there is a subtle tension in his movements.
“Promise me you’ll be careful in there,” he says under his breath. “We are only gathering information.”
“I will,” I whisper back, resisting the urge to remind him I’ve promised exactly that a dozen times already. “Always am.”
“I don’t know what I’d say to Marcus if I lost you.”
That takes me aback. Graylin’s never said anything like that to me. I don’t know how to respond. But I don’t get the chance to think of something, because Graylin veers off. His job, for now, is to chat up the crowd to see what he can discover; Brekken’s and mine is to get the lay of the land.
Brekken and I continue forward, my hand on his arm, and suddenly the doors are in front of us and we’re crossing the threshold. We’re inside.
What greets us is an opulent hallway, narrow and oppressively dark despite the glass lamps spaced at intervals along the walls. Deep, velvety rugs line the floor and shimmering brocade tapestries cover the walls. They zig and zag without logic, broken by occasional alcoves holding stuffed beasts—bears, deer, wolves—or wild sculptures of wood or stone. The overall mood is claustrophobic, threatening.
A few people walk by us, Fiordens either in drab servants’ uniforms or bright, extravagant finery, gaudier than what the delegates at Havenfall wear. They don’t pay us any mind, and we don’t speak, not wanting to draw attention to ourselves. I wish I had been better about studying the Myr language growing up, or that I was taller. I wish a lot of things, but I can’t dwell on them here. We have a job to do.
Eventually, the hallway feeds into a wide, crowded foyer, and it’s a simple matter from there to find the feast. People are streaming in and out of a set of tall double doors at the end of the room. There is light and noise and music. The atmosphere is festive, not so different from the nightly dances at Havenfall, just bigger, louder, more crowded, and fancier. But an air of menace hangs above it all, because I know the truth about this place. Everything—all this luxury and elegance—is funded by the soul trade.
Maybe that’s why there are guards stationed every twenty yards or so along the fortress walls. Uniformed in forest green wool coats with gold buttons, they stand tall and still amidst the swirl of the party. The gleaming, jeweled swords at their hips could plausibly be just decoration, but I don’t think they are. Although the other partygoers seem not to be bothered by the weapons, I can’t help but notice them. They are a reminder that this is a dangerous place. A deadly place.
Without a word, we pass through into the ballroom. It’s massive, all dull gold and gleaming stone. The floor is made of different kinds of wood, but as polished as if it’s covered by melted diamonds. Its surface is smooth and soundless beneath my boots, and I have to be careful not to slip, though it doesn’t seem to slow down the people dancing all around us. Skirts and capes and tailcoats whisk through the perfumed air. Rather than dance in consistent pairs as you’d expect on Earth, people here dance alone, sweeping and swirling, elegantly coming together with others, before separating, changing partners, and then separating once again. The overall effect is dizzying, and I’m glad for Brekken’s strong presence beside me.
A head table dominates the front of the room, and my gaze is drawn as if by a magnet to the Fiorden man who sits in the middle of it. Is this Cadius? My mother’s love? He’s tall, broad, and imposing, with a patrician face and neat dark hair. There is a small smile on his lips as he looks out over the hall. On a small dais between the head table and the rest of the room, a band plays strange stringed instruments I haven’t seen before.
Perhaps this is a normal enough celebration. But there’s an edge in the air, some kind of tension, a cruelty in the savage tempo of the music and the high laughter ringing from all directions.
My instincts tell me to pause, hoping not to be noticed, but Brekken propels us forward, bending down as he does to whisper in my ear.
“Don’t slow down,” he whispers. “That’ll make everyone look at you. Even if you don’t know what you’re doing, keep moving.”
I nod my understanding. He’s right, of course. The room is a