Page 32 of A Kiss of Flame
Wren wished she could. With a sword too. That would be a look. Aware of how Lynette would react if she suggested it, Wren wisely stayed silent.
Lynette continued fussing over her hair. ‘Guests are arriving in from the outer provinces already, and delegations from the neighbouring kingdoms will be at it too. You need to make a good impression. Dazzle them. You must be the princess you were born to be, everything they expect. And you will be. Look.’ Lynette turned her towards the mirror. ‘You’re beautiful.’
‘I look ridiculous,’ Wren countered, scowling at her reflection. She didn’t look like herself. She looked like something out of a story book or one of those interminable ballads the minstrels loved to sing.
‘Saying things like that about yourself is ridiculous. But Wren, my dear, you are not. You’re a princess of Asteroth. The heir to the throne. No one in their right mind is going to call you ridiculous. They’ll be too busy picking their jaws up off the floor.’
‘Do I have to go?’
Lynette’s temper snapped. ‘Please stop acting like a child. You’re a grown woman. This is no laughing matter. Everything depends on how you deport yourself at this ball. Everything. Carlotta? Where is the girl? I swear, she’s always off somewhere or the other.’
Wren watched her lady-in-waiting smooth the lines of her furrowed brow. Lynette didn’t talk to her like that. Ever.
Carefully, Wren gentled her voice.
‘Lynette, why is this ball so important? There have been other balls. What’s so special about this one?’
For a moment Lynette said nothing. Perhaps she didn’t intend to answer at all, but then she relented. ‘The ball is to welcome those coming to witness the trial. It’s traditional.’
Elodie’s trial. It was happening then. Wren felt a wave of nausea wash through her and all the fight in her fled.
‘We’re celebrating the trial? With a ball?’
‘Not celebrating the trial. The ball is a mark of respect for those who have travelled here. Even the Ilanthian ambassador is expected?—’
‘The Ilanthians are coming too?’ Wren couldn’t believe that. The very idea was abhorrent, but Lynette shrugged her shoulders in a brief and elegant gesture.
So that was why they were really here, Wren thought. Not to reopen the embassy, but to witness Elodie’s trial. To see her suffer.
Wren clenched her fists in the fine fabric of her dress, twisting it around her fingers.
‘They are our neighbours, after all. And this is an overture of peace. If there’s any chance…’ Lynette sighed, and tried to detach the material from her death grip before she damaged it. ‘We have to try, Wren.’
Try? How was that possible?
But, if the Ilanthians were coming, did that mean Finn would be with them? She would get to see him, if only for an evening. That would be a small comfort.
Carlotta appeared moments later with a length of gold braid which Lynette proceeded to arrange in Wren’s hair.
‘Not a crown,’ Wren said rapidly. ‘Please, Lynette.’ She couldn’t keep the fear out of her voice. She couldn’t wear a crown, or anything that looked like one, to a ball celebrating Elodie’s upcoming trial. The whole concept sickened her.
Lynette paused in her labours and gazed at her steadily for a long moment, as if she could see into Wren’s mind. ‘It isn’t a crown, my dear. I promise. Just a headdress, a frivolity to match the gown.’ But all the same she withdrew it and handed it back to the maid. ‘But you will have to get used to the idea eventually. One way or the other.’
‘Not… not yet.’
Never. That was what she wanted to say. But she couldn’t.
Lynette would start asking questions as to why she would even think such a thing…
If Wren was crowned before the Aurum the flames would turn black and she might let the Nox in to kill them all, that was what she was afraid of. Or whatever the stupid prophecy meant. Elodie would stand alone against her enemies and fall. How could she admit that to anyone? Who would believe her? At best, they would think her mad. Or foolishly superstitious. But if they did find out what she was, what she could do, the darkness lurking inside her, then Elodie wouldn’t be the only one facing the flames.
And oh how the Ilanthians would love that. Their crown prince most of all. She could just picture Leander’s triumphant smirk, and it sent a lance of ice down her spine.
‘I can’t, Lynette. I just can’t.’ It came out too loud, too sharp, and Wren tore herself free. A terrible silence sank around them and she was sure she heard laughter. The shadows moved and Wren closed her eyes tightly, willing them to go away as hard as she possibly could.
A soft voice broke the silence. ‘Perhaps some flowers, your highness? If my lady will forgive me. Above the princess’s ear? It’s all the style in the lower city at the moment. Less formal and it would be much more becoming.’
They both turned to look at Carlotta who instantly bobbed a curtsy. Wren could have kissed her and when Carlotta straightened she gave Wren a shy but complicit smile.