King of Mist (Steel and Fire Book 2) (30 page)

Lord Von Rollendar marched straight to his place at one of the long tables stretching across the hall and leaned in to speak with Lord Morrven seated beside him. His friend Lord Samanar had been assigned a seat on the opposite side of the hall. Von’s relaxed demeanor gave no hints about the scheme he must be preparing to activate any moment now.

Bolden shot a sulky stare at the king then slouched into an alcove with another young lord. When Dara checked on them during her rounds, they were sharing a flask, looking every inch the bored young noblemen forced to attend an official function. They certainly didn’t look like men planning a coup.

Tension tightened between Dara’s shoulder blades. Something felt off about tonight. She couldn’t figure out why. The other Guards looked serious and focused. Everyone was where he or she was supposed to be. Yuri guarded the door to the kitchens on the far side of the Great Hall, and when she caught his eye, he shook his head. All clear still. All they could do was wait.

When the Great Hall brimmed over with guests and noise, Siv strode to the dais. He clapped his hands to call for attention from the assembly.

“Thank you all for coming to celebrate my engagement,” he said when the guests had quieted and turned to face him. “It is my great pleasure to introduce you to Lady Tull Denmore, head of the noble House Denmore and the venerable House Ferrington, the next Queen of Vertigon, and my future lady wife.”

Applause thundered through the crowd, making the glass on the tables shudder. The doors to the Great Hall swept open, and Lady Tull glided in. Six tall, handsome guards in snow-white uniforms accompanied her. Her gown was a pale shade of rose that perfectly matched the blush in her cheeks. She wore a short cape of white fur around her shoulders and a fabulous red Firejewel at her throat. Tiny Firejewels were fastened in her intricately woven hair, piled high on her head. The ensemble made her look taller than she actually was. She looked like a queen.

The crowd gasped as the beautiful woman stopped a few paces from the center of the Great Hall. Siv strode toward her, confident and grave and handsome. The Firejewels in his crown flashed in the light from the vines adorning the walls, and his black coat shimmered like fine steel.

Dara tensed, hand on the hilt of her Savven blade. She kept waiting for the mysterious swordsmen to rush into the room, or for Bolden and his father to step forward and challenge the king. She had been sure they would pick a showy moment like Lady Tull’s entrance to make their move. But Lord Von gazed impassively at the royal couple, and Bolden still hadn’t emerged from his alcove.

Dara checked the exits. To their credit, the Guardsmen remained alert, rather than being distracted by the storybook scene playing out in the middle of the hall. But there was still no sign of trouble.

Siv bowed to Lady Tull, and she dropped into an elegant—but not too deep—curtsy. Siv offered her his arm, and she took it, her delicate white hand a striking contrast against his black coat. The king and his lady strode up the center of the hall as women sighed and men stared after them with envy in their eyes.

Siv’s face was solemn and sure. He escorted Lady Tull to the dais, the six guards in white surrounding them on all sides. Dara searched their faces, but she didn’t recognize any of them. She moved closer, ready to leap in front of the king if Lady Tull’s honor guard tried anything. But still nothing happened.

Siv and Tull rounded the table on the dais. He pulled out her chair, and she sat, settling onto the cushion like a rose-colored cloud. Then Siv raised his goblet, which was full of water Dara had personally tested for poison.

“My people,” he said. “Thank you for joining us to celebrate our upcoming union. Let’s raise a toast to my exquisite lady.”

“Hear! Hear!”

“To King Sivarrion and Lady Tull!”

“Long live King Siv!”

Goblets rose in unison around the room. Dara’s grip tightened on her blade. The Guards scanned the crowd, alert and focused. But still nothing happened.

Siv glanced over at Dara, his goblet still in the air. She shook her head slightly. Siv’s mouth twitched in response.

“To Lady Tull!” he called to the assembly and downed his glass. “Now, let us eat!”

The feast was the longest meal Dara had ever endured. While the king and his betrothed dined, she strode around the hall, looking for any sign of the threat she was so sure would materialize tonight. She checked and rechecked the kitchens and the castle courtyard and anywhere else it would be possible for enemies to assault the castle. But everything was exactly as it should be: well guarded and calm.

The Rollendars didn’t appear to be particularly enjoying the feast, but they were nothing more than surly. Dara almost wished they’d get it over with already.

