Page 79 of Sharpest Court

“We’re glad you’re here, Lady Alissa,” Holden said, dropping his voice, “for now we’re able to thank you in person for the gifts you sent.”

My pulse lurched. With Holden and Finbar walking ahead of us, I was able to shoot a questioning look at my companions. Both Valeria and Keil shook their heads slightly, worry flashing in their eyes. They didn’t know what Holden was referring to. What gifts I—or rather, Erik—had allegedly sent to Banarrat.

With new dread snaking through me, I made my voice syrup-smooth. “I’m glad everything was to your liking.” We stopped as our guides turned toward us, the lanterns creating a glow around the group. “Though now, after seeing the exceptional beauty of your island, I fear our gifts might not meet your standards.”

Both Holden and Finbar startled, and I cursed myself, sure I’d said the wrong thing.

Then Holden released a burst of wicked laughter. “We’ve heard rumors of your cruel tongue, my lady. It’s another claim I hadn’t believed until now.”

Though I kept my features composed, I felt increasingly uneasy. What about my statement had sounded cruel?

“But truly”—Holden set a hand on his armored chest—“your king’s gift has demonstrated a deep respect and understanding of our history.” Holden’s eyes slid from Keil to Valeria. “A history that our neighbors seem to have forgotten.”

I drew up taut, my specter now thrumming with alarm. Because I suddenly realized what history Holden was talking about. What he might consider a gift.

I was still caught in violent denial when Holden clapped his hands. “But I’m sure you wish to see how your gift fares within our home.” He drew back a curtain and beckoned into the gloom with two fingers—a master summoning a pet.

My breathing grew shallow as soft footsteps approached. Then a pale, slender hand landed in Holden’s waiting palm, and my stomach dropped.

Because I already knew who that hand belonged to.

“I’m pleased to present the newest member of the Banarrati court,” Holden said, drawing her out into the open. “Lady Perla Byrd.”

21

I felt boneless.

While Keil and Valeria had gone tense beside me, Perla’s appearance wrung me with horror, leaving my specter fluid under the surface.

Her eyes locked on mine and widened. Anger flashed in her expression, so brief that I wondered if I’d imagined it. Then she blinked and her features slackened, the pallor of her cheeks offsetting her long-sleeved flouncy chiffon dress, the color of dying roses.

I didn’t have time to consider the fact that Erik had somehow delivered her here without Rheya finding out—had gifted her to this island, just like the mainland had once gifted their courtiers as tributes.

Right now, I was too busy convincing myself that Erik couldn’t have found out that she’d freed me; it was impossible. So had he chosen her for this journey simply out of sadistic pleasure? Or, more worryingly, had Perla volunteered?

No. Judging from her dull eyes and downturned mouth, Perla didn’t want to be here.

So why was she here?

“Gods, we’ve startled the poor girl.” Holden gave a booming chuckle, and Perla flinched.

My specter surged with new anger, and for the first time in weeks, I had to swallow the power down. I’d seen the real Perla for myself; she was sharp and kind and impossibly courageous.

And this man had made her flinch.

“You must be old friends, no?” Holden looked expectantly between us.

“Yes,” Perla murmured. “We are well acquainted.” She curtsied, and I wanted to squirm in discomfort.

Perla had once given me the rings off her fingers to protect me, a gesture so powerful that I’d felt humbled by it. Now she was lowering herself before me like a subject before her queen, seeming more like the Perla I’d known during Rose Season: as fragile as porcelain, one jolt away from breaking.

Only this time, I couldn’t be sure that her fragility was an act.

I must have been breathing too fast, giving away too much of my pain and confusion, because Keil’s specter suddenly wrapped around the fist I’d made, then bled like water through my fingers, filling my palm until I had to unclench. His touch flared in reassurance before it slipped away, leaving my clammy palm open to the air.

As Perla straightened, I lifted my chin. Though my mind raced with questions, I couldn’t break my cover. If either Holden or Finbar doubted my status as Daradon’s future queen, my next move would push them into certainty one way or the other.

So I said, with all the cool serenity I had once used to address her, “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Lady Perla. You look well.”