Bring Me Their Hearts(34)
To contrast all the opulence, a woman with a strict bun and sharp gaze stands before a regal statue of some very important dead man. Her dress is a sensible black, but she wears a gold-threaded mantle over her shoulders, hanging long past her waist. All court servants wear a mantle, and all of them are different colors to indicate their rank and job. A gold mantle marks her as Headkeeper—the overseer of every servant in the palace. If there’s anyone who knows the court’s dirty little secrets, it’s her. At her sides are other keepers in similar clothes, though their mantles are much less gaudy.
“Welcome, Bride,” she says, and bows. I almost bow in return but catch myself. “I am Ulla, Palace Headkeeper. We will wait for your fellows to reach us before entering the Hall of Time. Please make yourself comfortable.”
“Thank you. I’ll try my best. Comfort is a far dream in these shoes.” I sigh.
Ulla immediately claps her hands and barks, “Fetch the Bride a chair, quickly.”
Two men branch off, returning with a heavy ironwood chair. My eyebrows skyrocket at how fast they put it down just behind me.
“I didn’t mean— You didn’t have to—”
Ulla raises her own brow. Having the Headkeeper suspicious of me would be very bad. I put on a haughty face and sit, fighting my urge to thank the men as they retreat to Ulla’s side. The Steelrun girl is already here in a similar chair, her eyes avoiding mine. We wait. And by that I mean I stare at everything in the hall like a drooling newborn fascinated by the slightest glimmer, and the very obviously bored Steelrun girl taps her foot on the floor, impatient to meet her royal husband. I don’t have the heart—literally—to break the bad news to her, so I just smile when our eyes meet instead.
Ulla welcomes a well-dressed boy in a sea-green tunic, his shy smile ruddy. Two slender boys enter after him, twins by the look of their identical blond coifs and sallow skin and blue eyes. The boys are here as Spring Grooms—a much more celebrated title when a Princess is in line for the throne, but today they’ll simply be introduced to the court so they can begin their social life. Finally, a girl in a luxurious deer-hide dress joins us, panting and looking around happily, as if she’s thrilled to be here. All of the noble children have fine features and soft-looking, well-fed skin. They’ve never seen a day of work, let alone a day of hunger, and half of me pities them. How helpless would they be outside this mechanical city of extravagance?
How helpless would they be beneath your fangs? The hunger slithers around in my skull.
“Now that we’ve all assembled,” Ulla begins, “I will walk the Spring Grooms to the hall to be introduced first. Brides, please wait here until I fetch you. I’d ask you all to be on your best behavior, as this is your first introduction to the people you will call peers for the rest of your lives.”
“We know, old woman,” one of the twins drawls. “Our parents gave us this same talk, and much quicker than you.”
I can’t stand his tone, or the way Ulla simply takes his insult without so much as blinking.
“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the baby’s crib,” I drawl. The boy’s brother shoots me a venomous glare.
“I wasn’t aware gloomy little paupers like the Y’shennrias were allowed to speak,” he snarls.
“Shouldn’t you be at home, praying to your heretic god?” The first twin sneers at me.
“It looks like you two need to do a little praying of your own.” I smile. “First order of business: ask Kavar for some better insults.”
The smiley, deer-dress girl chokes on her laughter. The twins throw her a nasty glance and turn on me.
“You’ll watch yourself,” one of them says. “The Priseless have long memories.”
I look to Ulla, but she doesn’t move to interfere or stop us. Maybe she isn’t allowed to.
“Longer than your temper, I’d hope,” I say.
The other twin narrows his eyes. “You—”
“What’s all this ruckus?” a new voice booms down the hall. All of us turn to it, and everyone bows. Not wanting to look disrespectful to whomever this is, I quickly bow with them.
“Milord,” Ulla starts. “I was just about to take the Spring Grooms into the hall for introduction.”
“And they can’t manage to control themselves for even that long?” The man who steps forward is tall, nowhere near a witch’s height, but the way he carries himself makes it seem that way. He’s clean-shaven, a long mane of silver hair trailing down his back. I recognize that hair, and my stomach goes cold. It’s Archduke Gavik Himintell, the man who led the purge the other day. His eyes are blue and watery, yet his smile is harder than ice. Everything about him screams precision and calculation. He wears a white tunic with long sleeves, a mantle on his shoulders much like Ulla’s—though his is gray and encrusted with quartz flakes: a Minister’s mantle. On his hip is the same sword he pointed at the crowd.
“Sir,” the Priseless twins bark a greeting. The archduke smiles at them.
“We’ve always spoken of manners, haven’t we boys? Show a pleasant face, even to your worst enemy. Decorum is—”
“The demolisher of opposition!” the twins echo, their expressions enraptured. They clearly admire the archduke, to the point that all their anger at me is left by the wayside. The archduke chuckles, and then fixes his blue gaze on me.