Lady Tull had arranged for a parade of musicians and dancers to entertain the guests as they dined. Dara had asked Vine to vet all of these groups in advance, and she reported that they were all established acts, no more likely to commit treachery than the average Vertigonian. The Guard had inspected each troupe at the gates just in case, but they showed no signs of hidden weapons—or hidden Firepower. They entertained the diners one group at a time then left the Great Hall without causing any trouble.

And still, the Firelights blazed, the nobles ate, the Guards stood ready, and nothing happened.

Dara completed another circuit of the castle, feeling edgy and tense. She couldn’t shake the sense that she was missing something as she returned to her place near the king’s table.

If Siv felt as wary as she did, he hid it well. He played the doting fiancé role perfectly. Lady Tull smiled and laughed and looked every inch the blushing bride. That there was no real connection between Siv and Tull was obvious to Dara, but she wondered if any of the nobles even saw it. The feast progressed just as a royal engagement celebration should.

As the meal drew to a close, noblemen and ladies stood to propose toasts and wish the young couple well. The most eloquent speech of all came from Vine Silltine, who talked about the need for married couples to be in harmony with one another and dance to the same rhythm, like the rhythm of the wind. She winked at Dara when she took her seat, as if Dara should understand whatever the heck Vine was talking about.

Then it was time for the dance. As the first notes filled the Great Hall, Siv invited Lady Tull to the center of the floor. Dara edged as close to them as she could get, standing beside the table bordering the dance floor. A pair of ladies sat at the end of the table: Lady Farrow and Lady Roven, if she wasn’t mistaken. A bit of their conversation reached Dara as the music swelled and the royal couple began to dance.

“They remind me of King Sevren and Queen Tirra,” said Lady Roven.

“Tull is even prettier than Tirra was in her youth,” Lady Farrow replied. “And she’s from Vertigon, no less!”

“Well, if Sivarrion treats his bride anything like his father treated his mother, she’s a lucky woman.”

“She’s a lucky woman anyway.” Lady Farrow chuckled richly. “If I was twenty years younger and there’d been a prince like that on offer, I’d have snapped him up on his eighteenth birthday.”

“Cheers to that.” Lady Roven sighed, watching the couple twirl around the floor. “My Tellen wasn’t nearly as gallant at that age.”

“I expect we’ll have a beautiful royal baby within the year.”

“I’ll take that wager.” Lady Roven raised her wine glass. “I ought to get my Jully married off soon so her offspring can have a chance at the next Amintelle marriage.”

“We must plan ahead.” Lady Farrow clinked her own glass against Lady Roven’s.

Dara scanned the table beyond the two ladies. Noble after noble gazed at the young couple in admiration. They all seemed happy with this turn of events. Could it really be true that any of them would support the Rollendars if they moved against the king? Von and Bolden were nowhere near as popular as Siv, especially with Tull at his side. What on earth made Tull think this wasn’t the best match she could ever make? For a moment Dara doubted what she’d seen at Lady Atria’s greathouse. Had she misunderstood them? No. Bolden and Tull had been talking about when to make their move. And they had acted quite familiarly. It seemed unlikely that Tull would hold Bolden’s hand and stand as close to him as she had been unless she wasn’t intending to go through with her royal engagement.
What
was Dara missing?

Siv and Lady Tull danced alone for the first song, but when the music changed the other nobles stood to select partners for the traditional First Dance. At royal feasts in Vertigon, the nobles always used the First Dance to shore up alliances by dancing with the wives and daughters of men with whom they wanted to curry favor. It was a way to express friendship and admiration for potential business partners.

Dara watched for any strange movements, but the usual shuffle of invitations commenced without incident. More couples swept out onto the floor, gossip following in their wake. The king and his lady still danced, elegance personified.

Wind howled outside the tall, narrow windows of the Great Hall, drawing Dara’s attention. Ice had begun to coat the glass. The snowfall thickened. Most of the mountain was invisible, cloaked in frost. But the Fire-infused vines decorating the room kept the celebration contained within a bubble of warmth and light.

