Candles in glass vases hung from branches, giving the gardens a misty glow. Ladies and lords strolled the gravel paths, talking in hushed tones as if not to disturb the ambiance of the night. Valterys kept himself cloaked in shadow, mingling through the crowds, careful not to disturb anyone. Marissa’s suggestion that they attend the masque was originally met with disdain, but the temptation to be near Lliandra, to possibly learn something of her plans, swayed his opinion. If what Marissa said was true, the Eirielle would be there tonight, which only made the evening more enticing. Valterys pulled the darkness tight around him while making his way closer to the empress.
Lliandra sat in an elaborate chair—the best they could find to resemble a throne, most likely—looking stunningly regal and beautiful. Even after many seasons, she still excited him in ways no other woman could. When she bent to speak with a courtier, Valterys saw the tiny pulse flutter beneath the creamy skin of her throat. He edged closer still. Close enough that he could reach out to place his hands around her delicate neck and squeeze the life from her if he so desired.
For the briefest of moments, he allowed himself to imagine her face as she took her last breaths. A delicious warmth spread from his groin, and his fingers flexed in anticipation. Myrddin stepped beside Lliandra to whisper fervently in her ear, altogether destroying Valterys’s fantasy.
A commotion on the dance floor drew his attention and he looked up in time to see Zakael storming off with Marissa. In their wake, a striking girl, tall with golden curls and piercing blue eyes, was led away by the duke’s son. A memory seized him of a time long past when Lliandra was carefree, before her crown became a weapon, when she would smile and dance through the night. The girl he saw on the balcony with young Lord Valen could have been her twin. He had no doubt she was Lliandra’s missing child.
His daughter.
If memory served, tonight was her birthing day, and yet Lliandra did nothing to acknowledge the girl. Not even a glance or discreet wave. Whatever the woman was planning, he needed to find out.
Prince Rhoane approached Lliandra, and, to her hearing alone, told her of Marissa’s guest. Despite the mask, Zakael had been identified. The empress remained calm, but her pulse quickened ever so slightly. Myrddin was sent to find the errant princess, and then, as if nothing had happened, Lliandra rose from her chair, and held out her hand for Rhoane to take. They joined others on the dance floor, blending seamlessly into the crowd.
Valterys hurried from the ballroom and found Zakael with Marissa in the farthest corner of the garden. They argued in tense, whispered tones.
“Rhoane saw the blisters. I doubt he’ll believe my excuse of clumsiness,” Marissa hissed.
“He doesn’t know you tried to undo the wards. Act as if nothing is wrong. You’re too emotional. You must learn to control yourself.”
“Me? It was you who demanded we get near enough that you could see the girl. If not for you, we wouldn’t have been discovered.”
Valterys let the shadows fall away, and Marissa jumped at his sudden appearance. “What are you doing here?”
“Your mother has sent her watchdog after you. Perhaps you shouldn’t be seen with my son.”
Marissa’s lovely lavender eyes flashed raw anger for a moment before she inclined her head. “Thank you, my lord.” She turned to Zakael. “We will speak more of this on the morrow.” She stormed away, the gravel path crunching beneath her delicate slippers.
“Did you accomplish what you came for?” he asked Zakael.
“I would not have thought it, but by her own admission, it is the same girl as in the cavern. Blood’s oath, what a difference a gown makes.”
“Stay away from her. Get to the inn, and do not be seen. I must go see to something before we reach Talaith.”
Zakael quickly transformed into a levon, rising into the air, beating his slender wings hard to catch an updraft. He flew away from the palace toward the city.
At least the boy had the good sense to listen to his father. For once. Valterys saw the desire in Zakael’s eyes when he spoke of Taryn. The fact she was his half-sister meant nothing to him. If anything, it made her all the more enticing. Their offspring would be more powerful than any mage or sorcerer in all of Aelinae.
Valterys also changed into a levon and rose high into the air, gliding on an undercurrent while he considered the possibility of Zakael siring Taryn’s child. Rykoto would never allow it. He had plans for Taryn that didn’t include Zakael—or Valterys, for that matter.
Before the sun rose in the west, he circled above the temple. The instant his talons landed on the snow covered ground, he shook out his wings, transforming back into a man. Summer’s warm breezes never touched the frozen north, leaving this part of Aelinae perpetually in wintertide. He shivered against the cold as he entered the temple, sending flames dancing around the pillars. Next, he went to the altar and knelt, his fingertips touching the ground.
“Great lord, feel my flames, hear my words. Show me thy face that I might know your bidding.” While he spoke in the ancient tongue, tiles rose in the floor, making a labyrinth leading to a hole about the width of a gold crown. Through that tiny opening, Rykoto could stretch out to taste the world denied him.
An image of a man, black hair streaked with flames and lips of blood, appeared against the flames. “My son, what have you brought for me this night? It is midsummer and two moons shine on us.”
Damn. “My lord, it is not time for your feeding.”
Flames touched the ceiling, scorching it. “You come here without a sacrifice? My hunger knows no bounds. Be gone with you. Disturb me not until you have fulfilled my desire.”
“Great Lord Rykoto, the Eirielle has returned.”
“So my dreams were correct. I’ve sensed his presence this past moonturn. Where is he now?”
“She is with the Lady of Light in Paderau.” That Rykoto could only sense Taryn, and not even accurately, disturbed Valterys. Nadra must have concealed her well.
Rykoto’s dark eyes danced with flames. “A girl?” His forked tongue flicked over his lips, smearing blood across his chin. “How sweet she will taste.” The flames quivered against the air.
Valterys suppressed a shudder. “She will be yours, I promise this.” He placed his fist over his heart, bowing his head.
“Show her to me.” An image materialized in the fire, and Taryn’s face danced before them. Rykoto moaned in ecstasy. “My desire grows even now.” His black eyes turned on Valterys. “And my queen?”
“She looks forward to her union with you.” He worried for Marissa only a moment before casting aside his concern. It was what she wanted. She understood the risk.
“When I possess the steel of Ohlin, the milk of Nadra, and the tear of Aelinae, then you will have your prize. You will be a god with a world to command as you wish.”
Valterys could hardly breathe. His heart pumped hard against his chest, into his throat. “Thank you, Great Lord. I am ever your humble servant.” He bent and kissed the floor, feeling the heat rise from Rykoto’s prison.
The god’s face dissolved from the flames. “Fulfill my desire. Bring me the girl.”