Brook’s breath fogged the glass as she leaned closer.
“The lightning strikes have been known to burn an entire person to the ground,” she added.
“Impossible.” But I wasn’t entirely convinced it was an exaggeration. I’d heard the tales too, legends of arctic storms so powerful that entire populations had been blown away on the wind, disintegrated to ash. I’d always thought they were the stuff of fables, though.
After a moment, she spoke again as another blaze ignited the sky. “Apparently, the storms only strike after dark, and this one is unseasonably early. They don’t generally come until the dead of winter. From what I hear, Queen Neva’s decision to barricade us inside is best for everyone.”
I could practically hear her thoughts. She felt the same way about being locked up in here—rather than in the gatehouse with her soldiers—as she did about being asked to surrender her weapons. Miserable.
“Where’s the thunder?” I asked, hoping to distract her before she turned the conversation back to me, back to what I’d been doing with Niko. The landscape before us was punctuated by streaks of white-hot light that seemed to be coming from every direction now.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Brook shake her head. “There isn’t any.”
“Never?”
Brook seemed to think about that as she watched. “Hmm,” she finally uttered. “Weird, isn’t it? We’ll have to ask about that tomorrow.” She took a breath and turned to me, a wry smile on her lips. “But, for now, we should probably get to bed before Zafir realizes we’re up and starts asking questions.” She looked pointedly at the chest she’d dragged over and positioned right on top of the hatch in the floor, ensuring, at least in her mind, that I wouldn’t be using it again. “You have a long day ahead of you. Lots of ‘queen stuff’ to do.”
xvi
I gripped Zafir’s arm as we approached the throne room, where we were convening before breakfast. Through the open doorway, I could already make out several of Queen Neva’s guests, and my stomach tightened.
I paused, taking a breath as the footman signaled discreetly to someone inside. And then Neva was standing there, an ethereal vision.
I released a grateful sigh, letting her take me from Zafir as she slipped her cool fingers around mine. “Charlaina, you look”—she grinned, the corner of her lip turning up slyly as she appraised me in the simple yellow dress she’d sent up to my room, more color than I’d ever worn in my life—“like a golden flower. Can you feel every eye in the room on you? There has been much speculation about what you would be like, the girl who conquered a queen.”
I kept my attention trained on her for the moment, not yet ready to face the prying eyes of the others. One queen at a time, I told myself. You can do this, Charlie.
“I can’t thank you enough for the dresses. It was far too kind.” My gaze swept over her gown, and I was surprised—after seeing what she’d worn the day before—that hers was far more concealing than I’d expected. And by concealing, I simply meant that the material was nontransparent.
Still, she managed to make it revealing all the same, by squeezing herself into a bodice so snug it threatened to push her br**sts out of its top.
She didn’t seem to notice. Or care.
“You look lovely,” I said truthfully. Snug or not, she was quite possibly the most elegant woman I’d ever met. Her ice-blue gown fell into rippling, diaphanous waves that started just at her waist and cascaded all the way to the silver slippers on her feet. Her long, flaxen hair fell in a wild mass of curls around her shoulders, framing her silver eyes.
“The rest of your party is awaiting your arrival. Rather impatiently, I must say. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think they don’t trust me.” She looked toward the place where Brook and Aron were standing, along with Sebastian.
All I could see of my friends through the gathering were their heads, but they didn’t look impatient to me. To me, it seemed as if they were enjoying themselves. Making friends, even.
Aron bent to whisper in the ear of a slender girl in a red gown, while Brook watched them, barely noticing that Sebastian was speaking to her.
“Don’t take it personally,” I offered, hoping to appease our hostess.
She just raised an eyebrow and said, “I never do.” Then she waved to a woman who looked as though she might burst if she weren’t noticed soon—hopping up and down, trying to get Neva’s attention. “Come, dear. It’s time for you to meet some of the queens.”
The queen in question turned out to be an empress, as I’d been told there would be a few in attendance. Empress Filis was as lively and animated as Queen Neva was graceful and reserved. Surrounding her were three girls dressed in matching white gowns that left their shoulders and backs, and much of their legs bare.
The empress also wore white, but not a gown at all. Instead, her jacket was beaded and covered a gauzy blouse. I envied the fact that she wore pants, yet I heard no one faulting her for her fashion choice. Her hair was cut short and had been smoothed back from her face.
She bent to kiss my hand, and I started, trying to recall if Xander had ever mentioned a greeting like this . . . certain he hadn’t.
“It’s lovely to meet you.” Empress Filis lifted her eyes to mine, and the white-gowned girls tittered behind their hands.
One of them said the word: “concubine,” although not in Englaise, or any other language I should have recognized.