I hopped into the dress, staggering around the room. “No, no, no! How could you let me sleep so late?”
“Me?” Jeru returned, indignant. “Marek and Sefa tried to wake you up three times before they went to eat.”
The dress slipped over me in a whisper of silk, settling over my curves. Sefa’s painstaking work hadn’t been in vain. The dress was long, swirling with hues of violet. Matching slits parted over each leg, and two tiny Nizahl pins held up the thin straps at my shoulders. Had I not been so terribly late, I would have found another dress. These slits hiked mid-thigh, showing miles of skin when I moved.
I scowled at myself in the mirror and rushed out the door.
Jeru stared. “Is that what you’re wearing?”
“Yes. Maybe,” I picked at the fabric. “The banquet isn’t until tomorrow. Nobody will notice.”
Jeru started to speak and reconsidered. He shook his head. “Sefa is certainly familiar with Lukub’s fashions.”
We sped past bustling servants and halls decorated in elaborate tapestries and delicate carvings. We took turn after turn, and I wondered if perhaps I should have asked Arin to share his map of the Ivory Palace. He had given me stacks of reading to complete the first three weeks, mostly layouts of buildings we’d enter, history texts, and instructions on following the customs expected of a Champion in each kingdom. I hadn’t paid them much attention, since the only free time I had was the fifteen minutes between my bath and falling into a dead sleep. I regretted it—the grandeur of this palace ensured I would lose my way.
The walls changed from shades of red to pure ivory. The art on the walls tapered to a small collection of frames set inside the wall. I wanted to stop and study them, but Jeru urged me along. We had reached the Sultana’s wing.
A heavy velvet curtain blocked the next hall. Jeru pulled it aside, unveiling parallel rows of guards lining the walls. Nizahl on one side, Lukub on the other.
“The Nizahl Champion,” Jeru said. He prodded me forward.
The Lukub guards glared. The Nizahl ones smiled. I did not know which was worse.
Go, Jeru mouthed. I forced myself into motion.
A soldier on each side gripped a bar on the doors and heaved. They split, yawning open to reveal a receiving room even more lavish with decorations than the halls. Ribbons braided into spherical shapes dangled from the ceiling. Strips of gauzy curtain slanted around the ribbons and fluttered along the walls. A sleek bird with a white beak and riotously red feathers hopped in a cage shaped to resemble a Ruby Hound.
Arin and a stunningly beautiful woman sat across from each other, a tray of delicate desserts arranged between them. They both glanced up at my arrival.
Arin was the image of poise. Not a single strand of hair escaped from the tie at his nape, and he’d traded his usual uniform for more regal fare. The two of them together made for an arresting sight. I smoothed my hands along the dress, barely stopping myself from fidgeting with the fabric. I longed for the comfort of familiar clothes.
“Your Majesty.” I dipped my head. “It is an honor.”
When Sultana Vaida approached me, my jaw slackened. Lithe and graceful, she carried herself with the assurance of someone thrice her age. Her white gown glowed against smooth, dark skin. Dozens and dozens of intricate braids tumbled to her waist, tiny white and ruby flowers woven painstakingly through them. Slender and broad-shouldered, she regarded me with clever, dark brown eyes.
“Sylvia of Mahair. The honor is mine.” Before I could react, she leaned forward to kiss my cheek. My eye twitched, but I successfully refrained from flinching at the contact. “Join us, won’t you?”
“Forgive me my tardiness,” I said, seating myself beside Arin on the curved settee. To my surprise, he didn’t make room. Was he staying close in case he needed to intervene? I kept my hands in my lap, intensely aware of their proximity to Arin’s thigh.
Vaida waved a heavily ringed hand. “I loathe overnight campaigns in those woods. I don’t blame you one bit. I am forever attached to my creature comforts.”
“We were discussing how rapidly you’ve progressed in your training,” Arin said.
“I’ve had excellent help.”
Vaida giggled, a musical sound. “Don’t demur, darling, not in my company!”
Unbidden, Arin’s warnings about Vaida rose to the forefront. He’d spent hours detailing what to expect from everyone we would encounter during the Alcalah. His description of the Sultana had puzzled me.
“Vaida must believe you are insignificant, a simple village orphan with aspirations of glory. Do not challenge her or distinguish yourself in any way,” he had said. “The Sultana plays with people, bats them around for her own entertainment. But if she thinks you merit a second glance, she will make it her dying mission to eviscerate your secrets and reap your soul.”