The Conquering, appendix A:

  The great wyvern’s femur

  Ground to ash of bone

  Iron wrapped in bone

  Burned long and slow

  A sword of glass—shatter it not

  Blood of a friend

  Eye of a foe

  The beast’s fire to burn glass to night

  And night to death.

  “The Lady Aubrey, Daughter of the late High Guard William Gallant.”

  A hush falls over the crowded ballroom. Every person turns to fix their gaze upon me as I step into the ballroom. I pin my shoulders back, chin level with the floor, and Abel’s fan clenched tight in my fist. No longer a doe-eyed stranger to this world.

  I wear a crimson dress—my stepmother’s choosing. The collar rises high around the back of my neck to hide my scars, but the neckline plunges nearly to my navel. A thin, sheer strip of fabric holds the two halves together and does nothing to hide the splash of gold across my chest and upper abdomen. The gold markings of my bare arms glisten in the chandelier light. With every step, the high slits on either side of the dress’s skirt reveal the gold sparkling from my ankles to my hips.

  I am on display, in all my golden glory. For the last time.

  They ogle and whisper behind their fans. All the gossip, the socializing, the political positioning culminates tonight. Tonight, Prince Emory chooses his bride and it’s finally over for me.

  Farnell will be rescued. The Disciples will wipe the cocky smirks from these cruel nobles. Abel, my Lord Rael, will take me away from all of this. He’ll ask Clara for me, and with Maurus committed to Lilianna, she’ll have no choice. I’ll never be on display again.

  Tonight, it all ends.

  I pluck a champagne flute from a passing server’s tray and make my way towards the banquet tables. If I have to endure it one last time, I might as well enjoy myself. Hopefully the champagne will bury my anxiety enough to do whatever theatrics I must if the Prince or the High Guard attempt to leave the ballroom.

  I bite into an explosion of strawberries, sugar, and cream pastry and even that can’t fully extinguish the churn in my gut. But it tastes good. I finish it as I survey the room. The Prince isn’t here yet. A relief in part, and fear in the other. If he never makes it to the ballroom, the Disciples might not get their chance.

  I catch sight of the High Guard stalking the opposite side of the ballroom, his hands clasped behind his back. Odd he’s here without the prince. Perhaps he’s conducting a security check before the Prince arrives? The last ball I attended at the palace, I’d been quite literally the last to arrive when I presented myself to the Queen. If only I knew then how much I might’ve avoided by tripping, failing, by being not enough.

  Nicoletta approaches with her usual cluster of companions, but dismisses them with a shrill laugh just before she reaches me. The women laugh and move away to watch from afar.

  Great. I take a long swallow of my champagne, enjoy the surge of bubbles. To think Nicoletta and I are on the same side now.

  “Lady Aubrey.” Nicoletta gives the tiniest dip of a curtsy.

  I return the gesture and fan myself with Abel’s fan. “Lady Nicoletta, must we play these little games anymore?”

  Nicoletta’s eyes narrow and her pouty red lips press together. Her gaze flicks across the room as she tosses her long red curls over her shoulder. “Don’t think so highly of yourself to assume I spend a single second longer in your company than I have to.”

  I stifle the urge to roll my eyes and raise the champagne glass to my mouth.

  Nicoletta plucks the glass away and downs the last of it herself. “You shouldn’t be drinking tonight. You’ll need your wits.”

  I draw in a calming breath. “What do you want, Nicoletta?”

  Nicoletta closes her eyes as if I am the most painful person she’s ever spoken to. “I am trying to help you, if you can believe that, because I hardly can.”

  I open my mouth, torn between offense and bewilderment. “Why?”

  “Because, contrary to what you might think about me, I do have principles and I can’t—” She cuts herself off and smoothly moves around to my other side, taking a good look around us as she does so. “You and I are, well, we’re in this together and I can’t…” Her face softens. “I can’t let you go into this blind.”

  “Into what blind?” I suddenly wish I hadn’t eaten the pastry or had any sips of champagne.

  Nicoletta reaches across the desert table for a strawberry, moving her head close to mine as she does. “It’s about tonight, the Prince plans to—”

  “Lady Aubrey.”

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  We both spin to find the High Guard striding up to us. His expression is superficially impassive, but his eyes hold a hardened urgency.

  “Pardon my interruption.” He thrusts out a gloved hand. “I must steal Lady Aubrey briefly.”

  “Of course, High Guard.” Nicoletta smiles tightly, though she meets my gaze with that same soft sympathy in her eyes. Then she flits a few yards away and catches another champagne flute from a passing tray.

  “Lady Aubrey.” The High Guard nods to me, hand still extended. The intensity of his gaze is alarming. I want to dismiss it as hostile, yet there’s something else there.

  “Of course.” I put my hand in his and his broad, leather-clad fingers dwarf mine. It’s not like I can refuse. This is the man I most need to keep my eye on. Yet I glance over my shoulder as I follow him, wishing I had just one more minute with Nicoletta to hear what she’d been about to say.

  “This is your one chance,” the High Guard says under his breath, jerking my attention back to him. He tucks my hand into the crook of his elbow, eyes fixed ahead, as if he’s not spoken anything at all.

  One chance. My heart lurches into a frenzy. He knows. Skies Above. Chip must have given my name during the torture. Damnit. I can’t blame poor Chip, but… Skies, the High Guard knows. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean.”

