Page 77 of Sharpest Court

Valeria and Lye flanked me on our walk toward the cliffs. The white rock face was gutted on one side, I realized, forming an entryway adorned with globed lanterns.

As the retinue ahead disappeared beyond the threshold, I glimpsed one particular cliff that appeared ravaged. Loose stones fused at its base, reminding me of Saxon’s old fortress back on the mainland.

“Ithoric?” I asked quietly.

Valeria nodded in my periphery. “The Orrenish attacked this side of the island a few years ago. Several courtiers were lost in the crossfire.”

I gulped, unaccustomed to waging court warfare alongside true warfare.

“Do we believe them about a security breach?” Dashiel murmured.

“They could be fabricating it,” Valeria replied. “Using it as an excuse to monitor us in the name of safety. Then again, the island’s naval forces have been getting slack.”

“Holden’s making a point,” Goren said, scowling. “Showing Rheya how quickly a breach can occur if they withdraw their forces even an inch.”

“Holden would risk the security of his own island to prove his value?” I asked.

Lye huffed a humorless laugh. “Holden would invite the Orrenish to a steak dinner to prove his value.”

“In a best-case scenario,” Valeria said, “the breach might make it harder to get into Holden’s private offices and find the location of the sword.”

“That’s the best-case scenario?” Lye grumbled. “What’s the worst?”

Valeria and I glanced sideways at each other, her scar shining under the cliff lights.

“Mara,” I answered for us both. “If she learned that I was coming here, and that Rheya would offer me the protection of the Gallery once I returned to the mainland . . .”

“Then she would know that she only has until the end of the fete to strike,” Val finished darkly.

Our dread permeated the air as we joined the others through the cliffside entryway—and my breath caught.

“Welcome, Lady Alissa, to the Crater.” Holden swept one arm up and I followed the movement, looking beyond the lantern canopy to the tall, rocky edges of the grand space. With the seamless blend of natural stone and architecture, it appeared as though the gods themselves had cracked open this section of the cliff like a geode and seated us in its glittering center.

“It’s remarkable,” I said over the bold, drumming music. While balls in Daradon were often over-primped, pompous, and flooded with a sickly perfume smell, the celebrations on Banarrat sparkled with the kind of golden energy found inside a bottle of champagne.

Holden smiled. “I’m glad you think so.”

Our group passed through the dancing crowd unnoticed. It was oddly freeing, striding through a party this large and knowing that nobody cared who I was.

The further into the Crater we traveled, the more I noticed glittering pits dimpling the landscape—many shallow, a few feet wide, others so large they resembled ponds that had been sucked dry. As I stepped around a smaller pit, I realized that jagged rocks filled its insides—some embedded into the earth, some loose—all twinkling in the darkest, most alluring hue of purple black.

Having grown up in Vereen, I could name every gemstone. Yet I was awed now, never having encountered this variety before.

“Mind your step.” Holden tapped a faint scar on his cheek. “I tell people this is from an Orrenish warlord. Really, it’s from falling into one of these pits after too many drinks.”

“What are they composed of?” I asked.

“Nightstone, the less popular cousin of dayglass.”

“Less popular cousin, you say?” Lye grinned. “I’m sure there’s a joke in there about Finbar, if anyone cares to reach for it.”

Before Finbar could do more than glare at Lye, Holden continued, “Nightstone is prone to crumbling, riddled with impurities, and appears bleached under sunlight. Since our mainlander neighbors don’t deign to trade for it”—a pointed glance at the Arcus siblings—“you can only find these pits on Banarrat.”

“Then I consider myself fortunate.” My gaze lingered on a particularly large pit at the edge of a grand golden tent, so cavernous that I imagined I could stand inside it chest-deep. “I like these stones all the more for their unfavorable reputation.”

“You ought to take a sample back with you,” Finbar said. “Though you must’ve already been plied with souvenirs from the mainland.”

“My hosts have been very generous indeed.”