Rise of Fire (Reign of Shadows #2)(28)

I should have convinced him he was mistaken and there was no connection between the late queen and me. It didn’t matter how convinced he was; I should have tried to deny the truth.

“Luna?” It was Chasan’s voice, hard and questioning, full of menace.

I gave myself a swift mental shake. It would have only been a delay to the inevitable. The moment I arrived in Ainswind, it was simply a matter of time before I was exposed.

There was no going back now.





ELEVEN


Luna


I WAS LED to the dais at the far end of the room and seated to the right of the king as his honored guest—a fact that he declared loudly and effusively to all in the great hall. The initial excitement faded away, but I was far from forgotten. The prince was at my other side and Maris was close, to her father’s left. I sat stiffly, hands clutched in my lap in an attempt to still their shaking.

Fortunately, I was given something to do when the food arrived. I ate with gusto, falling on the food like I had never eaten before. Apparently the biscuits had not been enough to tide me over. I stopped short of moaning, overcome at the taste and sheer abundance of it all.

It also didn’t hurt that eating saved me from conversation. Chatter flowed around me, and I did my best to answer the king between bites of food and sips of a drink that made my head feel warm and fuzzy. As with the food I tasted, the drink was like nothing I had ever experienced, and I imbibed freely, licking the exotic juice from my lips, not wanting one drop lost.

At one point a warm hand covered my own as I reached for my goblet again. “Have a care, princess. Those bigger and stronger than you have lost their heads over too much of this stuff.”

I did not miss the emphasis the prince placed on the word princess. As though it were something loathsome and dirty on his tongue. Why should he resent the truth of my identity? It was almost as though he preferred me before, when I was just a peasant to him.

And that’s when I sensed it. I felt their stares. Not all of them were delighted with my rise from the dead. Their resentment and dislike were palpable.

I tugged free, eager to be rid of the sensation of the prince’s hand smothering mine. Lifting my goblet back to my lips, I took a greedy gulp and sighed, making the sound deliberately loud. “You don’t know me, Your Highness.” Nor do you have any inkling of the strength that lies in me . . . what I’m capable of . . .

“No, princess. I don’t.”

“Indeed,” an older voice that reminded me of crackling leaves inserted. The sound of it made me stop chewing and pay closer attention to the man seated on the other side of Chasan. “He does not. Nor do any of us know you. Sire,” he called out, the chair creaking as he leaned forward, “how can you be certain this girl is the heir to Relhok? For all we know, a fraud sits at your table.”

I forgot my unease with Chasan and all those other hard-eyed gazes, asking the prince, “Who is that?”

“Bishop Frand,” the prince answered, sounding smug.

“Even if the girl had not admitted it, I would know,” King Tebald insisted in lofty tones as he stuffed something into his mouth. He chewed for a moment, lips smacking before adding, “I spent many hours in the company of Lady Avelot. Her portrait hangs in my gallery. Take a look for yourself.”

My head snapped in the king’s direction. “You have a portrait of my mother?”

“Yes; I shall be happy to show it to you, my dear. Would you like that?”

I nodded dumbly, because what else could I say? Of course a daughter would want to see a portrait of the mother she never knew. If only I could see. But I couldn’t. I would never see my mother. Never hear her voice. Never know her. But this man did, and it struck me as wholly unfair. It made me stuff food into my mouth faster, as though that would somehow fill the hollowness inside of me.

“Yes, perhaps we should all inspect this portrait and make a comparison,” the bishop agreed, his voice snide in a way that made my shoulders tighten.

“Bishop Frand, I can’t imagine why you need to weigh in on the matter at all.” The king’s voice lashed like a whip, a firm reminder that he alone was king here and the one to decide anything, most notably whether I was the heir to Relhok. Admittedly, it comforted me. For now, he was on my side. If we were at odds, it would be a different matter, but I didn’t need to think about that right now. Not yet. Hopefully, I would be gone from here before I ever had to worry about that.

“I am certain you may wish to reflect on this more, Your Majesty. You’re never one for hasty decisions.” The bishop adopted a conciliatory tone, but his voice was no less grating. “The king of Relhok will not recognize this girl’s claim to the throne. It throws his and his son’s claim into jeopardy. And where will that leave your daughter, who is betrothed to King Cullan’s son?”

With those words I knew the peril in which I’d just landed. Anyone here who did not want Cullan’s claim to the throne contested would not tolerate me. Suddenly, standing Outside surrounded by dwellers felt safer than this.

“Should we really discuss such affairs right now?” the prince asked, his smooth voice sounding bored . . . and yet a tension emanated from him that belied the tone of his voice.

The king slammed his goblet down on the table with a heavy clang. “I care not what might offend Cullan. He’s kept his son from me for two years, stringing me along, never revealing that he in fact was gone. Prince Fowler and Maris should have already wed. I am quite finished playing puppet to Cullan’s whims.”