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Chapter no 8

A Reign of Rose (The Sacred Stones, #3)

ARWEN

Iโ€™D NEVER ATTENDED A BALL.

The closest Iโ€™d come was probably the banquet Kane had thrown

at Shadowhold for King Eryx and Princess Amelia. My memories of that night were dusty and drenched in birchwine, but some remained etched into my psyche nonetheless, impervious to time or drink or grief: Kane telling me I looked beautiful in my black silk dress; his body caged over mine as he protected me from a hail of wine barrels; the way, even then, he knew exactly how to distract me from my panicโ€ฆAt the memory of his wordsโ€”ย death by birdโ€”a laugh broke from me.

โ€œSomething funny?โ€

Maddox wore his usual silver armor, but the steel mask affixed to his face mimicked the bones of some sort of primordial predator and only served to amplify his brutality in the spare candlelight of my suite. He hummed a haunting, dismal tune that reminded me of a wheezing organ.

โ€œWhatโ€™s the purpose of the masks?โ€ I asked instead of answering as a tired-looking handmaiden strung a loop of diamonds tightly across my neck.

Behind me, Wyn answered, โ€œLegend requires we hide our faces from the Fae Gods so they do not grow envious of our plentiful harvest.โ€

I swore his words were laced with irony, and I peered down in an attempt to meet his eyes through the mirror. They gave nothing away,

hidden beneath a bronze mask with curved horns and slight ears like those of an antelope. I looked over the dimly lit suite behind him through the glass. A red glow from the candleโ€™s reflection on the duvet, and the thick curtains and crimson setteeโ€ฆit was a room bathed in blood.

The handmaiden instructed me to purse my lips and finished applying rouge and charcoal to my face. The glossy vanity was cluttered with powders and creams, and the mirror before me ringed with a fuzzy white glowโ€”powered by some kind of lighte that lit my face too brightly. The white marble was cold against my arms as I leaned forward for her. I wasnโ€™t sure Iโ€™d seen a single beam or plank of wood in all of Solaris. The entire city was a reflection of Lazarusโ€™s stony, unmoving heart.

I longed for the hundredth time for Kaneโ€™s warm, cozy bedroom in Shadowhold, and those clean, dark cotton sheets. The way they smelled of lilac soap and him. I missed all his unexpected clutter, and those fat history books, and even the scratches Acorn had left across the wooden floorboards.

โ€œYou almost done?โ€ Maddox asked the woman from his post across the room. โ€œIf weโ€™re late, itโ€™ll be my head on a stake.โ€

โ€œAnd wouldnโ€™t that be a shame,โ€ I muttered.

โ€œYes, sir,โ€ the woman replied to Maddox, pinning up another strand of my curled hair with Wynโ€™s artful birthday gift. Iโ€™d asked her to include it and sheโ€™d been kind enough to comply, though I got the sense if Iโ€™d asked her to put a fork in my hair she wouldโ€™ve. Iโ€™d never seen anyone so deeply unenthused.

I focused on the hairpin as the handmaiden worked my curls around it.

The daisies at its tip were the only things on me that felt likeย me.

I despised my gilded dress. It was bare of any straps or sleeves, and corseted into oblivion, flattening my chest and pinching my stomach and ribs. The liquid gold skirt offered even less flexibility. Both made my heart panicky, only calmed by the fact that I knew if I really wanted to, I could rip the damn thing clean off. It wouldnโ€™t be the first time Iโ€™d stood naked before the Fae king.

The gown was completely sheer. In direct candlelight any lascivious eye could see the entire outline of my nipples, and the high slits on either side left nothing of my legs to the imagination. Another strategic maneuver aimed at my humiliation. A reminder of what I was inside these palace walls. What Iโ€™d become, so long as I remained in captivity.

โ€œYou, Arwen, are just a womb,โ€ heโ€™d said.

My skintight gloves crawled all the way up my arms, hiding the bruises clustered along my veins, and my shoes bound my feet and wound up my ankles with unbending cord. My hair had never been piled so high, nor my face been so caked, only to be covered by a mask anyway.

All of it to drive me further to the brink of discomfort.

