Page 63 of This Dark Descent
“Good.” He slid his sleeve down over his injured arm. “I’ll coordinate the remainder of the details, but you can expect Prince Darius’s stable master the day after the next ball.”
The brush dropped from her hand, and for a wild moment, she considered flinging her arms around Damien. He must have seen it in her face, because he recoiled, staring at her like she might burn him. She laughed.
Royalty wanted one of her horses.
All this time, fear of the Kelbras had kept buyers at bay. Nightflyer was one of the most recognized names in racing, and Starling and Iri were both descended from him. But while she’d refused to sell Iri, she’d been unable to sell Starling. Now Damien had found one of the few people in this kingdom who had more power than Rezek, someone he wouldn’t dare challenge. If the prince bought a Rusel enchant, others would follow suit. This could change everything.
She grinned. “Thank you.”
Something like a smile turned Damien’s lips. “Let’s take Atara home.”
THE MUSIC OFthe Illinir festival echoed from streets away, the sky bright with enchanted lights and resounding with laughter.
Mikira walked alone toward the glow, her hands shoved into the pockets of her coat. She ought to be home with her sisters, not chasing some woman she didn’t understand into a festival she despised. The laughter, the lights, even the smells—they all reminded her of Lochlyn and Talyana, of the nights they’d spent here together as children during the last Illinir.
She turned the card over in her pocket, running her finger along the embossed address of the Petal Shop on the surface. There was something about Quinn she couldn’t get out of her head. She barely knew the girl, and yet she felt an ease and comfort around her she couldn’t explain. More than that, Quinn had opened a door with her questions about Rezek and the royals, a door Mikira couldn’t bring herself to shut.
Do you want him dead?
Quinn had said it like she could make it happen. Had talked about the noble houses and royal family as if they were simply obstacles to be removed. And in that moment, more than her personal desire to see them defeated had taken root. All this time, she’d been thinking only of herself, of her family. But they weren’t the only ones who’d lost people to the war, to the noble houses’ cruelty and the royals’ greed.
She wanted to hear what Quinn had to say.
Ducking through a narrow alley lined with recruitment posters, she emerged onto Tea Street, the entirety of which had been swallowed by the festival. Some of it was commissioned and paid for by the Kelbras, but much of it was donated by enchanters looking to get their name out, and they held nothing back.
Tree branches hung heavy with enchanted lights, some small and star bright, others large and round as pumpkins with charmed images sliding across their faces: glowing fish in a rippling pond, rain falling over an empty bench bathed in moonlight, Aslir roaring soundlessly against a backdrop of night. She skirted around a vendor selling color-changing masks emulating the Harbingers. Two children each wearing Lyzairin’s sapphire tail burst past her, sparklers held aloft, leaving a trail of fleeting light.
The scent of roasting chestnuts curled around her from a nearby cart. Her father had bought some for her and Lochlyn last time, and she’d loved them so much, Lochlyn had given her his entire bag. They were enchanted to change flavor, turning from cinnamon to nutmeg to brown sugar in a bite. She slowed, watching the vendor scoop nuts into thin paper bags for two men holding hands, and wished, more than anything, that her brother was there with her now.
Lochlyn had always had such an unyielding sense of what was right. He was the peacemaker in their family, sorting out arguments between his little sisters with promises of trail rides and sweets. Sometimes she wondered if it was that softness that had cost him his life in the war. He’d never been able to make the difficult decisions.
Those had always fallen to her.
Except maybe now she didn’t have to do it alone. She thought of Ari sitting next to her in the stables after the first race, of her belief that they could do this together, and a little of the tightness in her chest unwound.
“Excuse me?” A young girl stood before her, a paper and pen clasped in her sugar-dusted hand. She wore a silver fang like Ari’s. “Are you—are you Mikira Rusel? Can I have your autograph?”
Mikira blinked at her in stunned silence. The girl shifted nervously, letting her pale hair fall over her face to hide her rising blush, and Mikira realized she was embarrassing her.
“Oh, um, yes?” She took the proffered pen and paper. Did she just sign her name, like she would any document? That seemed too ordinary. Her father’s signature had been a flash of aKand anR, more art than name. She tried for the same, looping theMinto theKwith a flourish and handing it back.
The girl’s eyes lit up. “Thank you!” She darted back to where her parents were waiting at the corner.
“I thought I recognized you!” The vendor was grinning at her now. “Congrats on the race, Miss Rusel. How about a bag, on the house?”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly—” But he was already filling it up, and she accepted it with a nod of thanks, scurrying onward before anyone else could take notice of her. It hadn’t occurred to her that people might recognize her now. After two Illinir races and with her father’s name behind her, suddenly she was someone to know, a change she suspected was also due to Damien’s introductions of her at the ball.
Thanks to him, the Rusel name meant something again.
And she’d betrayed him.
Guilt turned her stomach, and she ended up giving the nuts to a woman wrapped in blankets on the street. She wasn’t the only refugee bundled up for warmth and with nowhere to go, and it wouldn’t be long before the Anthir forced them out of the festival. The Council of Lords didn’t like reminders of the cost of their war.
Mikira gave her directions to the nearest shelter along with the few copper marks in her pocket before heading toward the corner housing the Petal Shop.
Quinn waited outside.
Her dark hair was half up, half down, the top coiled into an intricate series of braids. She wore knee-high boots over dark pants and a loose pine-green shirt that turned her hazel eyes the dark, vivid color of the forest. She held one hand behind her back, the stem of a flower poking out.
