Ash Princess (Ash Princess Trilogy #1)(66)
The thought sours my stomach.
“I’m half sure Crescentia went to all this trouble more to draw you out than to celebrate me,” a stiff voice says from just behind my left shoulder. “She’s been very put out these last few days without you.”
My worst nightmares swim before my eyes, and I have to stop myself from shuddering. I’m grateful to have my dagger so close, even if I can’t imagine actually using it. Being in the Theyn’s presence always feels like suffocating. It sends me into a panic of rapid heartbeats, blurred thoughts, and cold sweat, though I try not to show it. I am suddenly six years old again and watching him slaughter my mother. I am seven and he’s holding the whip while the Kaiser pries my name from my mind. I am eight, nine, ten, and he’s standing over me with a bucket of ice water, a fire poker—whatever the Kaiser instructs him to use to drive Theodosia out of me so that Thora is all that’s left.
He wouldn’t hurt me here. I know that. Still, I can’t help but run through all my secrets, all my plots, sure that he can read them as clearly as words on a page.
“She’s very kind,” I force myself to say. “I’m lucky to have her as a friend.”
“You are,” he agrees, but there’s a threat in his tone that I don’t miss. Of course, everything the Theyn says to me sounds like a threat. The Theyn is a threat, whether he speaks or not.
“I’m very sorry for all the trouble in the mines,” I continue, as if I had anything to do with that. I wish I did. I wish I had been able to accomplish something so large. “I know Crescentia missed you terribly.” I’m not sure that’s true, since Cress never really talks with me about her feelings about her father. Still, it seems like the right thing to say.
“And I missed her,” he replies after a beat.
“She’ll make a wonderful prinzessin, I think.” It’s a struggle to keep my voice light and conversational, to keep my hands from shaking, but I manage. The Theyn thrives on fear; he can smell it like a hunting dog.
For a moment, we both watch Crescentia as she gives the Kaiser a dimpled smile, wrapping him tighter around her finger.
“She was born to be,” the Theyn says finally.
I sneak a glance at him and immediately wish I hadn’t. The way he’s watching Crescentia makes my chest ache, because how dare he? How dare he love his daughter when he took my mother away? Because of him, I will never see my mother look at me like that. He is a stone, incapable of feeling anything, and I don’t like being reminded that he’s also human. I don’t like being reminded that we both love the same person.
Crescentia turns our way and her blinding smile grows wider. She excuses herself from the Kaiser with a softly spoken word and a brief touch of her hand to his arm. The Kaiser follows her gaze and the look in his eyes presses in around my chest until I can scarcely breathe.
“Excuse me, please,” I say to the Theyn, ducking away. Even as I retreat, I feel the Kaiser watching me, always watching me. His gaze spreads decay on my skin and I yearn for a bath to scrub it off.
I am a lamb in the lion’s den. How can I be any kind of queen when I am so easily frightened? Artemisia wouldn’t cower from the Kaiser; she wouldn’t hesitate to plunge the dagger into his chest here and now, no matter what it cost her.
“Thora!” Crescentia calls after me. I slow my steps but I don’t turn back, too frightened of meeting the Kaiser’s gaze again. Too frightened of what I’ll find there.
Cress falls into step next to me and loops her arm through mine. “I’m so glad you came. You look lovely.”
Her quick gray eyes dart up to take in the crumbling crown, the ash I can feel covering my face, neck, and shoulders. It itches terribly, but I don’t dare scratch. Better to pretend it isn’t there at all.
“Thank you,” I tell her with a forced smile I hope seems natural. “It was so kind of you to send the dress. We could be sisters tonight.” I squeeze her arm and try to ignore the guilt seeping into my gut.
“We are,” she replies with a smile that feels like a blow to my heart.
There is nothing to say to that. All I can give her are lies, and I can’t do that tonight, not to her.
All I am is a lie, I remind myself. Thora is a lie. But that isn’t the whole truth.
My mouth opens and I’m not entirely sure what will come out, but before I can say a word, a boy with a golden-horned ram half-mask approaches. Even with his scar gone and his features blurred to give him a more northern look, I’d recognize Blaise anywhere. I glance around the room warily, knowing that Artemisia must be nearby as well, to hold this illusion, but if she is, I can’t see her. There are too many people, too many masks.
“A dance, Lady Thora?” Even beneath the mask, I can see his mouth twist unpleasantly around my false name like it’s a curse. He’s never had to call me that before, and I can tell he hates himself a bit for it, even if it is unavoidable.
Crescentia’s blond eyebrows arch so high they nearly disappear into her hair, but her mouth is smiling as she nudges me toward him. Though he is the last person I want to talk to, I have no choice but to take his hand and let him lead me onto the dance floor.
“Are you insane?” I hiss, sticking to Kalovaxian and moving my lips as little as possible. “If you’re caught—”
“It’s a maskentanz,” he says, overemphasizing the hard edges of the Kalovaxian word so that it sounds more like a hacking cough. “There’s little chance of that.”