Reign of the Fallen (Reign of the Fallen #1)(37)
Shadow Evander aims a kick at the door in response.
“I need you, and you’re not here,” I whisper as he flickers and disappears beneath my bleary gaze. “I miss you. We all miss you.”
I think of Jax with a guilty pang. Shadow Evander’s look of betrayal would be far worse if he ever appeared in Jax’s darkened room to find us in the bed we now share out of desperation. “I love you. And I’m sorry.”
Tonight, I’ll put on the blue silk dress that drove Evander mad when we were in public and all he could do was hold my hand. And I’ll dance, and drink, and fake a smile for everyone who smiles at me.
Tonight, I’m going to live. One last time.
XII
A pounding on my door nearly causes me to drop my latest dose of potion.
“Sparrow, let’s go,” Jax calls. “I don’t want to miss the first batch of party food. We’ll be lucky if the Dead leave us scraps.”
I swallow the contents of the vial in one huge gulp, then try to tug my dress up to cover more of my chest even though I know it’s pointless. I shake my dark brown waves loose from the butterfly pin holding them up and let my hair fall over my shoulders. I grab a second vial from my stash and splash more blue liquid down my throat. I want to make sure Evander is within reach tonight.
As if reading my thoughts, he appears from behind my wardrobe, smiling appraisingly at my dress.
When I open the door to the hall, Jax is standing off to one side, staring at a painting of King Wylding in his shroud. If not for the crown, it could be a portrait of any of the Dead.
As usual, Jax has put on his finest for the royal celebration: black silk robes, his only adornments a longsword in a golden scabbard and his master necromancer’s sapphire pin.
I prop a hand on my hip. “What are you doing out here, anyway?” I assumed I’d see him at the party, hovering near the banquet tables or trying to outdrink the Dead.
Jax’s copper skin gleams in the torchlight of the hall as he turns to me, his eyes uncertain. “I thought we’d go together.” He shrugs. “If you’d rather go alone, I’ll give you five minutes’ head start.” He points to the left, down the hallway. “The party’s that way.”
“This isn’t . . .” I pause and lick my lips, struggling for words. I need Jax in a way I’ve never needed anyone before, but he can’t fill Evander’s place at my side. “This isn’t like that. We’re not like that.”
Jax scowls. “Like what? You mean we’re not friends anymore?”
I shake my head, relieved, and twine my arm around his. “Of course we are. Lead the way.”
The palace courtyard looks much as it did on the night of the Festival of Cloud, only there are no nuns in charcoal-gray habits or any roaring bonfires. Instead, glass jars filled with water and tiny candles perched on every ledge overhead give the impression of floating lights. There’s a large space for dancing, and the musicians who aren’t currently performing roam among the crowd, their chests thrown out to show off the gleaming silver harp pins bestowed upon them by King Wylding, eating their fill before they take the stage.
Gathered around a magnificent display of tarts, the queen and her ladies-in-waiting are deep in conversation. The gold bangles and other gems on their shrouded figures chime softly with each gesture, the air around them thick with citrus and spice, as though they’ve all doused themselves in bergamot perfume.
There’s no sign of King Wylding yet. He’s surely busy writing out a long, rambling speech about Hadrien’s accomplishments, which he’ll give before he cuts the cake—honey and lavender, the same as it’s been the last seven years I’ve attended the royal birthday parties. Jax makes a beeline for the banquet tables, leaving me adrift in a sea of flowing silks and bodies warm and cold.
“Thanks, friend,” I mutter after him.
A servant bearing a large and heavy-looking silver tray passes by, and I swipe a glass of pale liquid and sniff it. Honeysuckle wine, I think, but there’s only one way to be sure.
Two glasses of sweet wine later, I’m no longer bothered that everyone seems to be sneaking curious glances at me instead of talking to me or asking how I’ve been. I’m swaying slightly to the lively tunes of the evening’s main band. I’m singing along, making up my own lyrics. I’m laughing as Jax bumps into Princess Valoria, knocking her glasses into a bowl of cranberry sauce and then frantically trying to clean them on his tunic. The redness of the sauce is nothing compared to the fire in Valoria’s cheeks as she snatches her glasses back and adjusts them, stealing glances at Jax after putting them back on.
I don’t have any time to dwell on what those glances mean, or how I feel about it, because someone shouts my name as I reach for my third or fourth glass of wine from a tray that’s moving alarmingly fast.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Prince Hadrien says as he squeezes between two dancing couples to reach me. “And I’m not the only one.”
The prince’s messy blond hair seems paler than usual, especially where the longest strands brush the shoulders of his midnight-blue tunic. He scans the crowd around us before focusing the full intensity of his gaze on me and spreads his hands in a helpless gesture. “I swear she was just over by the cake, talking to Mother . . .”