Once the handmaiden pressed the gold-threaded mask flush against my face, I studied the two red droplets under the left eyeโ€”made to look as if I were crying tears of blood.

โ€œHurry up,โ€ Maddox hissed. โ€œOr Iโ€™ll drag her there by those damn curls.โ€

โ€œMaddox,โ€ Wyn cautioned behind me, and my brows rose against the fibers of my tragic mask. Wyn never spoke up against the higher-ranking guard.

My handmaiden hurried her work, securing the back of my corset and looping diamonds through my ears. I could feel her fingers trembling.

Behind us, Maddox pushed off the doors and prowled toward Wyn. โ€œYouโ€™ve gotten a bit too bold since losing your limp. Might be a favor to crack you a new one.โ€

I watched through the mirror as Wyn didnโ€™t cower, but didnโ€™t argue with the taller, broader guard, either.

Maddoxโ€™s lips cut a harsh line. โ€œYour service in the kingsguard is a disgrace. Everyone thinks it. You do know any of us couldย demolishย you if we so desired, right?โ€

He said the words with such promise. Such intent. Wynโ€™s expression remained as rigid as a bowstring. My handmaiden didnโ€™t breathe, and the room crackled with intensity.

I scrambled for the crystal perfume bottle and I pumped it once, primrose filling my nostrils, before I stood abruptly. โ€œIโ€™m ready.โ€

Like undertakers guiding me into the afterlife, Maddox and Wyn stalked alongside me through the winding, laborious hallways of the palace. At night, I found the red marble floors and glinting obsidian dรฉcor even more insidious. The stuffy, too-warm air for early winter was suffocating, and the pulsating, sickly sweet aroma of vanilla that scented it turned my stomach in on itself.

How had Kane grown up here? The palace didnโ€™t suit him at all. Maybe the isolated, lofty ceilings and depthless black walls were new additions, after Kaneโ€™s rebellion. I couldnโ€™t imagine his mother, such an elegant and thoughtful soul as Kane had described her, had lived somewhere so cold. Like dwelling in the heart of a primordial beast.

Raucous music and dissonant voices alerted me to the ball before we rounded the sharp-edged corner and found the grand staircase. Dozens of those silver soldiers lined the hallway on either sideโ€”a display of power, or a necessary protection, I wasnโ€™t sureโ€”and spare partygoers lingered in hallways, some trying to curb premature inebriation, others hunting for a hidden washroom, and others still exchanging secrets or affection in shadowed alcoves.

The celebratory, opulent veneer might have had the desired effect if it werenโ€™t for all the masks.

Most were twice the size of mine, headpieces covering the entire face of the wearerโ€”reaching high above their heads, or hanging low down to their necks as if their jowls were melting. Everyone appeared to be in on some unspoken competition: the larger the mask, the more affluent the wearer. Some were beautifulโ€”a crescent moon beside a sun; dainty, silken butterfly wings spread wide; a weaving of bronze beads across an entire faceโ€”but most were not. Most were crafted to terrify: maws wrenched open, pearl teeth dripping carnelian blood; moonfaced owls with translucent white-blue eyeballs or dozens of heavy golden chains hanging from noses and sagging mouths and ears.

A black leather bird mask with an elongated, pointed beak swooped in too close and I flinched. The wearer ducked toward me again, cackling, and I recoiled from a whiff of something much more potent than wine or ale.

Righting myself, my heart immediately slammed into a stone wall at the sight a few feet down the hall.

Leaning casually against a black marble pillar was an impossibly tall, broad-shouldered man with a dark head of rugged hair. His hands were folded into his pockets with ease as he leaned close to a petite woman in a revealing magenta gown and a mask that glistened like the scales of a fish in sunlight.

Itโ€™s not him. It canโ€™t beโ€”

But my stupid, thumping, pulsating heart didnโ€™t listen. Not for a second.

And I found all my breath was stored tightly inside my lungs as we passed the hulking man and he let out a loud, grating laugh.

The air fled from me in a rush, disappointment and sorrow flooding my now empty lungs.

