Mirage (Mirage #1)(18)

“Several,” Nadine replied.

“I never want to see this one again. I should have your tongue cut out for speaking out of turn. Happily for you, I am in a good mood today, and I don’t wish it spoiled by blood on the floor.”

“Y-your—”

I lifted an eyebrow and she choked on her own words and lowered her head.

For a moment, I understood. Was this what Maram always felt like—secure in her power? Secure in herself? Absolutely in control because she knew even the strongest, oldest tree would bend to her will on a whim?

It was heady and sickening all at once.

“Escort her away,” I said, and the droid beside Nadine lurched forward.

The only sound for some minutes was the sound of the seamstress’s heels skidding against the marble floors as the droid dragged her away.

“Where is the fabric?” I asked, after the doors had closed. My shoulders relaxed in a practiced move, the same sudden change to leisure I’d seen Maram make a hundred times.

A seamstress came forward, holding a roll of fabric, and knelt before me, bearing it up over her head. It was velvet, or something quite like it, rich and soft, rippling with shades of blue and black. I ran a steady hand over it, and for a moment had the cruel impulse to twist my hands in it and tear the whole thing away from the girl.

“I hardly think it’s a flattering shade,” I said at last. “And what would you make out of it?”

Silence.

“Was I not clear in my question?” I said after a heartbeat. “Or am I meant to drape it over myself like some sort of barbarian?”

“W-we hadn’t—”

Maram’s smirk emerged on my features without thought. “You took a portion of my morning to display to me a piece of fabric with no design in mind?”

The silence stretched, until the air in the room was tight as a drum.

“Get out.”

The women scrambled to pack everything up, and did it admirably quickly before they rushed out into the hall. The doors clanged shut behind them. For a moment, their echo was the only sound.

Maram appeared beside me, stepping out from the shadows. She was grinning, a true, radiant smile that transformed her angry features into something beautiful—and happy.

“That was magnificent,” she said, grabbing my arms. “I hardly thought you could do it. Isn’t that right, Nadine?”

“Indeed,” she drawled, amused. “One hardly thinks a village girl has it in her to berate first an old woman, and then all her subordinates.”

Maram continued to beam at me, though she released the grip on my arms. I felt an answering smile rise, tentative and hopeful, and I struggled to contain it—why should I relish her praise?

“I’m quite pleased,” she said.

Her pleasure seemed to make Nadine sharpen. “There are days left before the ball where you will make your debut,” she said to me. “Have you any idea where it is? For whom? For what?”

The voice that came out of me was not mine, but Maram’s. “The festival is held yearly in the northern continent, in the mountainous country of Atalasia. It is a celebration of their first snowfall, and it imitates the Vathek custom of the wintermarch.”

For the first time in our brief acquaintance, Nadine looked impressed.

“Very good,” she said after a beat. “I suppose you’re ready.”





atalasia, andala





10

In the center of the Ziyaana was a giant dome that doubled as a landing area for the palace’s spacecraft. As far as the eye could see, the royal household stood in rank, prepared to leave for Atalasia and the Terminus ball. There were three air transports, luxury cruisers, lined up and gleaming in the early-morning sunlight. Those in the court’s favor would ride in the royal transport. Everyone else would have to find their own way to Atalasia.

A guard stood at one end of the suite designated for me, arms folded across his chest, silent and watchful. Dressed as Maram, I had chosen to ride alone in her quarters rather than risk discovery before the ball even began. I used these precious few hours to review the invitation list for the ball, memorizing names and faces from the holoreader Nadine had provided.

All my hopes at success rested on my debut as Maram. She had stayed behind so that no one could chance on her while I was at the ball. Succeed, she’d commanded me before I left. I didn’t want to entertain what the cost would be if I failed.

The transport traveled quickly, crossing the vast desert more rapidly than I could have imagined. Before I knew it we’d sailed over the sea separating the main continent from the northern climes, and the orange, sunburnt sky turned blue. I sat by a window with a round table in front of me, laden with bowls of fruit and a crystal decanter filled with a drink I didn’t recognize.

The door at the far end of the train car hissed open, and I looked up to find Tala there.

“Are you ready, Your Highness?” she asked, but I heard the question she was really asking—was I ready for my masquerade?

Disembarking was fast and efficient. The Atalasian air had a bite to it that even I, who had grown up at the foot of Cadissian mountains, was not prepared for. I pulled my cloak tighter around my shoulders and looked up at the carved stone wall of the palace. It was a long, flat structure, a single story, with turrets rising out of the outer wall at regular intervals. The very tops of the walls were carved with sharp geometric shapes, and every now and then a large, heavy tapestry dropped over the wall. It was stationed on a hill, and behind it rose up the tallest peaks of the Atalasia mountains, snowcapped and intimidating.