Page 87 of All the Wandering Light

The banquet hall was enormous—it could have spanned the entire length of Azmiri. Its ceiling was held aloft by square pillars painted in intricate patterns of alternating colors, often woven with yellow poppies. It opened onto grand balconies on two sides, admitting the night air and glimpses of the gleaming city below. Fires roared in massive, gilded fireplaces. Hundreds of palace dragons crouched on brackets in the pillars, or fluttered to and from perches that hung from the lofty ceiling. Their lights were not only the expected blue and green—some glowed a deep violet or crimson I had never seen in a dragon before. I wondered if they had been bred that way, or if their color was the result of a spell. If so, it seemed a wasteful sort of magic. The light flickered and changed continually, throwing strange shadows in every direction.

Every noble in the Three Cities, it seemed, had showed up to welcome the emperor home. Some wore long, close-fitting chubas sequined with jewels across the shoulders and back, paired with the same ridiculously thin boots River had worn. The women wore dresses woven from silk so vibrantly colored I was tempted to squint, their ears weighted with enormous jeweled earrings, their shoulders and throats draped with necklaces. Gloves were clearly in fashion—almost everyone wore them, men and women, gloves of a glistening silk dyed in a variety of colors, the most common of which seemed to be a pure white that struck me as a strange choice for a dinner. The common trait of all Three Cities dress, I thought with some disdain, seemed to be its unsuitability for anything beyond lounging about indoors.

At my side, Tem was silent. He gazed around the hall with an expression that was more blank than amazed, as if he was not even certain where to look first.

I took his arm as two women passed, their gazes sliding over him. Tem looked startlingly handsome, the image of a young nobleman at his first royal party. His chuba was the deep blue of twilight, cut in a way that emphasized his height and broad shoulders. His hair, which normally curtained his face, was swept back, highlighting the sharp lines of his brow and jaw. River’s tailors had certainly done their job, I thought, as I noticed my own gaze being drawn to Tem more frequently than usual. I turned back to adjusting my dress. A dragon scurried over my feet, making me start. Clearly, dragons were indulged here in a way they never were in Azmiri.

“You look . . .” Tem blushed.

I rolled my eyes. “I look like I’m wearing a costume.”

“No, it’s— I’ve never seen you like this.”

I made a dismissive gesture. To my annoyance, it had turned out that the supposedly “urgent” business River had needed to attend to that morning had involved hiring the most overpaid tailors to array us in the most overpriced garments. The silk that swathed me was a vivid red with a white band at the top of my waist. The servants had pinned my hair up and woven it with gold chains, though I had refused any other adornment, as well as the silk gloves they had offered me. Whenever I moved, the gold tinkled softly. In spite of the fine clothes, I knew I gave the other guests little reason to turn their heads. While the dress emphasized my curves, it also emphasized my stoutness, and I had seen in the mirror how ruddy my face was from days spent battling the harsh elements.

It didn’t matter. I didn’t care what I looked like. I had allowed the tailors to make me look like a courtier, knowing that I couldn’t very well appear before the emperor in my filthy chuba and worn boots. Where was he? When would he return? River had vanished that afternoon to learn what he could, and to investigate the stories he had heard from the servants. I didn’t like him going off on his own. The more people he talked to, the greater the risk that someone would notice the change and realize what he was.

Lusha had vanished into the crowd almost as soon as we were admitted to the hall. Not out of any eagerness to join the party, I guessed, but as a result of frustration and nervous energy. Lusha didn’t like waiting, though she had tamped down her feelings, allowing the tailors to fit her into a dress of golden yellow, weave her hair with jewels, and thread her ears with long strings of colorful beads. The result was that she could have passed for an empress, even in comparison to other courtiers in equally rich dress. I glimpsed her now, a ray of gold, standing by one of the balconies with her arms folded, pointedly ignoring the young man attempting to speak with her as she scanned the crowd, and giving off the powerful impression that this was her hundredth royal banquet.

The star, absurdly, was nestled in the pocket of Lusha’s dress. When I had suggested leaving it in her room under guard, I had been treated to a look so icy it froze my tongue.

A murmur swept through the crowd, and I felt Tem stiffen beside me. I turned in time to see River parting the courtiers. A small number called out his name, and he stopped to exchange a few words. I saw smiles, welcoming shoulder claps. Occasionally, the sound of laughter drifted toward us. River looked perfectly at ease. There was something almost mesmerizing about it—the heads turning in succession, the swirl of brightly clad movement his arrival caused, like autumn leaves stirred by a wind.

“Beautiful,” he said, once he reached us. For a moment, I wasn’t certain what he meant—but he was staring at me.

I stared right back at him. In contrast to the courtiers, arrayed in colors so bright I suspected one-upmanship on the part of the Three Cities’ dyers, River was all in black from his boots to his chuba, which was thin, close-fitting, and obviously beyond expensive. It would have looked impractical on anyone else, but I knew that River bore the cold as lightly as a fish in an icy stream. Absurdly, in place of jewels, his chuba was studded with what appeared to be obsidian beading. Even the gloves were black, a silk so fine it gleamed like glass. River, with his beautiful face and strange eyes, and the invisible pull of his presence, would stand out in farmers’ clothes. Dressed as he was, it seemed as if every eye in the vicinity was on him. It was the opposite of a disguise.

And yet, I thought, perhaps that had been the point. The clothes were as striking as everything else about him, but they also elided other evidence of difference, offering a harmless reason for an observer’s attention to linger. Perhaps it was a more effective disguise than any attempt at ordinary dress, which would have only created a contrast.

“The emperor will arrive soon,” he said, taking no notice of my silence, or the fact of the crowd’s parting around where we stood. “He’s only just returned to court. In a foul mood, by all accounts.”

“I see.” My stomach, already in knots, did a somersault at this news.

River was staring at me again, after allowing his gaze to drift over the courtiers. I narrowed my eyes. I was growing tired of being regarded like some sort of exotic animal—first by Tem, now him. River seemed to notice my reaction, and smiled apologetically. Music flared somewhere on the balconies—several lutes and hand drums. River seemed about to speak. But then one of the courtiers appeared to work up the courage to cross the moat that had opened between us and them. She placed a hand on his arm, and River, appearing to recognize her, allowed her to lead him away.

“Where are you going?” I said in disbelief. He couldn’t just abandon us here. I would rather be abandoned outside a den of red-toothed bears.

River merely cast a smile over his shoulder and was soon swallowed up by the crowd. To my dismay, the courtiers began dividing into twos, and music swelled through the hall as other instruments joined the first.

Tem, thank the spirits, didn’t take my hand. He was eyeing the swirl of courtiers with something resembling panic.

“I think I’ll visit the libraries,” he said.

“You were there all day!”

“The emperor isn’t here yet,” Tem pointed out. “And when he arrives, I doubt he’ll be interested in speaking to me.”

“I don’t think we should split up.”

Tem gave me a look. “Would you rather I asked you to dance?”

I took a step back, bumping into one of the courtiers in my haste. “Enjoy yourself, Tem.”

“Thank you, I will.” He walked away, a lightness in his step that I hadn’t seen since we left Azmiri.

Keeping an eye on Lusha, who was busy ignoring a different suitor, I wandered to the opposite end of the hall, where there were tables piled with delicacies. Courtiers ate with their hands, for the most part, as they stood and talked, or lounged on plush rugs. Servants brought bowls of scented water for hand washing, which were constantly replenished. I couldn’t help staring. This method of dining was luxury so impractical that I found it difficult to comprehend.

I had only eaten a few bites when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned and found a young man, bony but handsome in his courtier’s clothes.