Two of the figures were women, arresting in their obvious power. Ru knew the first woman well. Regent Sigrun was commanding in presence with graying black hair and dark eyes, dressed in the regalia of a military officer rather than a queen, and her epaulets shone in the candlelight. The other woman wasa stranger to Ru. She possessed a sweet, youthful beauty, with a heart-shaped face and honey-brown hair.
But it wasn’t these women who made Ru’s heart stop, the blood in her veins slowing to a deathly crawl. It was the man dressed all in black, with hair to match. A deep frown creased his pale and stubbled face.
His eyes caught hers, just for a breath of a moment, and the artifact burst into life within Ru.
Lord D’Luc leaned close,his cheek only inches from Ru’s, a smile in his voice. As if this were an intimate whisper between friends. “You should have told me that your tattered wanderer was Taryel Aharis. Imagine my shock when I learned. He’s been instrumental in cultivating a sense of collective excitement about the artifact. It is rightfully his, after all.”
Air ceased to flow through Ru’s lungs. A weight pressed down on her chest until she couldn’t think or move.
The seated courtiers, meanwhile, were behaving as if gripped by a ridiculous madness. Some of them almost wailing with jubilant glee, while others blew kisses toward Taryel and clutched their bosoms, delicate tears streaming down their faces. One man even fell from his chair, as if the arrival of Taryel Aharis had physically knocked him off balance.
Ru stared, almost wanting to laugh at the courtiers’ behavior. Only her dread kept the mirth at bay.
Taryel moved through the room with the practiced ease of a gentleman, but his dour expression never changed. Ru watched in petrified silence as the brown-haired woman who had entered with him floated delicately to sit by the head of the table, seating herself across from Lord D’Luc. Ru wished she could crawl under the table and hide when Taryel Aharis, elegant and calm, sat across from her.
She looked away in anguish, as if ignoring him might make him disappear, might prove this night to be no more than a nightmare she’d soon wake from. She watched numbly as Lord D’Luc greeted the brown-haired woman with a kiss on the back of her hand. The woman smiled, her eyes shining in the candlelight.
In a devastated panic, Ru reached for her glass and downed its entire contents in one gulp, choking slightly.
As she set the empty glass down, fingers shaking, she risked a glance at Taryel. His gaze snapped immediately to hers, and there was such heat in it that her stomach twisted, her body responding in a way that was entirely improper at the dinner table. And the artifact, traitorous thing, only stoked the flame.
No, no, no,she thought, tearing her gaze away from his.This can’t be happening. He would have told me he was here. He had every chance to tell me.
Confusion and betrayal came easily to Ru now, and she leaned into the feelings with abandon. She could almost still feel his body against hers, his lips on her neck.I’m begging you, he’d said. Yet here he was, at the very place he had been desperate to save her from. Was everything a game to him?Whyhadn’t he…
The soft pinging of silver on crystal drew Ru’s anguished attention to the head of the table, where the regent stood holding her drink aloft. “Thank you for joining me tonight,” she said, in resonant but distinctly emotionless tones. “I’m pleased to welcome Ruellian Delara, Archaeologist…”
At this, a small clamor arose, excited whispers amongst the seated guests.
“And Keeper of His Heart,” the regent continued, deadpan.
The seated courtiers reacted with continued enthusiasm, some applauding loudly while others darted wine-addled and eager glances Ru’s way. One woman tossed a dried flowertoward Ru, who had to lean sideways to avoid it landing in her hair.
When the sound had died down, the regent continued, “We are pleased to host you once again, Miss Delara. I look forward to watching your progress with the artifact. Enjoy your dinner.”
“To Ruellian!” cried one of the courtiers, and the chant was picked up across the room as a table full of aristocrats lifted their glasses in unison, drinking a toast to Ru.
Ru, meanwhile, wished fervently that she could fade into a mist and blow away. The regent was changed. She was one of the Children, in every way but the white robe. Her eyes as she spoke were glazed, her words without inflection. Ru had already guessed as much, but to see it in practice…
In every way that mattered, Regent Sigrun belonged to Lord D’Luc.
And then, the regent’s gaze drifted, almost aimlessly, toward the woman with honey-brown hair. As Ru watched, the woman gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. The regent returned the nod with a blank-eyed stare.
Cold realization rose in Ru’s chest. She had thought Lord D’Luc was the only one holding the regent’s strings. But this woman…
“Delara,” Lord D’Luc said. His voice snapped Ru out of her trance. She turned to the lord, heart hammering. He frowned disapprovingly at her breathlessness, gesturing toward the woman across from him. “May I present Lady Bellenet.”
Ru stared blankly for half a second before collecting herself enough to reply. “Good evening, Your Grace,” she said, an obvious wobble to her voice. “I’m… honored.”
Lady Bellenet smiled. “The honor is mine.” Her voice was deep, sensual yet commanding. “I gather some things may have changed since you were last at court. I hope you find comfort here, nonetheless. There are so many fascinating things to do.”
Ru inclined her head slightly in response. It was the most she could do, as her voice seemed caught in her tightening throat. Her gown was in danger of being ruined from the press of her sweaty palms. And Taryel’s presence across the table from her, ever in her peripheral vision, was making her breaths too shallow, her skin too hot.
Lady Bellenet, either ignorant to Ru’s suffering or choosing to ignore it, turned to Taryel. He raised one eyebrow slightly, returning the woman’s gaze. “Taryel Aharis,” said the lady, “I believe you already know Miss Delara, our honored guest tonight.”
Taryel Aharis,Ru thought distantly, grasping at threads of reality. Then Lord D’Luc had spoken truthfully — he, and presumably everyone at court if the name was to be spoken so carelessly by ladies at dinners, knew that Taryel was alive, real. That the artifact was his blackened, fossilized heart. But did they truly believe it, or were they just playing along with what they thought to be a silly game?
Taryel turned to Ru. She longed for him, just as much as she longed to shove him headfirst into the hearth. She had thought she’d never see him again. That he was gone. To watch him abandon her, andnow…