Not Kane. Not his laughโ€”

Maddox tugged my arm back, halting my still-moving feet. We had reached the top of the bifurcated stairs, and my heart stopped cold once more against my immeasurably bound, gilded chest. The poor organ could not catch a break, and I blamed months of seeing so few people, so little life or movementโ€ฆ

And nowโ€”a gargantuan throne room sprawled before me lit only by red pillar candles and a ceiling rife with glittering faux stars. The walls were bedecked with intricate metal-hewn garlands and bouquets spare of any real flowers, and beneath them, a shiny black-and-white-checkered floor fit for dancing, packed with hundreds of revelers.

All of it, absurd excess with no soul. No spirit.

But the dark, joyless dรฉcor was not what stole the breath from my lungs. Nor the sheer number of people in Lazarusโ€™s court, willing to dance the night away, ignoring the beast they served or the heinousness that spanned

outside Solarisโ€™s walls.

Nor was it even the dais, and the banquet table that stretched across it, populated by rich nobles. Or Lazarus, dark and triumphant, seated at its centerโ€”his throne behind them covered in some swath of velvet as if he didnโ€™t wish his court to see the thing if he was not sprawled across it.

No, what sent me lightheaded was the empty chair beside him. Waiting, impatiently, for me.

โ€œI canโ€™t,โ€ I heard myself say. โ€œYou must,โ€ Wyn replied.

โ€œThe queen is coming,โ€ Maddox grunted, ushering us away from the staircase. โ€œWeโ€™ll proceed after her entrance.โ€

My brows pulled together under my mask. โ€œWhat queen?โ€

A herald wearing a red-and-black-checkered uniform cleared his throat twice, silencing the high-pitched chatter and low horns of the band. The expectant roomโ€™s attention landed squarely on him, and he announced at a blaring decibel, โ€œQueen Amelia of Evendell, Ruler of the Peridot Provinces.โ€

Shockโ€”utterย shockโ€”weakened my legs and forced me against the slick banister to remain upright. Iโ€™d thought it would be revulsion, or fear, or horror that brought me to my knees tonight. But thisโ€”

Queen Amelia. Welcome in Lazarusโ€™s court as a guest.

Amelia was elegance incarnate as she made her way past us and down the broad, glittering stairs unattended. Legs as long as a heronโ€™s, her ivory gown the same color as her braided hair. Like a second skin on her exquisite body, it rolled on and on behind her as she walked, a train others would have to be wary of all evening. A power play, as was everything Amelia did. No jewelry, save for the dozens of colorful gemstone rings on her long, lithe fingers.

But that mask.

A garden of vibrant, bejeweled flora and fauna that began at her high cheekbones and climbed to a corona of stems atop her head. The embroidered plants and creaturesโ€”wings and claws and petals and stemsโ€” formed more of a headdress than a mask, and though I could only imagine

the weight, Amelia held her chin high, accentuating her fine jawline and elegant neck.

What in the Stones could have compelled Eryx to abdicate his throne to his daughter? Nothing of this world. He was either coerced or dead. But Amelia, here as Lazarusโ€™s allyโ€ฆIt must have been Kaneโ€™s doing. A plan of some kind.

Hope like I hadnโ€™t allowed myself to experience in months fluttered aimlessly in my chest. I had to speak to her somehow.

But Amelia was already halfway down the steps, on her way to mingle among the crowd, and eventually take her seat at the elongated banquet table.

โ€œI need to use the washroom.โ€

Wyn and Maddox both turned to me, an antelope and a beast. Prey and predator. โ€œNo,โ€ the latter growled. โ€œWeโ€™re already late.โ€

โ€œBut I thinkโ€ฆโ€ I gagged. โ€œIโ€™m going to be sick.โ€ I heaved again and clutched my stomach.

โ€œOh, Gods,โ€ Maddox cursed, scanning to see if anyone had noticed. โ€œFine, retch quickly. Wyn, take her.โ€

I heaved again and Wyn dragged me back down the hallway toward the ladiesโ€™ salon. โ€œDo you need me to come in with you?โ€

I shook my head and dashed inside.

