Page 54
16
NOTHING HAS ITS PLACE
THERON
The Dark Spire’s great hall falls silent as I enter, every courtier tracking my progress across the room. My hours-long absence has not escaped their notice, and they hunger for the story my return will tell.
I keep my pace steady, silver robes a gleaming beacon in this sea of shadows.
Incense thickens the air, mingling with the sweet rot of overripe fruit. Music coils through the hall, beauty laced with menace, pleasure and pain entwined, as inseparable as truth and lies within this sithe.
At the high table, Nyctarian is a shadow given form, his skin absorbing light rather than reflecting it. His midnight-blue nails tap a rhythm on his goblet, out of step with the music playing throughout the hall, and the subtle dissonance sets my teeth on edge.
When he catches sight of me, his smile spreads, revealing teeth too sharp for comfort.
Thalindor falls back as I approach the dais, maintaining a respectful distance while staying close enough to intervene if needed. Not that weapons would help us here, in the heart of the Dark King’s power.
“The Silver Flame returns to us,” Nyctarian remarks as I reach the table, just loudly enough to encourage nearby courtiers to giggle and coo.
He takes in my silver robes with lazy interest, his attention catching on the dried blood I failed to clean from my sleeve. “I had begun to wonder if my halls had somehow misplaced you.”
I incline my head. “Your halls are vast and full of wonders, King Nyctarian. One could easily lose track of time, or themselves, while exploring their mysteries.”
“Indeed.” His fingers still on his goblet. “Though some mysteries are not meant for exploration.”
“Your hospitality has been exemplary,” I say, deflecting with practiced charm. “The Jade delegation proved most informative, though perhaps not in the ways anticipated.”
A flash of irritation crosses his features before he buries it beneath pleasant indifference. “I’m pleased you found the meeting productive. Though I had hoped for a more formal alliance between Earthen and Celestial.”
“As had I.” I signal a servant for wine, though I have no intention of drinking it. The pause gives me time to study Nyctarian, hoping to uncover what he might be hiding. “But formal alliances require complete transparency between parties, do they not?”
The smile Nyctarian offers never reaches his eyes. “Complete transparency is a luxury few kings can afford, Silver Flame. Surely you agree.”
A courtier with skin of polished onyx appears at his shoulder, whispering into his ear. He dismisses her with a wave of his hand and returns his attention to me.
“Please, sit.” He gestures to the empty seat to his right, an honor I cannot refuse without causing offense. “The night grows long, and we have much to discuss.”
I take the offered seat, arranging my robes with deliberate care. The high table offers a perfect view of the entire hall, every courtier now watching our exchange with hunger.
“Your absence was noted this afternoon, after my Master of the Hunt put so much effort into our entertainment for the day.” Nyctarian reaches for a decanter of wine so dark it appears black in the low light. “Many had hoped to see the legendary Silver King’s prowess in the Wild Wood.”
“I found myself pursuing different quarry.” I watch as he fills my goblet without asking permission in a subtle dominance play I choose to ignore.
“Ah, yes. Your missing prince.” Nyctarian sets the decanter aside. “And your unusual companion. The wildling. Has she found other amusements for this night?”
My heart stutters, but I maintain my facade of mild interest. “What could she find more amusing than the delights presented here?”
“Yes, her presence is missed.” He leans back, studying me over the rim of his goblet. “There is a familiarity about this wildling. Was she not also at the Accords?”
I choose my words with extreme care, aware of how each syllable can be warped in this dangerous game. “It was so long ago. Who can remember such things?”
“Who, indeed.” He toys with his goblet, fingers circling the rim and coaxing a hum from the glass. Its note cuts through the other sounds in the room.
“It’s curious how guests sometimes slip through cracks in our realm, is it not? One moment present, the next…” He makes a dismissive gesture with his free hand. “Gone, like a star passing beyond the edge of night.”
My fingers tighten around my goblet, the metal cooling beneath my touch. “The boundaries between realms have always been more permeable than we care to admit.”
“Indeed, Silver Flame.” A hint of calculation slips beneath Nyctarian’s amusement. “Though also less permeable than we’d prefer?”
