Phoenix Flame - Sara Holland Page 0,42
blur of motion and bright color. As much as I want to squeeze myself into a corner and hope no one notices me, that’s a surefire way to be noticed. So I keep pace with Brekken as we walk past the band and join the dance.
We fall into step easily, the muscle memory of however many summers in Havenfall’s ballroom taking over, even though the music is different. Even with the task ahead of us, part of me just wants to appreciate this moment, my body pressed close to Brekken’s as one of his hands twines through mine while the other cradles my waist. But I can’t feel the romance. Something seems so wrong here.
And then I realize why the light in the room has such a strange quality. Silver is inlaid into the walls and ceiling, forming ornate shapes, such as flowering vines and snowflakes and the silhouettes of slender dancing figures. It’s flush with the wall, as if the lines were carved into the wooden walls and then molten silver poured in. It reminds me of ancient pottery I’ve seen at the museum in Denver, where artists mended cracks in ceramic with liquid gold. But rather than beautiful, the effect here is sinister. There’s an opalescent shimmer to the silver, like something alive moves under the smooth surface.
Something alive. Like a soul.
It’s Haven silver, I realize with a shock. I’d been drifting toward the nearest wall, my hand reaching out almost touching the figure of a twirling woman engraved there, but I quickly snatch my hand back as if from a stove burner. I don’t want to touch the metal created to hold Solarians’ fragmented souls.
The evil of it makes me shudder. I keep my eyes open over Brekken’s shoulder as we spin, and I see people looking up at the man at the head table, Cadius Winterkill, the lord of this castle. Lips part in leering smiles. And even though I don’t understand the words people are calling out at him, I feel like I can make out their jeering, laughing tones.
Princess Enetta had said no one reputable went to these parties. How much does everyone here know about the soul trade?
“What are they saying?” I whisper to Brekken. I feel him tense at the little spot where his jaw rests against my temple.
“Nothing interesting,” he says after a moment. “Jokes.”
Anger shoots through me that these Fiordens—who must know what Cadius is up to—are joking. They are joking as the reflected light of the soul-silver plays off their beautiful clothes.
Automatically, my hand drops to pat the walkie-talkie strapped to my thigh, half checking to make sure it’s still there, half hoping that I’ll feel it chirp with a message. I don’t want any part of this ball. I just want to find the Solarians who must be trapped here somewhere, get away from this place as fast as I can, and take everyone I love with me.
“Has anyone mentioned the Solarians?” I grab Brekken’s waist tight, wanting to keep as close to him as I can, as much out of fear as of desire. “Or the armor?”
I feel him shake his head. “Not that I’ve noticed.”
“Maybe we should talk to someone,” I whisper, trying to think above the clamorous music, which seems to take pleasure in its own discordance. “Just casually to see if anyone knows anything.”
“They’ll want to know who you are, and then they’ll notice you don’t speak the language.”
Again I curse myself for never learning the languages of the Realms when I was a kid, when it would have been easy, my brain malleable. Graylin would have taught me, but I was too busy chasing squirrels and playing hide-and-seek with Nate, and later with Brekken.
I see a serving table set up along one side of the room and nod at it, leading Brekken to follow my gaze.
“You talk to someone, then. I’ll, uh, go get some food or something.” The last thing I want to do is eat anything, but we can’t just dance around until the feast is over.
Brekken doesn’t let me go right away, though. “We’re supposed to stay together.”
“I won’t go out of sight,” I promise.
He pulls back enough to look into my face, and I see the familiar glint of stubbornness in his eyes. He knows it’s a good idea, but he doesn’t want to separate.
“Who should I talk to?” he asks.
“Cadius? Would he recognize you?”
Brekken hesitates and looks up at the head table. “I don’t think so …”
“Then talk