“As great as this is,” Rhys said to me, “do you think we should go inside now? An entire ballroom of people is waiting on you.”
“Yeah, probably,” I said, letting go of Mercedes.
Rhys smiled and shifted his attention to my friend. “Sapling, you are the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.” Rhys bowed low in front of her and held out a hand. “May I escort you inside, please?”
“Oh.” Mercedes looked between Rhys and Darinda. “Is that…”
“Go,” Darinda said, and waved a hand at them. “But if I catch the two of you kissing again, I will thump you both with my stick.”
Once Rhys had taken Mercedes’s hand and led her away, Darinda turned to me and shook her head. “Every time our sapling and the iron lover are together they seem to be attached at the lips.”
“They’re cute.” I smirked. “I’m just glad that she’s found a way to be happy here. With Rhys and the kissing and the whole guarding the Tree of Life thing. I was afraid she was going to hate me, you know.”
“Why would the sapling hate you?” Darinda asked.
I felt my stomach knot. “I destroyed our only way of getting home.”
“You saved Nerissette from an evil wizard and prevented him from killing us all before marching into your world and killing your families.”
“It sounds more heroic than it actually was when you put it that way.”
“It was heroic.”
“No, it wasn’t,” I said. My mind instantly went back to that day in the Fate Maker’s tower when I had been searching for anything I could find to stop him and stay alive.
“We will have to agree to disagree then, Your Majesty,” Darinda said quietly.
“I wanted to ask you something, though,” I said, desperate to change the subject away from the Fate Maker and all the horrible things that had happened at my coronation. “Could you send a few dryads to the village of Sorcastia, near Lake Wevlyn? A farmer there lost his wheat when a dragon fledgling sneezed and set fire to his fields.”
“I’ll arrange something in the morning,” Darinda said with a faint smile. “Is that all?”
“No, just one other thing before we go in. It’s nothing big. I’ve just got something I’m curious about.”
“What is it, Your Majesty?”
“The flowers you planted at the memorial. John of Leavenwald told me and the new ambassador that they were war roses, and the ambassador looked at him all weird. Why?”
“There is a superstition about war roses, Queen Alicia. It is said they only truly bloom when they are planted in soil that’s been drenched in blood.”
“That’s—” I swallowed.
“Nothing more than a story,” Darinda said. “In the end, they are nothing more than a red rose that takes longer to wilt than most other breeds. No blood required.”
“Oh. Okay, good. So we aren’t going to have to go kill someone to make them bloom each year. That’s good.”
“They’ll be fine without.” Darinda smiled at me. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go in, and then you can make your grand entrance. I’m sure the nobles are anxiously awaiting your arrival.”
“Yeah, mainly so they can all come up with an excuse to nag me for something, most likely each other’s land.”
“Then I recommend you keep your crown prince dancing as much as you can, so you won’t have to talk with any land-grabbing nobles.”
Before I could answer she slipped into the shadows and walked away. Knowing Darinda, she’d go in through a side door and skirt through the crowd until she found the rest of the members of the Nymphiad—the nymph ruling council—and they’d spend the night ignoring the rest of us as they talked about nature. Not that I blamed her. If I had my choice I wouldn’t hang out with most of these people, either.
I took a deep breath and ran my hands over my skirt one more time to make sure it wasn’t wrinkled. “Here goes nothing.”
“You’re a vision,” Timbago said from his position by the ballroom’s main doors. “Are you ready, Your Majesty?”
“Nope.”
“As I told you before your first ball here in Nerissette: back straight, chin up, smile. You are the queen here and anyone who acts like you are not will have their food poisoned by me. That includes Her Majesty, the Empress Bavasama’s ambassador.”
“Right. I’ll be happy if I manage to not to step on someone’s foot and start a war.” I quirked my brow at him. “What do you say?”
“You’ll be grand.” Timbago waved both of his hands in front of the doors, and they began to move with a loud, rumbling groan.
“Do you really believe that?” I asked. “About me being beautiful and grand and all of that?”
“With all my heart,” Timbago said. “Now, come on, it’s time to go dazzle some nobles.”
The music inside the throne room died out and everyone fell silent as the doors parted. I found myself once again standing at the threshold, staring at a room packed to the brim with people in fancy clothes.
“Her grace and glory, queen of all the light touches, the Golden Rose of Nerissette, Queen Alicia the First,” Timbago said loudly, his voice echoing around the room. “Long may she reign.”
I held back a sigh as everyone bowed. I’d tried to pass a law against bowing, I really had, but it hadn’t taken, and now every time I entered a room all I got was a view of the top of everyone else’s head. Which was incredibly boring to say the least. Instead of fighting it, though, I lifted the front of my skirts enough that I could walk and started toward my throne. When I reached the dais, Winston stood and offered me his hand.
“You look amazing in that dress,” he said, looking me over as I stepped onto the platform.
“Really?” I asked. “Because I can’t breathe in it. There’s a poky bit stabbing me in the side.”
“The injustice of being a queen,” he said with a smile.
“Tell me about it,” I said before turning around to face the room full of still-bowing people.
There was a loud crash outside the room and everyone jerked upright, turning toward the door, every soldier reaching for his sword. The doors at the far end of the throne room were pushed open and a young soldier, the gold buttons on his bright-red coat gleaming in the candlelight, raced into the room, his sword drawn.
“Madrave,” Rhys yelled, standing up and drawing his own sword. “What are you doing here? How dare you draw your sword in the presence of the Golden Rose?”
“The Fate Maker.” The soldier dropped his sword arm to his side and turned to me, not even bothering to bow.
My heart sank into my stomach. If something had spooked one of Rhys’s royal guards so bad that he forgot all those stupid court manners everyone insisted on, then it couldn’t be good.
“What?” I asked, standing up to face him. “What is it? What’s happened?”
“He’s back,” Madrave said, his eyes wide. “The Fate Maker has returned to Nerissette.”
Chapter Six
A woman somewhere in the ballroom let out a loud wail, and then there was a crash that sounded like someone’s glass of punch hitting the floor. A second later the place exploded into chaos. Some of the nobles turned and began clawing their way toward the doors but were blocked by the line of armed soldiers, their hands on their swords. The woodsmen fanned out to the sides of the room.
“Everyone!” I stood and tried to get the crowd’s attention before someone got crushed in the panicked mob. “Everyone calm down.”
No one answered. No one even stopped. They kept pressing toward the door, shoving at one another to get out.
There was a sharp, piercing whistle, like the ones on television shows when people tried to hail a cab, and everyone froze. “Knock it off,” Eamon yelled.