From the density of political pandemonium, Arin of Nizahl rose. He mapped every visible path to the finish, and he secured his victory.
I swallowed past the knot in my throat. “If I do this, Sefa and Marek will be assigned soldiers to escort them to Mahair.”
“Plenty,” Arin confirmed. I could sense his gaze on the side of my face. “The soldiers will be tasked with protecting Mahair in case Vaida seeks retribution.”
I traced shapes into the fogged window. Lukubis did not have the constitution to be viciously exiled from their land, nor the magic to weave themselves into strange societies.
“Only you are capable of painting murder as the logical choice.”
Arin’s breath brushed the top of my head. If I turned around, I had a notion we’d be no more than a hairsbreadth apart. “Are we agreed?”
I tore my gaze from the glittering kingdom.
“We are.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Like a good little Champion, I allowed the attendants to help me dress for the banquet. Zizi, Mirna, and Ava chattered away while they untangled my hair and fussed with my gown. Comments about the meal, the guests, the wandering guards. They tried to rub sweet-smelling oils on my body, but I slapped their hands away. My politeness had its limits.
Since they were here as the Heir’s staff, Sefa and Marek would be dining with the soldiers. After the attendants departed, I dug out Rory’s golden gloves from my parcels. I needed an anchor to home, a line I could follow to shore in a sea of unknown.
I laid a palm on the mirror. The woman in the reflection cut an imposing figure in a billowing black gown. Thin violet lace crisscrossed from her hips to her breasts, exposing ribbons of her skin. The skirt fell shorter in the front, revealing her heeled boots, and trailed in a silky spill behind her. The Nizahl emblem hung from her pendant, displayed below her collarbones. Her hair fell in shiny ropes around her.
Regal. Striking. A false queen.
I clasped the pendant and shut my eyes. I let myself imagine ripping it from around my neck and grinding it beneath my boot. Tearing myself from this gown and setting it aflame, scouring the taint of Nizahl from my body in boiling water.
Standing in a Nizahlan gown, under a Lukubi roof, I felt more like the Jasad Heir than ever. Was it possible to miss someone you had almost been? Someone who but for a stumble in the sands of fate, I would have become.
Inexplicably, the watch guard frog hopped into my thoughts. Its frenzied croak averting its fellow frogs from my clutches at its own expense. What made the watch guard braver than the frogs who fled?
I opened my eyes. Rubbing the soft metal of my cuffs, I focused on why I was here. I would be almost-Essiya until the end of the Alcalah, when I would finally become Sylvia. I was my own most persistent ghost, and I had grown weary of her haunting.
I opened the door. Wes’s brows nearly disappeared to the back of his head. “Huh.”
Articulate. I walked at a fast clip down the crowded hall. We were to gather at the massive stairwell on the second floor. Each ruler but Vaida would descend with their Champion. If I wound up late twice and interrupted Vaida’s grand entrance, Arin might just elect to push me down the stairs.
A group of guards, royals, and Champions had gathered at the head of the stairs, milling around in conversation. A hum of anticipation vibrated in the air. I scanned for Arin and found him tucked into an alcove, arms crossed over his chest. The only color in his black ensemble was a violet belt around his trim waist and the matching detailing on his coat. He had brushed his hair back, but a renegade silver lock fell over his temple. Broad-shouldered and polished, Arin observed the others with feigned boredom. A predator playing at docility, probably contemplating the creative ways someone could try to kill him. He was the most achingly beautiful threat I’d ever seen.
Arin glanced up and froze. A myriad of emotions flashed over his features, too many and too complicated to name.
He straightened, gaze roaming over my gown. “Sefa did wonderful work on your dress.” He sounded dazed. I had watched him bleed half to death without sounding anything but composed. “Although you are certainly not endearing yourself to Vaida.”
“Oh?” I managed.
“It’s customary for the hostess to outshine her guests.” Arin’s eyes swirled with humor and something quieter, more intimate. Just for me. “You’ve made that impossible.”
I barely heard him. The most bizarre sensation trembled through me. A violence I didn’t recognize. Violence… that wasn’t the right word.
Against my own volition, I touched the loose hair at his temple. Arin held himself still as a statue while I swept the strand behind his ear. My fingers lingered against the strong line of his jaw. I had the most irrational wish for my gloves to dissolve into ash. But without them, he couldn’t have allowed my touch to begin with.