too small and dainty. I’m going to need about fifty workers levitating trays my way if I’m ever going to get enough for a meal.
Another pastry floats toward me, and I jolt when this one bursts on my tongue not with cream, but delicious stewed meat. The worker laughs at my reaction, and suddenly I’m surrounded by pastries that dance around me, just waiting to be plucked from the sky.
Talk about service. The moment I reach for more, however, Nelly frowns and takes hold of my hand.
“There will be time for food later.” She pulls me alongside her with a surprisingly firm grip, steering us toward the party with determination glinting in her eyes. Excitement buzzes off her skin as she pulls me straight through the crowd and to the edge of a roiling sea of people. Casem’s hustling to keep up as Nelly drops my hand to loudly clap her own.
“Esteemed people of Curmana,” she begins with a toothy grin. “Tonight, I have the pleasure of announcing this evening’s most honored guest, the Queen of Visidia, Her Majesty Amora Montara.”
All eyes turn to me. Verbal conversations ebb as backs straighten. Chins lift and chests puff as appraising eyes roam over me. I do my best not to glare at anyone whose stare lingers too long or seems too hungry. Here in public, before the eyes of everyone, I will be polite. Face-to-face, however, I’m not responsible for whether my dagger accidentally grazes those who eye me like I’m a prize to win, or for how many times I step on their toes.
When the crowd lowers themselves into a bow, I politely wave their gesture away. In the past, I would have reveled in their display, letting their respect wash over me and fill me with pride. Now when I look upon them, all I see are the faces of the dead staring back.
How many of these people lost loved ones during Kaven’s attack? During the storms on Kerost?
I am a liar who should not be standing here; the Montaras are nothing more than a facade, no more powerful than the next person. The beast my great ancestor Cato once warned us about was nothing more than a ploy for him to gain power.
And yet these people bow to me, because not a single one of them knows the truth.
I do everything I can to ground myself in the earth, fighting the urge to turn and flee from the eyes watching me. But Ornell could be here in this crowd, and I’ll maintain this charade until I find him, no matter what it takes.
Cato Montara was a coward. Aunt Kalea was a coward. Father was a coward.
I will not be.
“Please,” I say with what I hope sounds like a gentle laugh. “There’s no need for that tonight. Do you see a crown on my head?” I wait, smiling. “Call me Amora. And as the night goes on, I hope I have the pleasure to meet every one of you. Not as your queen, but…” I stall, drawing in a breath to make myself look a little nervous. I press my lips together, then look up at them from beneath my lashes, playing the role of the friendly queen, demure and hoping to find her king. “Just as myself.”
Casem steps up to be my escort down the shore, his lips quirking in amusement, which I take to mean I’m doing my job right. He sets a hand upon my shoulder and faces the crowd to address them himself, having somehow made his plate of food disappear.
“As you all know, Her Majesty’s looking for a suitor. Someone who will be king.” He wags his brows, and I try not to gag because there’s no way any random bachelor I meet could ever become Visidia’s king as though it were some contest. Not when I’ve trained so long and so hard for it, and still don’t have the faintest clue what I’m doing half the time. And yet I keep that smile plastered to my lips for dear life as Nelly joins in.
“The night is young,” she says, “and everyone will have their turn. So, please be patient, and let the festivities begin!”
Gently, Casem squeezes my hand and leads me down the remaining steps. “Make sure you get some wine,” he says by way of encouragement. “You’re going to need it.”
* * *
Casem wasn’t lying.
Though I expected more courting and less politics, three hours and two glasses of sparkling wine in, I’ve danced