The ladiesโ€™ salon was unlike any washroom Iโ€™d ever entered. Conquered by women appraising themselves in those same glowing vanities I had in my suite, adjusting straps on shoes and fussing with belts and earrings. Gossiping and sipping fizzy wine. Two women were admiring each otherโ€™s masks before they traded, giddily evaluating their new looks side by side.

I sped over to them. โ€œThatโ€™s just what Iโ€™ve been looking for!โ€ I bubbled to the wider-hipped woman, her new mask rife with snakes in place of hair. I pointed to my own. โ€œMy husband loved this one, but itโ€™s so boring.โ€

โ€œNo,โ€ she cooed, drunk. โ€œItโ€™s lovely. Mine was hurting myโ€โ€”a hiccup

โ€”โ€œcheekbones.โ€ She nodded to her younger friend, who was struggling to hold the offending piece against her face.

โ€œHere,โ€ I offered the young partygoer, taking mine off. โ€œTrade me?โ€

The other woman, too inebriated even to speak, gave me the hefty mask without argument and took mine in return.

Without as much as my thanks, I hurried deeper into the salon. I wasnโ€™t sure how long Wyn or Maddox would believe I was sick, but I doubted I had more than a handful of minutes.

The new maskโ€”two hands pressed across my eyes with fingers tipped in long black nailsโ€”wouldnโ€™t be enough to slip out without alerting Wyn. My dress was too recognizable.

I scanned the washroom. Faint pink wallpaper. Porcelain and gold sinks and shelves replete with linen hand towels. No curtains I could stealโ€ฆno throws or blanketsโ€”

An older woman with ringlets of white was nearly snoring in a blush settee in the corner, a chalice dangling from her fingers. Tossed to her side, a vivid, floral fur coat.

Hideous. Andย perfect.

I prowled over and gently pulled the thick, dyed hide from the couch, careful not to wake its sleeping owner. Her head drooped, and I held my breathโ€”but only a slumbering grunt drifted out.

Thank the Stones.

Wrapping it around me, I moved forโ€” โ€œWhat are you doing?โ€

I whirled, heart in my throat, to find a woman in a badger mask. โ€œThatโ€™s my motherโ€™s coat.โ€

โ€œOf course it is!โ€ย Well done, Arwen, thatโ€™s a response.

The badger appraised me, crossing her arms.

โ€œAndโ€ฆโ€ I continued, grasping at nothing. โ€œAnd she was kind enough to offer it to me while she rested because I amย freezing.โ€ I mimed being very chilly. โ€œIsnโ€™t there something so special about women making friends in the ladiesโ€™ washroom?โ€

The badgerโ€™s frown cracked slightly. โ€œShe is generous. Thatโ€™s what being a mother of six will do to you.โ€

I laughed too hard. โ€œI told her to come find me whenever she needed it back. Iโ€™ll be sitting up on the dais with the king.โ€

โ€œOh my,โ€ Badger Mask said, leaning in. โ€œYou will?โ€

โ€œMhm.โ€ I nodded. The clock was ticking and I needed this badger out of my way.

โ€œHow did you land that seat?โ€ โ€œMy sister. Sheโ€™s a duchess.โ€

โ€œA duchess! Of what territory?โ€

Bleeding Stones.ย The badgerโ€™s mother snorted in her sleep beside me and rolled to the side, pressing her face flat against the rosy fabric.

โ€œPirn?โ€ I tried. I told myself that sounded like a real territory. Or maybe this would be the end of this half-baked, poorly plannedโ€”no,ย unplanned, ridiculously unplannedโ€”

โ€œI love Pirn,โ€ the badger cooed. โ€œEspecially in the spring. So beautiful.โ€ โ€œIndeed.โ€ I grinned, narrowing my eyes at her. She was bluffing as well.

Iโ€™d almost forgotten that Lazarusโ€™s court was filled with self-serving, lying social climbers.

โ€œMight you introduce me to your sistโ€”โ€

Before she could utter another word I hurried out the door, directly past an unaware Wyn, arms folded patiently as he waited.

I wouldnโ€™t have much time before he broke into the womenโ€™s washroom to look for me. I needed to find Amelia.

