Nocturna (A Forgery of Magic #1)(109)

Instead, Luka was sitting on Alfie’s gilded throne beside the king’s and queen’s on the far side of the ballroom, opposite the grand marble staircase. Guests were announced, sauntered down the stairs, and strode across the ballroom to bow before the royal family with practiced smiles as the ball unfolded before them. Luka cursed himself for destroying the parchment Alfie had given him. Now he had no way of knowing if Alfie was okay. The worry pounded between his ears, its rhythm steady and fierce.

Castallan’s noblest danced and mingled on the glimmering, tiled floor. The ballroom was dressed in curtains magicked to darken and brighten throughout the night. Candles floated throughout as if stars had been charmed down from the heavens. The Equinox Festival was about the balance of dark and light, and the ball’s decor never ceased to reflect that. The domed ceiling of the ballroom was a patchwork of stained glass that, during the day, cast shadows in every color imaginable. But today he could only see the outline of the moon looming overhead, as if blocked by sheer, colored tissue paper, but Luka couldn’t let himself get lost in the tequila and the opulence of the ball as he usually would. Not with Alfie’s words echoing in his mind in an endless chant.

But if I fail, if I don’t come back, I need you to tell Paloma the truth and try to put a stop to this.

Was now the time? Had he failed? The world had yet to come crashing down around him, but still, Alfie had been gone for so long. He would not miss such an important night unless something terrible was happening.

If he was still alive, that is.

At that thought, Luka stood from the throne and started across the ballroom, his gold cape swishing at his ankles as he moved. He stepped around the nobleman who had come to greet him without a word. He pretended not to hear the queen ask where he was rushing to. He ignored the faces confused at his rudeness. There was no time for that anymore. Not now. Paloma stood in her formal due?a robes, trimmed in gold, at the far side of the ballroom, always preferring to keep out of the social politics of royal balls.

“Paloma,” Luka said, gripping her by the shoulder. She raised her brows, glancing at where his hand gripped her shoulder before looking at his face.

“Prince Alfehr,” she said, her eyes searching his face. “What is it?”

It was wholly improper to touch a due?a in such a way, but Luka was done with propriety. “I’m not Prince Alfie,” he admitted. He thought saying that aloud would be freeing, but instead he felt as if he’d been stripped of his coat in the dead of winter, exposing himself to the elements, to the consequences of this foolish lie he’d agreed to.

“I beg your pardon?” Paloma said, pulling from his grip. Her voice dropped to a murmur, conscious of the nobles looking their way. “Have you been drinking?”

He swallowed thickly, his fear that Alfie was already dead crawling up his throat like bile. “There’s something I need to tell you.”





34


The Two Princes of Castallan


The carriage rolled down the stone bridge across the lake and onto the palace grounds, where guests walked daintily up the castle’s stairs to be announced at the ball.

“Out of the maldito way!” Alfie shouted as a pair of nobles yelped, picked up their skirts, and dashed away as Finn pulled the carriage to a screeching halt at the palace stairs. The ride had given him the rest he needed and though his body still ached from Sombra’s magic, he felt renewed, ready to fight for his kingdom.

He stepped off the carriage, and the guards were upon them in a moment.

Alfie raised his hands in a flat-palmed defense. “I am Prince Alfehr, heir to the throne of Castallan. I have urgent news.”

A guard gave a bark of laughter, his eyes sliding over Alfie’s tattered due?o’s robes. “Are you drunk, muchacho? Prince Alfehr is inside enjoying the festivities.”

The guards surrounded their carriage in a wide ring, hands on the hilts of their swords.

One guard stared up at Finn where she sat at the head of his carriage, his brows raised. “May I see your invitation?”

“Sure.” Finn raised her foot and kicked the man in the face. He fell onto his back and swore, his hands flying to his bleeding nose.

The nobles hurried inside, scandalized at the sight as the guards pulled closer.

“Listen to me!” Alfie shouted. “We’re not here to hurt anyone.”

“Speak for yourself,” Finn murmured from her seat. Alfie shot her a look.

“I am Prince Alfehr and I’m here to warn of an attack. Let me into the palace at once!”

“Not likely, chico.” A guard raised his sword, but a column of rock rose between his legs, knocking him in the groin. Alfie needn’t look over his shoulder to know Finn had done it.

Another guard surged into his place, his fist raised, and before Alfie knew it, he’d pulled a coil of water from the lake and frozen it into a globe about his fist. He landed a punch to the man’s cheek, sending him staggering away.

Then Finn was at his side, her brows raised as she looked at his ice-coated fist.

Alfie relished the bit of pride he saw curving her lips. “Learned from the best.”

In that moment of distraction, a guard sent a stone pounding into Alfie’s stomach. He doubled over, clutching at his knees as he tried to draw breath.

Finn stood before him, pelting the approaching guards with stones, nailing two right in the nose and parting the ground to swallow another until only his head was visible.