The Rose Society
Page 22
The other soldiers laugh, while the first one watches me thoughtfully. “An interesting pair, you two,” he mutters. “Very well. I’ve no doubt the Night King will have his fun.”
I let out a quiet breath and we join the dancers who have been accepted. As the guards open the gate and let us walk past, I notice the soldier’s eyes staying on us, his envy for the Night King obvious on his face. I lower my head and try to hide my thoughts.
Inside, the garden is lit with lanterns. Fireflies dance in the darkness, mingling with the low hum of laughter and movement. As we approach the center, the soldiers following us begin to fall back. Finally, the first soldier stops and turns to us.
“You know the rules,” he says. Then he remembers us, the newcomers, and adds, “You go where you’re invited, nowhere else. Stay in the courtyard grounds. Touch no wine or food unless offered to you by a guest. I’ll not hesitate to escort out anyone who causes a scene.” Then he gestures his permission for us to wander the garden.
“How do you think Magiano will get in?” Violetta whispers as we walk.
“I’m sure he’s already here,” I whisper back. Several guests walk by us, their eyes lingering on our faces. Violetta smiles sweetly at them, and their expressions relax. I watch her carefully, trying to follow her example.
It works well. We draw the right amount of attention for a pair of hired dancers. Men brush a little too closely to us, so that the silk of their sleeves touches our bare arms. We even attract the attention of the Night King’s other scattered soldiers—one of them pauses long enough to rub my shoulder. I stiffen at his touch.
“They’ve let in some exquisite dancers tonight,” he murmurs, nodding a greeting at both Violetta and me. Violetta blushes prettily at him, and he beams before continuing on his patrol of the grounds. I’m too surprised to do the same. The last time a soldier touched me, he cut a scar across my chest with his sword.
Seeing my expression, Violetta loops her arm through mine and bends close to my ear. “You must relax, mi Adelinetta,” she whispers. “Especially around the soldiers.”
She is right, of course. I remind myself that no one here can see the true, scarred side of my face. All they see is the illusion of my beauty.
The crowd turns steadily thicker as the evening lengthens. Gradually, as we search for the Night King, I begin to relax. Violetta points out a pair of handsome noblemen and, when they notice us, she giggles and turns away. I laugh along with her, letting her guide us as questions swirl in my mind. Are any of the Night King’s secret mercenaries here?
We wander the entire grounds of the garden before we finally stumble across the Night King’s entourage.
A circle of silk-clad noblemen talk and laugh in a private corner of the garden, where colorful cushions line the grass and a cheerful fire burns in a central pit. A whole roasted pig turns over the fire. Large plates of fragrant rice, dates, and stuffed melon surround the pit. Several dancers have clustered here, enchanting their audience with drumbeats and swirling silks. Others sit and laugh with their patrons.
I know immediately which of them is the Night King.
He is easily the most adorned of the circle, his fingers decorated with thick gold rings and his dark eyes accented with black powder. A slender crown sits on his head. A nobleman to his right is muttering something into his ear. On his left is one of his soldiers, draining the last drops from a wine cup. Several others stand guard nearby, their gloved hands poised over sword hilts. My gaze goes to the collar of his silk shirt.
An enormous diamond-encrusted pin hangs there. Small wonder why Magiano is after such a monstrous thing—I can see the glimmer of it from across the courtyard. I glance around. Magiano hasn’t made his move yet.
Violetta and I come upon the circle. When several noblemen glance up at us, I throw back my shoulders and give them my most dazzling smile. To my satisfaction, their eyes widen and they smile in return.
The Night King laughs as we approach. Then he gestures to a small space of cushions near him. “A night with the prettiest dancers in Merroutas,” he says as we fold our legs beneath us and sit. “Midsummer is kind to us.” His black-rimmed eyes linger on Violetta, then on me. It’s always in that order. “What are your names, my beauties?”
Violetta just gives him a coy smile, while I let myself blush. If only he knew that we are both malfettos.
“No malfettos dirtying your estate,” says the man sitting next to the Night King. “It’s getting harder, sir. Have you heard the news coming out of Kenettra?”
The Night King smiles at him. “What is the new royalty doing there?”
“The Lead Inquisitor of Kenettra has handed down a decree, sir,” the man replies. “All malfettos have already been removed from within the capital and set up in shelters outside the city walls.”
“And what’s to happen to them?” The Night King is still admiring both of us as he talks. He leans forward and offers us a platter of dates.
“Death, I’m sure. We’ve been turning away ships with malfetto stowaways.”
“The Lead Inquisitor,” the Night King muses. “The queen seems to be giving him quite a lot of power, isn’t she?”
The man nods. His eyes shine from the wine. “Well, you must know he’s always in her bed. He has been infatuated with her since he was a little boy.”