Nearly bashing into dapper, rich men and elegant women plied with too much wine, I hurtled down the staircase and into the madness.

Revelry reined. Blaring music, bodies sweating, laughter that sounded like weeping. Bumped by imposing Fae, toes trod on by dancers, I scuttled across the checkered floor like a beetle on a battlefield. It was too dark, and my vision was obscured under the hands of my mask. My corset too tight, the fur of this obscene coat itchy on my neck and chest.

When I finally saw that pristine ivory dress, I uttered my thanks to the Stones themselves. Ameliaโ€™s white silk train was unmarred by a single shoe print. If I were a beetle, the new queen of Peridot was a dove, high in the sky, untouched by the boisterous chaos.

โ€œQueen Amelia,โ€ I cut in, despite what seemed to be an engaging conversation with some mustached noble. โ€œItโ€™s been too long.โ€

She turned, the intricate ornaments of her mask whirring and tinkering with the movement like real creatures might. โ€œWho is that? These masks are such a pain.โ€

โ€œMari.โ€ Though I knew it was ridiculous, saying her name made my eyes burn. โ€œMari Branton.โ€

Amelia faltered only briefly before pulling me into a stunted embrace and hissing against my hair, โ€œArwen?โ€

I nodded until she released me, though she only stood there, gaping.

I turned to the mustached man across from us, whose expression said he knew his odds of bedding a queen tonight were rapidly deteriorating. โ€œI havenโ€™t seen my dear friend since her coronation. Would you mind terribly if I stole her away to catch up?โ€

โ€œOf course not.โ€ The man bowed.

โ€œThereโ€™sโ€ฆa courtyard this way,โ€ Amelia whispered, finally finding her voice. โ€œFollow me.โ€

โ€œI donโ€™t have much time.โ€

โ€œYouโ€™ve a lot more than I thought.โ€

Amelia dragged me past the swarm of revelers, across that checkered floor, past the sixteen sweating musicians playing a frenzied piece, and through a wide set of doors.

My racing heart stilled with the fragrant breeze. I hadnโ€™t been outside in months.

I inhaled fresh night air. Or whatever served as closest to it here in Solaris. Dry, slightly sweet, a little thick. But fresh air nonetheless.

Amelia yanked me past a few more relaxed soldiersโ€”still on duty, but with the visibly less demanding domain of the courtyardโ€”and toward a shallow, dark reflection pool, its still water topped by fat lily pads but bare of lilies and glinting in the light of nearby curved lamps.

โ€œHow are you alive?โ€ Ameliaโ€™s words were hushed as she tipped the monstrosity from her face and across her head like a hat. I did the same. Not-quite-cool-enough air washed over my face.

โ€œLazarus healed me. It was all a ploy to get to Kane. He never wanted me to die.โ€

Her eyes were still wild with shock. Her breaths rushed as she said, โ€œBut the prophecyโ€”โ€

โ€œI know. He destroyed the blade. Now he canโ€™t be killed.โ€

โ€œAnd he kept you here becauseโ€ฆ?โ€ The moonโ€™s light was spoiled as it was every night by those immovable clouds of putrid gray, but some thin, determined silver glow still cast Ameliaโ€™s tan skin in delicate shadows.

I sighed and lowered my voice even more. โ€œHe wants me to bear him full-blooded Fae children.โ€

Ameliaโ€™s eyes widened even farther.ย โ€œWhat?โ€

I resisted the urge to shake her and only said, as calmly as possible, โ€œAmelia. You need to get word to Kane that Iโ€™m here. That Iโ€™m alive.โ€

โ€œArwenโ€ฆโ€ She was shaking her head as if trying to sort through the onslaught of new information.

โ€œI think I can convince one of my guards toโ€”โ€

โ€œArwen.โ€ She sighed, eyes finding that rippleless reflection pool. โ€œI canโ€™t reach Kane.โ€

My stomach twisted. โ€œWhy not? Isnโ€™t that why youโ€™re here? Arenโ€™t you twoโ€”โ€

โ€œNoโ€”Iโ€ฆโ€ When her sunflower eyes found mine again, they welled with regret. โ€œIโ€™m the one who gave you up.โ€

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