A River of Golden Bones (The Golden Court, #1)(72)
The horn crescendoed and my voice grew louder, matching Ora’s. My chest vibrated, the sound filling me down to my bones. The song made me ache, each word stretching out into the corners of my heart.
The song was about a couple missing who they were together and hoping they’d be united again. I imagined all those miners singing to their faraway loves, passing the time until they could return home. Each melancholic note rang with that feeling of loneliness. The bittersweetness echoed through me, hope and sorrow singing in equal measure.
Gooseflesh rippled across my skin, the emotions overwhelming my body. The song slowed into its final refrain, and Ora and I along with it. “Until then, my love, hold on to you and me.”
Cheering erupted and I whirled to see a small crowd gathered around us. I gaped at them, my cheeks burning. I’d been too focused on the song to notice them.
“Your voice!” Ora beamed, having to shout to me over the applause. “It’s so—”
“Beautiful.” A man in the crowd stepped forward. He had sharp features and sky-blue eyes. Something about his eerie stillness made my hackles raise.
“I’m Niklas,” he said, tipping his fur hat. “The Queen’s secretary.”
My eyes widened, taking in his perfect clothing—no snow on his jacket, no dirt staining his hems. I narrowed my eyes at him. He was handsome and elegant, but I didn’t think he was a Wolf, merely a well-to-do human in the Queen’s employ.
He gave me a crooked smile, clearly thinking my shock was because I was a lowly street performer . . . and not because I was a Wolf. “I know Queen Ingrid would be delighted to have you perform that song for her at the masquerade tomorrow night.”
The crowd gasped, applause ringing out again as if it were some great honor to be invited. I let out a stuttering breath, nerves coiling tight in my gut.
Breathe. At least he wasn’t a Silver Wolf. At least he didn’t know me.
“We’re already playing, my Lord.” Ora bowed. “We’re with Galen den’ Mora.”
“Splendid,” Niklas said with a grin. “Make sure you sing that song for Her Majesty.”
“It would be our pleasure.” Ora flourished their hand.
Niklas disappeared into the tittering crowd, people giving him a wide berth. The crowd dispersed as the horn players returned.
Ora’s face lit up looking at me. “Our little duet will be fun!”
“I can’t perform in front of the Queen!” I sputtered. “You can sing the song on your own, can’t you?”
“No, no, no,” they said. “It’s no good as a solo. You must! Please?”
“I-I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said. “I almost passed out doing it in front of ten people.”
Ora chuckled. “If you close your eyes, it doesn’t matter if it’s ten or a thousand.”
“A thousand?”
They settled their hand on my arm. “It’s a masquerade. No one will even see your face.”
“Oh, jumping juvlecks.” I gulped. “I need to find Grae.”
Ora pointed over my shoulder, and I twisted to find a figure at the far end of the plaza. Grae clung to the shadows of the alley, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. I knew even with his face shadowed in his hood that his dark eyes were staring straight into mine.
I stood, taking a step toward him; his arms fell to his side, and he turned back down the alley. My stomach dropped to my feet. Would he never speak to me again?
I thought about heading in the direction of that cloaked figure, but I knew Grae wouldn’t want me to follow him. He’d heard me sing . . . Maybe he didn’t like it? I shook my head, scolding myself for entertaining these thoughts. He needed time, just as Sadie said. My hands clenched in my pockets. How much time did he need?
My mind still whirling, I broke off from Ora to explore the lower east end of Taigoska by myself. The busy markets gave way to quiet older dwellings, beautiful stone architecture, and plaques describing important historical sites.
I stopped at a mosaic of a Wolf with a giant silver serpent in its maw. The inscription below it read King Joakim Enghdall III, Slayer of the Ebarvens. This was Queen Ingrid’s ancestor—the one credited with ridding Taigoska of the snow snakes. But ebarvens still existed in Taigos, like in the crater outside Hengreave, just pushed to the corners of the kingdom. Still, the humans lit candles upon the altar below his mosaic, a prayer for continued protection. This was the legacy of the Wolves, my legacy, but the world was still filled with monsters, Sawyn being one of them.
I stepped into the carved archway of a human temple. Like so many things in Taigoska, the temple was a hidden gem. There was no shrine to the Goddess of Knowledge; instead there were books. The library had towering rows of leather tomes, ladders lining either side, and rows of desks for people to sit and study. The ceilings weren’t vaulted and the space wasn’t grand, but there was something cozy and lived-in about the worn cushions and the dusty shelves. Stained-glass windows cast spectrums of sacred light around the dim room.
My fingers skimmed the rows, following them to a little nook with a carved crown placard. The shelves were filled with history books, royal lineages, and census scrolls. My eyes landed on the gold lettering down the spine of a burgundy book: The Sleeping Queen.
Dizzy, I grabbed the book off the shelf. Of course there would be books written about my mother. She was royalty, one of the most famous figures in all Aotreas. Everyone knew the story of how my father broke her sleeping curse with a kiss. There were songs and plays and children’s bedtime stories about the two of them. Still, to stumble across a book about my family . . . With Briar gone, it felt harder than ever to be reminded of their absence.