A River of Golden Bones (The Golden Court, #1)(84)

The far door had the symbol of a Wolf and the Taigosi words Da Lothien Ostrosko. It roughly meant “hospitality closet,” where Wolves could find clothing if they traveled to the palace on all four paws. How well the Wolves treated their own kind . . . how poorly they treated everyone else.

“Thank you,” I said to Grae, releasing his hand and leaning against the cold white stone. The coolness soothed the torrent of emotion swirling inside me.

Grae cupped my cheek. “You were wonderful, little fox.”

“I don’t know what overcame me,” I breathed. “I’ve heard that song a million times before—heard it just recently, in fact—but something about actually singing my parents’ love song in front of an entire pack of Ice Wolves . . .”

“Your parents’ story had only ever been that—a story. But the closer we creep to Olmdere, the more real it becomes.”

“From the moment Sawyn cursed Briar, it became real.” I wiped my clammy hand across the back of my neck. “Remembering her on that stone tomb only reminds me that their story didn’t end like that song, no happily ever afters for them.”

“They had many years of happiness together, though,” Grae said. “Some would trade a lifetime for those years they spent together. Their lives were more than just their endings.”

I found Grae’s eyes in the shadows of his mask and I knew he was thinking of his mother, too. “Yes.”

Grae’s eyes smoldered as he wrapped his hand around my waist and gathered me to him. “You can’t come to a ball and not have a dance with me.” He looked at the snow-covered broom leaning against the wall. “Though this isn’t quite what I had imagined.”

“Me either.” I let out a soft laugh, looking up into his beaming eyes shadowed by his fiendish mask. “Though I think this might be more appropriate for our first dance.”

“You belong in the center of every room, Calla,” Grae murmured, eyes dropping to my lips. “But yes, selfishly, I like having you all to myself right now.”

He began moving me in a simple box step, gliding me around the tight space. So often I had to practice being the lead dance partner with Briar. It felt good to be guided around the floor for once. The beautiful melody filled me as Grae twirled us around.

He sighed. “I’ll never forget that moment, the sound of your voice, the way you looked.”

“You have a beautiful voice, little songbird.” We both jolted apart at the sound of the smooth, warm tone. “It reminds me of someone I knew long ago.”

We stared through the open doorway as Queen Ingrid sauntered toward us. Her hoop skirts squeezed through the archway as she waved her feathered fan along her décolletage.

“Hello, Graemon,” she said with a quirk of her lips. She lifted her chin in Wolf greeting and tapped her fan closed against her lace-covered hands. “Not a very convincing disguise, I must say.”

I straightened, wishing I had more than just my knife in my boot. Grae took a step closer to me as he bowed, and I did the same.

From this close, I could see the streaks of silver in Queen Ingrid’s white-blond hair, the minute lines around her mouth and neck, the only indications of her age.

“Your Majesty,” Grae muttered.

“That was a delightful little act you put on in there. And who is this phoenix you kissed?” She cast her cold eyes toward me. “What’s your name?”

“Calla,” I whispered, dipping my head in a half-bow again.

Queen Ingrid sniffed the air as if she could discern who I was from scent alone. Her pale eyebrows popped up above the line of her mask. “Is this the mate I’ve been hearing whispers about?” Grae took a step closer as she pointed her fan at me. “Take off your mask.”

“I—”

“Let me see the face of Graemon’s mate,” the Queen insisted.

With shaking hands, I reached back and untied the ribbon around my head, letting my mask fall into my hands. I looked up at the Queen. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, her pale eyes boring into mine, until I thought she might laugh or sneer or call me ugly, unworthy of Grae.

“Moonlit curses,” she whispered instead, her eyes roving my face. “Your mate isn’t another Silver Wolf, is it? I know a Gold Wolf when I see one.”

“How did you know?” Grae’s jacket sleeve brushed against mine, his shoulders raising like a hound ready to bolt.

“And not just any Gold Wolf,” she said, ignoring the question. She cocked her head, letting out a cackle. “I’m impressed you managed to keep this a secret, Graemon. A Marriel? How?”

“What makes you think I’m a Marriel?” I rasped as she prowled a step closer.

“Because you are your mother and father combined. You’ve got your father’s green eyes.” She scanned me from head to toe, reading my lineage etched into every feature. “And nose. You have Rose’s hair, though, and stature. I suppose those who knew them best are long gone, but anyone who remembered the King and Queen of Olmdere could see them in you in a heartbeat.”

The feathers on my shoulders fluttered as my chest rose and fell. She had cut to the core of us in a single passing glance. I had always thought Briar took more after our parents—that she looked like the truer Marriel. But with one discerning look, the Ice Wolf Queen had figured it out.