Page 5 of Beneath the Haunting Sea
Ayah punched her in the arm again. “No disrespecting my homeland!”
They both dissolved into laughter.
There came a knock on Talia’s door and she went to answer it. An armyof attendants flooded in, propelling her to her dressing table and wrapping a sheet around her neck so her dress wouldn’t get dirty as they applied her cosmetics.
Talia tried to sit as still as possible while the attendants went to work. Ayah hovered nearby, chattering about the latest mythological text she’d been copying in the library all week, but Talia couldn’t pay attention. The words ofher speech tumbled about with the memory of her father’s laughter, the image of the Emperor in the courtyard, spittle running down his beard.
The attendants twisted her hair into elaborate braids and pinned them on top of her head, crowning her with fresh lilies that filled the whole room with their sweet scent. Over the balcony, the sun began to sink below the city and Talia’s anxiety sharpened.It was nearly time. Soon Ayah and everyone else wouldknow.Would Ayah treat her differently?
The attendants brushed gold powder across her eyelids and painted her lashes with kohl. They stained her lips a deep blood red. They rubbed her arms and neck and shoulders with citrus-scented oil. They hung sapphires in her ears and slipped calfskin sandals onto her feet. Then they drew the sheet away.
Talia stood from her dressing table and Ayah appraised her with wide eyes. “Caida’s teeth,” she whispered. “Beautiful.”
They went into the corridor together, where Talia’s mother was waiting. She wore a red gown that cascaded like water to the floor, with a shimmering, gold sash. Her black hair was bound up with diamonds, her brown skin glimmering with that same citrus-scented oil. “Are you ready?”A question deeper than the one she’d asked hung in her dark eyes.
Talia sucked in a deep breath. “I’m ready,” she lied.
When she stepped into the ballroom, bells resounded in the city below to call up the moon—Talia could just glimpse its silver edge through the gauzy curtains adorning the open balcony. Thousands of candles in iron stands and glittering chandeliers cast flickering shadows overthe white-and-gold inlaid marble floor. People were already dancing, to the music of harps, flutes, tuned cymbals, and the resounding pulse of a booming drum that echoed in the huge domed chamber.
The attendant in the doorway announced Talia and her mother as they stepped through: “The esteemed Countess Aria Dahl-Saida, Governor of Irsa, and her daughter, Talia Dahl-Saida.”
Talia tried not tothink of the “Imperial Highness” that would be added to her name after tonight. She shuddered.
Ayah didn’t get an introduction. She slipped in behind them and gave Talia a wave as she pushed her way through the dancers to the refreshment table at the back of the room. As much as she’d teased Talia about it, Ayah didn’t care to be the center of attention either. Her bright hair and pale skin alreadymade her stand out.
Talia glanced at the raised dais a few feet from the refreshment table where two carved-ivory thrones stood empty. “I thought the Emperor would be here already,” she whispered to her mother.
Her mother frowned. “So did I, but I’m sure he’ll be here soon.” She grasped Talia’s shoulders. “I’m so proud of you. I hope you know that. Your father would be, too.”
She knew her motherdidn’t mean the Emperor, and her eyes started to tear.
Her mother smiled. “Don’t cry, my dear girl.”
For the first time in years, Talia pressed her face into her mother’s shoulder and hugged her tight. She wasn’t alone in this. Her mother would be beside her, guiding her, helping her. And once Ayah got over her anger at Talia for keeping such a huge thing from her, Talia knew she could counton her friend’s help too.
Her mother kissed her cheek. “Happy birthday, Talia.”
They drew apart, and Talia turned to see a young man sweeping an elegant bow in her direction. He was startlingly handsome, with midnight-black hair and skin a few shades darker than hers. Diamonds gleamed in his ears, matching the crystals sewn into his cobalt and black silk jacket. “Lord Rone Hohd-Lorne at yourservice, my lady. Would you care for a dance?”
Talia had never met Rone before, but she already disliked him. He was the son of the Baron of Tyst and she’d seen him beat a hound once. But it was her duty to dance with anyone who asked at her coming-of-age ball, so she put her hand in his and allowed him to lead her onto the floor.
They danced, Rone’s hand pressed against the small of her back,his warm breath too close to her cheek and smelling of spiced wine. She had the sudden, horrifying realization that because she was now the Emperor’s heir, she might be made to marry someone like Rone. Marrying for love was not a luxury an Empress could afford. The Emperor’s marriage had been political—hers would be, too.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Lady Dahl-Saida?”
Rone’s words startled herout of her thoughts and she lost track of the dance, tripping over her own feet and causing her partner to stumble as well.
Irritation flashed across his handsome face. “I had expected the future Countess of Irsa to be a more accomplished dancer—you’ll have to work on that if you want to catch a husband.” He had the gall to wink at her.
She wanted to smack him—she didn’t have the mental fortitudeto deal with this right now. “And here I expected a man who beats his own dogs to have beautiful manners. Excuse me.”
Talia left him standing stupidly in the middle of the dancers and stalked over to the refreshment table, ears burning. Ayah wasn’t there anymore. Talia glimpsed her out on the dance floor, whirling about in the arms of a gawky Marquis.
Talia resisted the urge to slip out to thebalcony and scramble onto the roof. Ayah would follow her eventually, with a stolen jar of wine and a skirt full of cakes. They’d drink until they got dizzy and lick cake-sugar off their fingers and not come down until the party was over.
But she couldn’t do that anymore. Future empresses didn’t do that.
“Dance, my lady?”
