before turning away and continuing down the table, away from us.

The corner of my mouth turned up as I found a plate for my food. The encounter, despite its brevity, gave me more than a small amount of comfort. Neve remembered me. Neve wanted to talk to me—I was sure of it—just not in front of one of Rafael’s spies.

“Prince Severin.”

I turned to see a slight young woman standing before me, a predatory gleam in her eyes. I bowed, trying to buy myself time. I’d done my best with the book Faris had given me, but I could not name this woman. Her coloring was of Old Zefed, and her clothing was fashionable but lacked any indication of familial ties. Who was she?

“You must allow me to congratulate you. Your speech—I must say, it brought tears to my eyes to hear you speak your loyalty to the Flame.”

I straightened and cut a desperate glance to Faris. Help.

“Erris,” Faris jumped in. “How nice to see you looking so well after your indisposition.”

Erris! She was of Eronne—not noble, but her family was extremely wealthy. The lady in question flushed slightly. “Thank you—it was nothing.” She laid a proprietary hand on my sleeve. “I want you to know that I would never dream of spurning a loyal servant of the empire over a youthful indiscretion. The Flame of the West has pardoned you, and that is the highest commendation one can receive.”

It was difficult to believe she wasn’t joking, and yet she stood before me, eager and intent. “Thank you,” I said after a moment. “I appreciate your support.”

“I hope you aren’t thinking of returning to Ruzi too soon. Irrad has become so boring recently.”

Hang me now—she’s a leech. It had been so long since I’d been in court—there was so much I’d forgotten. I’d been young enough to avoid such attentions, but Callum had complained long and loud about individuals like Erris. I smiled at her, trying to look genuine. “I’m in Irrad for the foreseeable future. And you? How long have you been at court?”

“Practically my whole life,” Erris said. “My father was good friends with the emperor’s father, may he live on in everlasting flame. But enough about that! You’ll pardon me for asking, but we’ve all been dying to know—were you at Lumina? Did you see the dragon?”

What should I say? I glanced at Faris, but she only frowned. “I—”

“That’s hardly an appropriate topic for tonight’s festivities,” a young man cut in smoothly. He was dressed in Kyseal colors, his long hair tied stylishly back. “Prince Severin. Welcome back,” he said, bowing perfunctorily to me.

I flipped through my mental notes on those in residence from Kyseal. “Lord Annick,” I replied, inclining my head.

He turned to Erris. “You promised me a game of alabac.”

Erris pouted but didn’t argue. “Join us?” she asked me.

“Perhaps next time,” I said, holding up my food as an excuse. “Very nice to meet you both.”

Lord Annick put a hand on Erris’s elbow, steering her away, and Faris and I were alone again.

“You didn’t need my help after all,” Faris remarked.

“On the contrary. I would have had to grovel indeed if I slighted the richest family in Eronne,” I muttered. “You saved me.”

Faris let out a bark of laughter.

“Why was Annick so quick to interfere when Erris asked about Lumina?” I said.

She sobered instantly. “Most of what’s reached Irrad is rumor, not fact. All the city is curious, but no one dares draw the emperor’s attention by speaking of it too loudly. Erris forgot her place.” She turned to face the center of the hall. “Enough of that, now. Who else do you not recognize? Let’s see if we can refresh your memory before you actually have to speak with any of them.”

We hung back from the crowd, and I ate slowly, trying to match the people I saw to the names from Faris’s book. She offered corrections from time to time, but as the evening passed, it became easier to sort those around us into their families and positions. I didn’t see Idai, and was thankful for the reprieve.

There were a few diversions that seemed to be regular features of entertainment at the court. A fleet of trained dogs was brought to perform, followed by human dancers—all this while the emperor watched from his throne. Something happened with the peacocks that I couldn’t quite see, as I kept to the side of the room. My gaze wandered, and then settled on a large man standing near the emperor’s throne. I’d never seen him before, and I was almost certain his name hadn’t appeared in Faris’s booklet.

“Who is that?” I asked Faris, nodding in his direction.

“Milek, the Alchemist,” she murmured in my ear. “He is developing a new method for training the dragons.”

“Different from the oils?” I blurted, surprised. There was no other way of training dragons that I knew of. Even Maren didn’t train them—her way with the dragon kit was more like communing.

Faris hesitated. “The particulars remain secret.”

A shiver ran down my spine. So Neve had displeased the emperor, and he was replacing her. It was likely she was still alive only because the new techniques weren’t yet effective. Which meant that Neve and I had an enemy in common—and that her days were numbered. Maybe that was something I could use to my advantage.

Eventually the music shifted from pleasant background ambience into a driving beat that I recognized as one of the current dances in Oskiath.

The emperor finally rose, and I craned my neck to watch. If he was going to lead the dance, I needed to know who his partner was. I knew there was an empress—had been for several years—but she had been kept behind the scenes, and I had been too preoccupied with my own plans to make inquiries.

He held out his hand, and a woman wearing a deep red gown emerged from the audience. An ornate crown sat atop her dark hair, which was held back from her face in a silver net. She took the emperor’s outstretched hand, and there was something familiar about the way she curtsied to him. The emperor bowed back.

As they turned to face the assembly, my heart stopped.

Piera.