Page 88 of While the Dark Remains
Kallias draws out a chair for me and lays a white fur over my knees. He takes the seat across from me, eyes glittering in the light of the fire pillar, and I remember how very, very afraid I am of him.
An attendant with a pitcher steps out to fill our wineglasses, and it takes me a moment to register the silk patch tied over his right eye. My heart tries to claw its way out of my rib cage. I have to force myself not to stare.
“Don’t mind him, my dear,” says Kallias in a lazy drawl. “I have to keep an eye on him, or he gets himself into mischief. Just one eye, of course.” He laughs at his joke, but Ballast doesn’t react, just withdraws to the balcony doors, awaiting our pleasure like any ordinary servant.
“Please,” says Kallias. “Eat.”
I turn my attention to my plate, which is piled with eleven different kinds of cake, candied nuts, sugared peaches, and more sweet things than I have ever seen presented all at once. I’ve had my fill after only a few bites, but I keep nibbling. Anything is preferable to looking Kallias in the eye. I sip my wine, too, furious. He has offered me only dessert, and so there are no knives on the table.
Kallias snaps his fingers, and Ballast comes back, stiff and wary in the light of the magical fire.
“I thought I would treat you to a little private performance before we get down to business,” says Kallias, smug. “Did you know my son has some delightful Iljaria tricks?”
My gut wrenches, and I regret every bite I took of Kallias’s damn desserts. It is a horror to me that Ballast has sacrificed everything to be named his father’s heir, and nothing at all has changed. “That isn’t necessary,” I say in a rush. “I am not certain why you invited me this evening, Your Majesty, but—”
“Oh, you’ll be charmed.” Kallias gives a careless wave of his hand, then turns his shrewd glance on Ballast. “Boy.”
Ballast’s eye flicks to me for a heartbeat before returning to Kallias. “What is it you wish me to do, Father?”
My heart is a wild thing, frantic and raging. Oh gods, I wish I were anywhere but here.
“Surprise me,” says Kallias.
Ballast shuts his eye and takes a step back from the table, his lips moving soundlessly. I can feel his magic whispering out of him, shivering through the air, glancing past my cheek. I can’t help but remember the taste of it. The fire of it. My insides turn to clotted cream.
I blink, and there comes the rush of white wings as a flock of owls descends on the balcony. Their low-throated calls are somehow chilling, their flapping stirring my hair and making the pillar of fire flare hot. One of the owls lands on Ballast’s shoulder; another takes a tiny cakefrom my plate and gulps it down whole. A third owl snatches the gold chain from Kallias’s neck, letting it fall onto his lap.
I blink again, and the owls fly away.
Ballast opens his eye.
Kallias laughs, but there is no mirth in it, and dread curls down my spine.
“Forgive him, Astridur. I will make him do something more exciting next time.”
“No need,” I say, fighting to keep my tone even. “It was most thrilling.”
“You are too kind.” Kallias sighs, bored, and orders Ballast to bring us coffee.
He does, in etched bone cups. I heap sugar and cream in mine, but I can’t quite combat the bitterness, and every sip makes my gut churn worse.
“I am surprised you haven’t asked me yet, Your Highness,” says Kallias as he drinks deep, as the fire pillar blazes too bright for me to see the stars.
“About what, Your Majesty?”
“My Collection. You don’t seem as thrilled with it as I had hoped. I am planning another performance soon.”
I am hyperaware of Ballast, stiff and still in the corner of my eye. I have to fight not to be sick, to face Kallias and say, as evenly as I can, “The children are ... remarkable.”
“The acrobat, particularly, wouldn’t you say?”
His eyes bore into mine andoh gods he knowsbut I simply force a smile through gritted teeth. “I am not particularly fond of acrobatics, Your Majesty. The heights and leaps make me feel faint.”
He grins. “Which one was your favorite, then?”
“I am ... uncomfortable choosing a favorite among children kept in cages.” My pulse thrums in my throat, and I am so afraid he’s found me out, that Kallias’s sweets and acrid coffee will be the only things in my belly when I die.
But he just raises his brows, laughing at me. “I had not thought you especially tenderhearted, Princess. They are very well looked after,you know. Orphans, all of them. They are fed and educated. The cages are only for show.”