The Night King laughs, while we smile along. “Well,” he says, “congratulations to him on a royal conquest.”
I let out a quiet breath and we join the dancers who have been accepted. As the guards open the gate and let us walk past, I notice the soldier’s eyes staying on us, his envy for the Night King obvious on his face. I lower my head and try to hide my thoughts.
Inside, the garden is lit with lanterns. Fireflies dance in the darkness, mingling with the low hum of laughter and movement. As we approach the center, the soldiers following us begin to fall back. Finally, the first soldier stops and turns to us.
“You know the rules,” he says. Then he remembers us, the newcomers, and adds, “You go where you’re invited, nowhere else. Stay in the courtyard grounds. Touch no wine or food unless offered to you by a guest. I’ll not hesitate to escort out anyone who causes a scene.” Then he gestures his permission for us to wander the garden.
“How do you think Magiano will get in?” Violetta whispers as we walk.
“I’m sure he’s already here,” I whisper back. Several guests walk by us, their eyes lingering on our faces. Violetta smiles sweetly at them, and their expressions relax. I watch her carefully, trying to follow her example.
It works well. We draw the right amount of attention for a pair of hired dancers. Men brush a little too closely to us, so that the silk of their sleeves touches our bare arms. We even attract the attention of the Night King’s other scattered soldiers—one of them pauses long enough to rub my shoulder. I stiffen at his touch.
“They’ve let in some exquisite dancers tonight,” he murmurs, nodding a greeting at both Violetta and me. Violetta blushes prettily at him, and he beams before continuing on his patrol of the grounds. I’m too surprised to do the same. The last time a soldier touched me, he cut a scar across my chest with his sword.
Seeing my expression, Violetta loops her arm through mine and bends close to my ear. “You must relax, mi Adelinetta,” she whispers. “Especially around the soldiers.”
She is right, of course. I remind myself that no one here can see the true, scarred side of my face. All they see is the illusion of my beauty.
The crowd turns steadily thicker as the evening lengthens. Gradually, as we search for the Night King, I begin to relax. Violetta points out a pair of handsome noblemen and, when they notice us, she giggles and turns away. I laugh along with her, letting her guide us as questions swirl in my mind. Are any of the Night King’s secret mercenaries here?
We wander the entire grounds of the garden before we finally stumble across the Night King’s entourage.
A circle of silk-clad noblemen talk and laugh in a private corner of the garden, where colorful cushions line the grass and a cheerful fire burns in a central pit. A whole roasted pig turns over the fire. Large plates of fragrant rice, dates, and stuffed melon surround the pit. Several dancers have clustered here, enchanting their audience with drumbeats and swirling silks. Others sit and laugh with their patrons.
I know immediately which of them is the Night King.
He is easily the most adorned of the circle, his fingers decorated with thick gold rings and his dark eyes accented with black powder. A slender crown sits on his head. A nobleman to his right is muttering something into his ear. On his left is one of his soldiers, draining the last drops from a wine cup. Several others stand guard nearby, their gloved hands poised over sword hilts. My gaze goes to the collar of his silk shirt.
An enormous diamond-encrusted pin hangs there. Small wonder why Magiano is after such a monstrous thing—I can see the glimmer of it from across the courtyard. I glance around. Magiano hasn’t made his move yet.
Violetta and I come upon the circle. When several noblemen glance up at us, I throw back my shoulders and give them my most dazzling smile. To my satisfaction, their eyes widen and they smile in return.
The Night King laughs as we approach. Then he gestures to a small space of cushions near him. “A night with the prettiest dancers in Merroutas,” he says as we fold our legs beneath us and sit. “Midsummer is kind to us.” His black-rimmed eyes linger on Violetta, then on me. It’s always in that order. “What are your names, my beauties?”
Violetta just gives him a coy smile, while I let myself blush. If only he knew that we are both malfettos.
“No malfettos dirtying your estate,” says the man sitting next to the Night King. “It’s getting harder, sir. Have you heard the news coming out of Kenettra?”
The Night King smiles at him. “What is the new royalty doing there?”
“The Lead Inquisitor of Kenettra has handed down a decree, sir,” the man replies. “All malfettos have already been removed from within the capital and set up in shelters outside the city walls.”
“And what’s to happen to them?” The Night King is still admiring both of us as he talks. He leans forward and offers us a platter of dates.
“Death, I’m sure. We’ve been turning away ships with malfetto stowaways.”
“The Lead Inquisitor,” the Night King muses. “The queen seems to be giving him quite a lot of power, isn’t she?”
The man nods. His eyes shine from the wine. “Well, you must know he’s always in her bed. He has been infatuated with her since he was a little boy.”
The Night King laughs, while we smile along. “Well,” he says, “congratulations to him on a royal conquest.”
