Chapter19
Ilya
For Vespera’s feast, we dressed in her colors. I kept the tradition tonight, donning a dress the color of purple grapes, the kind we fernted into sweet red wine. The fabric gathered over either shoulder, clasped with golden pins shaped like birds, before falling down my body. I wore Lucien’s bangle on my upper arm as well, even though the tals clashed. Ornate leather sandals laced up my calves. For once, I left the Mark of Sorrena in my room. Sohow my chest felt heavier without the gleaming sapphire around my neck. Lucien wanted
to serve the emperor in truth, to be one of them. While I could never serve him in my heart, leaving behind the symbol of my city might give the impression that I could—assuming he noticed.
Per my request, the guards escorted
to Elin’s room. She braided my brown hair in a single ribbon down my back. The loose, pine-green sleeves of her dress brushed against my shoulders as she worked. Afterward, she insisted on loaning
earrings of gold and athyst similar to the pair she wore. She adored dressing up and had brought an unnecessary amount of jewels with her. She once confided that she longed for a sister to share her things with. The Four had granted her only brothers, and she had lost them in the battle for her city-state’s freedom. It ward my heart how she let
fill that wish in this horrible place.
Guards escorted us to the large lower bailey. The last rays of orange sunlight crept up the higher towers above, leaving the yard shadowed other than flickering torches carried by guards and grooms. Carriages waited with doors open, horses hitched and ready to ride.
Though the festival would be held not far from the city proper, Ryszard intended us to look like the guests he claid us to be. Perhaps that was his strategy after all. Let the people see us and spread the word of our health and happinessthroughout his empire.
“Pick a carriage,” one of the guards called. “Any will do.”
Gabriel slipped into the carriage with Elin and . In monts, the horses took off. It would be a short trot to the outskirts of the city where the bonfires would be lit.
“Are you sure about this letter?” I whispered. The short ride provided us with the opportunity to talk, the crunch of wheels and trot of horses along the ground further masking our conversation in addition to the walls around us.
“It’s our best chance to get what we’ve learned to the rebels.” Marsali lay to the west, opposite of the direction that Lucien had traveled, if his comnt were to be believed. However, that did not dissuade us. We’d learned enough to believe that Marsali was the emperor’s next target. Whatever disturbance Lucien investigated was likely sothing related to the rebels. The fact that he hadn’t caught them gave us hope.
“Won’t they be expecting that though?” I asked.
“Perhaps, but we’ll be quick and careful. What we’ve seen from the castle confirms the rumors that the fires are being built on the edge of the city. Slipping to the stables near the orchard should be easy enough, even if we’re being watched.”
“As I’m sure we’ll be,” I interjected.
Elin nodded.
“You trust this man?” Elin asked. We’d kept her out of the details, for her safety if nothing else, but she caught on quickly.
“I talked to him in passing. Reyna managed to speak with him also.”
My brows rose. “We’re trusting her now?”
He raised his hands. “I only asked her opinion on the man after I saw her speak with him once during a delivery. He seems reliable enough.”
My lips drew together in a thin line. I didn’t like it, not at all. It was too big a risk to take on soone we knew practically nothing about. He could take our letter and give it to one of the captains on the sa night.
“They’re higher than I expected.” Elin stared out the window.
Around her head, I caught the edge of what snagged her attention. The last rays of sunset illuminated the tops of tall piles of wood. Their height would soar above the head of a normal man. The three mounds ford a triangle, the Goddess’s preferred arrangent and the symbol of her divinity.
The carriage rocked to a stop as the driver called the horses to a halt. People sward about as we exited, clamoring to tables stacked with food, large kegs of ale, and the unlit bonfires. Guards were stationed sporadically throughout the crowd and near the wooden and stone buildings that rose up only a few horse’s lengths away. They kept an eagle eye on this section of the festival, manning the areas between tents of amusent and stacked crates that made false walls, limiting us to one section near the fire closest to the castle. The city’s residents could co and go with approval from the guards. If I hadn’t known better, I’d say the guards were there for our protection. It looked that way. But of course, that was part of the show.
Whispers teasedmy ears as eyes roved over my skin like little spiders crawling along my arms. My back stiffened as I glanced at the crowd in return, letting my attention float over them without lingering too long on any one person. I’d felt less like a fish out of water my first day in the castle than now. A duo of stringed musicians struck up a tune, inviting dancers to join the revelry near a small fire.
Ryszard planned a beautiful deception for his people, with us as the key players.
There’s danger in deception—just possibly, everyone starts to believe it and forgets what’s true. If you’re the only one clinging to the truth amid illusion, can you still claim to be right?
“Co on, let’s find a place near the fires,” I said. “They should be lighting them as soon as the sun fully sets.” Any minute now, if the festival followed the sa schedule as it did in Sorrena.
The green and purple decorations and matching attire worn by the townspeople were a small comfort, a piece of normalcy and celebration amid so much war and grief. The guards still wore their traditional crimson and grey, but a few had pinned ribbons to their chests. Others wore clippings of berries and greenery. In the little ways they were able, they celebrated as well. The few captains mingling in the crowd—ones I did not know well—wore no adornnt, but that wasn’t surprising.
The high priestess from the city’s temple went to each towering pile of wood in turn, bearing a ceremonial torch. Long, wine-colored robes hid the majority of her figure and trailed upon the ground in her wake. The dry wood of the mound nearest us caught quickly, fire licking up one tall branch and then another until sparks took flight into the sky. Prayers were said to Vespera, chanted by the high priestess as loud as her voice would carry and echoed by the rest of us.
Everyone’s attention was trained on the fires, but I searched the crowd, looking for the face, or rather, suit of armor that I did not see. Dancing flas from the bonfires as well as lanterns on tall poles provided more than enough light to make out those in the crowd. If Lucien attended, he was far from here. And though I hated to admit it, his absence left
uneasy, unable to relax and focus on the prayers, especially with Orson strolling about. Well, and Gabriel’s questionable plan.
Shouts of joy and praise rang out as the prayers concluded. Music wove into the crowd from where a troupe played, encouraging dance and revelry. Elin grinned and strode toward the dancers. Though she was more than happy to go, I slunk away to the side, content to watch rather than participate.
“How much longer?” I asked Gabriel, settling myself on a long wooden bench beside him. The fires still roared high and hot in the background of the festivities. No one could get too close without bursting into a sweat and nearly lighting their hair on fire. Between their blazing radiance, the smaller fires dotting the ground in wide-open spaces, and lanterns and torches, there was no shortage of light—or heat.
He pulled a silver pocket watch from his jacket. “Still a little while.”
I nearly groaned out loud. They’d wanted to hold this eting late enough for everyone to have dropped their guard and hopefully have had a drink or three, but the waiting set my teeth on edge.
He chuckled. “Relax. Go find a nice dance partner like Elin.” Gabriel gestured to the crowd.
A young man with sandy hair twirled Elin in a swirl of green skirts. He dressed like a farmhand—heavily scuffed boots, worn and stained shirt—but sothing about him nagged at the back of my mind. At least she was having a good ti.
I slumped against the bench as Gabriel rose, heading off sowhere. He’d be back.
The song concluded. No sooner had the dancers halted their steps and bowed to their partners than the musicians struck up another one. A few dancers left, so changed partners, and others like Elin seed quite content to stick to their current arrangent.
“May I have this next dance, miss?”
Only after he’d spoken did I realize the words were directed at . I turned, prepared to reject whatever brave man had gathered the courage to ask , but the words died in my throat.
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