As the blizzard sighed against the windows, Dara turned back to the hall. Bolden Rollendar was striding her way. She tensed, hand on her blade, and checked to make sure Siv was still safe in the center of the dance floor. Then she met Bolden’s eyes. She hadn’t spoken directly to him in a long time. Though he’d been welcoming when she encountered him as Siv’s friend at Lady Atria’s, he was the type of man to look right through guards and servants.

But Bolden didn’t look through her or walk past her. Instead, he stopped, bowed, and offered her his hand.

“Miss Ruminor. May I have the First Dance?”

“With me?” Dara blurted.

“Indeed.” Bolden’s eyes never left her face. “It would honor me to dance with our king’s favorite Castle Guard, our city’s favorite female duelist, and our favorite Lantern Maker’s daughter.”

Dara didn’t want to break eye contact, feeling that it would be the equivalent of losing a duel to Bolden, but she had to check that the Guards were still in position and the king was safe. When she looked back, Bolden waited with his hand outstretched, a slight smirk on his lips.

“Very well,” she said. She had to know what this was about. No one offered the First Dance without a good reason. She took Bolden’s hand. It was as cold as ice, and just as hard.

They danced at the edge of the floor, drawing only a few curious eyes. Most people not dancing watched the engaged couple spin gracefully across the room. Bolden was a precise dancer. He executed each step perfectly, but Dara felt as if she were dancing with a piece of steel. She was torn between needing to watch over the hall and wanting to stare Bolden down and figure out what he was trying to accomplish here. How did dancing with a member of the Castle Guard win him any political capital, no matter how well known she had become?

He didn’t speak at first, but he studied Dara as if she were a mijen game he was determined to win. His hair was messy, and he hadn’t bothered to button up his scarlet coat. His breath smelled of brandy, though not as thickly as she would have expected given how long he had supposedly spent chugging from his flask in the alcove. He seemed plenty alert.

Finally, Bolden spoke. “It’s been interesting to see what you’ve done with the Castle Guard.”

“Has it.”

“They certainly draw the eye.” He glanced down at the sigil embroidered on the breast of Dara’s trim blue coat. “And they appear to be as loyal to you as they are to the crown.”

“They do their jobs well.”

“Indeed.” The song ended, but Bolden did not release Dara’s hand. “Another dance?”

“My lord.”

Bolden moved as the music picked up, faster this time. He guided her around the floor with a firm hand on her back.

“So help me understand, Miss Ruminor,” Bolden mused as they spun across the dance floor. “You hand-selected a Guard full of your dueling friends. You enlisted your own coach to train them. You made our king their patron and allowed them to continue competing. By all accounts it’s a dream position for any duelist, especially since they’re unlikely to see much real danger. We are in Vertigon after all.” Dara’s eyes flickered up to meet Bolden’s, but his expression gave nothing away. “So tell me: why didn’t you invite Kelad Korran, the one duelist who I know beyond a shadow of a doubt is your friend, to benefit from this dream job?”

Dara fought desperately to keep her expression neutral, even as ice wrapped a fist around her heart. He knew.

“You must have offered him the opportunity,” Bolden continued. “It’s what any friend would do. The way I see it, the only reason you wouldn’t give our friend Kel the chance to join the New Guard is if you had another job in mind for him. Perhaps a job that involved snooping.” Bolden’s voice lowered to a whisper, and he pulled Dara closer, his skin cold against hers. “Around my father’s estate, for example.”

“Kel already had a patron,” Dara said, fighting to keep her voice steady. “He wasn’t interested in joining the Guard.”

“Oh, I doubt that very much. You see, Kelad is in my father’s custody. It turns out he’s not as stealthy a spy as he thought.”

Dara tensed. She knew it would give her away, but she couldn’t help it. Bolden’s smirk deepened. His breath was a hiss in her ear.

“He’ll tell us everything. My father can be very persuasive.”

Dara fought to keep her heart rate down. What had Von Rollendar done to Kel?

And Bolden wasn’t finished. “As you can imagine, I was rather annoyed when I realized Kel had repaid my patronage with treachery. He would still be living in a slum on Square if I hadn’t recognized his potential and decided to sponsor him.” Bolden’s grip tightened painfully on Dara’s hand. “I was also annoyed that he compromised some rather carefully laid plans.” He looked pointedly around the hall, where the feast continued in peace, the Guard ever vigilant.