The Orphan Queen (The Orphan Queen #1)(17)
“A carriage? Where is the ball?” I pressed my eyebrows together, as though uncertain of being taken from the palace already. Attending a ball seemed like expecting a lot of two young women who’d just been through tragedy, but Melanie and I needed the introduction into society. We’d simply have to work harder to maintain our story.
“It’ll be at the Chuter mansion, my lady. The family has a home in Hawksbill, like many lords and ladies. They stay in the palace only rarely, though most keep rooms here.”
This was good. It meant we’d see more of Hawksbill from ground level. Without having to hide or pretend we were maids, like we usually did.
The afternoon passed quickly as we tried on the gowns and held still while the cloth was pinned. A seamstress came in to make quick alterations while the maid busied herself with our hair and cosmetics and jewelry.
At last, the transformation was complete. I wore deep russet and silver, with a silver teardrop pendant hanging just below my collarbone. The maid had pulled my hair back into an intricate braid, revealing rather severe cheekbones, which she softened with rose powder.
When they stepped away and I finally saw myself in the mirror, it showed what I might have been if I’d grown up in Aecor: a princess.
SIX
THE CARRIAGES ARRIVED as the sun slipped into the west, lighting the city’s mirrors with orange flame.
Melanie and I waited in the front hall with handfuls of others, everyone clothed in their most elegant attire. Men strode around in their tailcoats, looking impatient. Ladies glanced at mirrors to make last-minute adjustments to their coiled braids or shimmering gowns. Finally, guards hauled open the heavy glass doors and nobles poured outside, into the waiting carriages.
“This one is yours.” A valet led us toward a white carriage at the end of the line, a silver cresting wave painted onto the door: the sigil for House of the Sea.
I tipped up my chin and stepped into the carriage, not bothering with his offered hand. Once Melanie was inside, the door shut and ours followed the other carriages down the palace drive and into Hawksbill.
We drove by columned mansions with intricate reliefs carved into the stone, and long, winding drives bordered by generous gardens and fountains. Roses and ivy hung on iron trellises, and flags bearing house sigils fluttered in the breeze. Dragon. Sea. Unicorn. Sun.
The caravan of carriages turned along the winding streets, and reflected sunlight shone straight through our window, forcing us to close the curtains or go blind. For the moment, we were alone. “We’re still reeling from our trek through the wraithland,” I said, even though Melanie didn’t need the reminder. The clip-clop of horse hooves covered my voice.
Melanie nodded. “But we’re trying to fit in like nothing’s wrong. We don’t want to talk about our experiences. We don’t even want to talk about home. We’re afraid if we do, we’ll show weakness.”
“Perfect. We’ll remain the enigmatic beauties of the evening.” I held my face straight for a heartbeat, until Melanie cracked a smile and we both fought off a fit of giggles.
It wasn’t a long trip; it’d have been quicker to walk than wait in the carriage line for ours to reach the front door, but walking would have been unseemly. Practicality almost always was.
But when the door opened, the vision of lights was worth the wait.
The Chuter mansion boasted a dozen columns carved from marble, each with a sprinkling of tiny mirrors, which threw off the sun’s light. Cold torches waited for dusk, still over an hour away, but the buzzing of crickets already filled the air.
Wind breathed through the surrounding gardens and trees, spurring me to follow the others as they entered the mansion. The whole place reeked of opulence, and so did Chey’s guests. No one stopped to look or admire, like such a display of wealth was an everyday occurrence.
It was for them. Melanie and I were the only ones trying not to gape as we hurried after everyone.
“I didn’t see Tobiah,” she muttered as we entered the mansion.
Good. “Maybe he wasn’t invited. Or didn’t want to come. I heard he refuses to attend most social events.” Warring scents of rose and honeysuckle filled the mansion’s front hall, making my head spin.
“The dining hall is through here.” A footman gestured to the left, his tone holding all the enthusiasm of having said those exact words five thousand times tonight; we were among the last to arrive.
One of the house staff led us through the dining hall, resplendent with crystal chandeliers and glossy wood panels along the walls. A string quartet sat in the corner, their music nearly drowned out by the several dozen guests talking.
“Here are your seats.” The footman pulled out two chairs at the lower end of the table, next to a handful of men in military uniforms.
A surge of disgust made my face hot.
I saw soldiers of the Indigo Army every time I came to Skyvale, but I’d never been forced to share a meal with men who might have been there during the One-Night War. With men who might have murdered citizens of Aecor City, high nobility, and my parents.
Focusing on calming breaths, I accepted the cushioned chair and arranged the russet gown over my lap.
“Oh, thank saints.” A young man wearing the uniform of the Indigo Order offered a wide smile. His hair was short, in the style of most soldiers, but the top buttons of his jacket were undone, as though he hated even that much confinement.