they fly, making shadows dance.
“Jude,” Locke says, touching my arm, startling me. His fox eyes crinkle in amusement. “I admit, I am a little jealous to see Cardan parading you around on his arm.”
I take a step back. “I don’t have time for this.”
“I liked you, you know,” he says. “I like you still.”
For a moment, I wonder what would happen if I hauled off and punched him.
“Go away, Locke,” I tell him.
His smile returns. “The thing I like best is how you never do what I imagine you will. For instance, I didn’t think you’d duel over me.”
“I didn’t.” I pull away from him and head to the table, a little unsteady on my feet.
“There you are,” Cardan says as I take my place beside him. “How has the night been going for you? Mine has been full of dull conversations about how my head is going to find itself on a spike.”
My hands shake as I take my place. I tell myself that it’s just the poison. My mouth is dry. I find myself without the wit for verbal sparring. Servants set down dishes—roasted goose shining with currant glaze, oysters and stewed ramps, acorn cakes and whole fish stuffed with rose hips. Wine is poured, dark green with pieces of gold floating in it. I watch them sink to the bottom of the glass, shining sediment.
“Have I told you how hideous you look tonight?” Cardan asks, leaning back in the elaborately carved chair, the warmth of his words turning the question into something like a compliment.
“No,” I say, glad to be annoyed back into the present. “Tell me.”
“I cannot,” he says, then frowns. “Jude?” I may never be used to the sound of my name on his lips. His brows draw together. “There’s a bruise coming up on your jaw.”
I take a deep drink of water. “I’m fine,” I tell him.
It’s not long now.
Balekin stands and raises his glass.
I shove back my chair, so that I am on my feet when the explosion happens. For a moment, everything is so loud that it feels like the room is tilting sideways. The Folk scream. Crystal goblets fall and shatter.
The Bomb has struck.
In the confusion, a single black bolt flies from a shadowed alcove and sinks into the wooden table right in front of Cardan.
Balekin leaps to his feet. “There,” he shouts. “The assassin!” Knights run toward the Roach, who leaps out of the gloom and shoots again.
Another bolt flies toward Cardan, who pretends to be too stunned to move, just the way we practiced. The Roach explained to Cardan in great detail how it would be much safer to be still, much easier to miss him that way.
What we didn’t count on is Balekin. He knocks Cardan out of the chair, throws him to the floor, and covers Cardan’s body with his own. As I stare at them, I realize how little I’ve understood their relationship. Because, yes, Balekin hasn’t noticed that the Ghost has climbed onto the ledge with the Blood Crown. Yes, he sent his knights after the Roach, allowing the Bomb to bar the doors of this room.
But he has also reminded Cardan of why not to go forward with this plan.
I have been thinking of Balekin as the brother Cardan hated, as the brother who’d murdered their whole family. I’d forgotten that Balekin is Cardan’s family. Balekin is the person who raised him when Dain plotted against him, when his father sent him from the palace. Balekin is all he has left.
And, although I am sure Balekin would make for a terrible king, one who would hurt Cardan along with many others—I am equally sure that he would give Cardan power. Cardan would be allowed to be cruel, so long as it was clear that Balekin was crueler.
Putting the crown on Balekin’s head was a safe bet. Much safer than trusting me, than believing in some future Oak. He’s pledged himself to me. I just need to take care he doesn’t find some way around my commands.
I am a beat behind, and it’s harder to push through the crowd than I thought, so I am not where I told the Ghost I would be. When I look up at the ledge, he’s there, moving out of shadow. He throws the crown, but not to me. The Ghost tosses the crown to my identical twin. It falls at Taryn’s feet.
Vivi has taken Oak’s hand. Lord Roiben is pushing through the crowd.
Taryn picks up the crown.
“Give it