  The High Guard stops and turns to face me. He nods his head to the wall and a servants’ access door beside us. “Inside this door is a hallway. At the end of the hallway, turn right. It will lead down another hallway and that will lead you to another door. Go out the door and follow the windows left until you reach a guarded door. The guards there will let you out into the front courtyard. If you ever hope to flee this place, go now.”

  I stare at him. Flee this place? I don’t understand. I shake my head. I have to be here. Deserve to be here. This man is just as complicit as the Prince in Farnell’s imprisonment. He stood by as Chip burned to death. He’s my enemy. This is some kind of trick, surely. “I’m not going anywhere. I understand you don’t like me and have never thought I’m good enough for anyone, let alone the Prince, but I am not leaving this ball.”

  The rigid muscles of his jaw twitches. “I don’t think you’re quite understanding me.”

  I raise my chin and glare into his eyes. “I am not leaving this ball unless you drag me out of it.”

  The High Guard’s face contorts. “Skies above, I should have dragged you out of that fireplace all those months ago. You’d have hated me, but I could have saved you from this mess.”

  “You saw me?” Skies, he had seen me after all. How could dragging me out and humiliating me in Maurus Venon’s library have saved me from anything?

  “I didn’t know how bad things would get, I’d hoped—” He cuts himself off, like he was about to say something he’d regret. He curses again and rips off his right glove.

  His hand is broad and scarred, with long fingers and…

  A smooth stub where his smallest finger should be.

  Ray.

  My Ray.

  I jerk my head up. His face. Covered in scars. Disfigured beyond recognition. Except those eyes. Oh, Skies, I should have recognized those eyes. Not Rahiid Venon. My Ray. My best friend. He’s been here, all this time, inside this… mutilated body.

  “Ray,” I breathe and it sounds impossible, even now. “What did they do to you?”

  He presses his lips together and tugs the glove back on.

  I see it now. The odd stiffness of the fifth finger. The glove’s finger must be stuffed.

  “We don’t have time to get into that. This is your last chance. He won’t ever let you go. You need to run, now.” His expression softens, even beneath the corded scars. “Please.”

  My lips part as I try to process his words. “You’re a Venon?” No, I grew up with him. He ran firewood tunnels with Farnell. His mother worked in the palace kitchen. I would have known.

  “Half,” he says.

  And I suddenly understand. I knew that. A half peasant bastard. The scandal. Clara had used it as an example of why to never keep attractive staff. After the attack, something must have happened to reveal it. Maybe Maurus’s father recognized Ray. Maybe—

  “Aubrey,” Ray says. “You must go. Now.”

  “I can’t,” I say, the sound barely more than a whisper. A horrible feeling creeps into my gut. Because I have to stay. I have a part to play. I can’t explain Abel’s plans and I can’t abandon them.

  Ray, my Ray, closes his eyes. The most expression I’ve ever seen from this adult version of him, like I’ve stabbed him myself. He mutters a curse under his breath. “You don’t understand—”

  “There you are!” calls an all-too familiar voice.

  The devastation that floods Ray’s face is unmistakable. And then it’s like watching myself. He shuts down. All traces of my Ray disappear. He straightens almost imperceptibly and his shoulders square. Rahiid Venon, the High Guard, is back. “I’m sorry,” he says, then turns to face the Prince.

  The pit of my stomach sinks sharply as we both turn away from that door—away from the escape he begged me to take.

  I might’ve just made a terrible mistake.

  “Ah!” Prince Emory says as he reaches us, beaming like a man with no fears at all. “Excellent, Rahiid, you can be useful after all. Wherever did you find her? No matter.” He waves his hand dismissively and bows to me. “My dear Lady Aubrey.”

  My skin crawls. I force my knees to bend into a curtsy. “Your Highness.”

  “Emory, please,” he corrects.

  When did we return to first-names?

  The High Guard—Ray—meets my gaze. He won’t let you go.

  Emory waves the High Guard away, as if there’s no problem in the kingdom he cannot dismiss as easily. He offers me his hand. “Come, the ball cannot begin until the first dance is danced!”

  I blink at his smooth palm, unaffected by labor or dedicated practice.

  A flicker of irritation flashes across his face at my hesitation. He’s so easy to read.

  “Your Highness, I’m not sure I am the—”

  The prince grasps my hand. “Nonsense. All anyone wants to see is you, the beautiful and elegant Lady Aubrey. We cannot disappoint them.”

  He pulls me to the dance floor, and all eyes turn to fix upon us. Whispers. Exchanged looks of surprise.

  My own expression probably mirrors theirs. He’s supposed to be dancing with Nicoletta. Skies, he hasn’t changed his mind, has he? He isn’t intending to pick me? Is that what Nicoletta was trying to tell me? Is that why Ray chose this moment to reveal himself and offer me a way out?

  Emory pulls me to him, and the music begins.

  I brace my arms, maintaining a rigid barrier. Maybe it’s all theatrics, a bait and switch for high society to murmur and whisper about. To cast doubt, so they don’t know for sure he’s chosen Nicoletta until he does. Surely that’s the case. He clearly loves their eyes upon him, their gossip, their constant attention.

  Emory smiles as he leads me around the dance floor, our steps in time with one another out of skill rather than any synchronicity between us. “You look ravishing tonight. You’re as golden as the rings upon my fingers.”

  “Thank you,” I say, as if such words flatter me. It doesn’t matter what this man wants. Abel said they’d make their move before the Prince makes his choice, anyway. As soon as Abel arrives, all of this will be over. By midnight, he said.

  I glance over my shoulder as we rotate. Only a few minutes until midnight. And, watching from a few steps away—exactly as we planned—is the High Guard with a scowl. Everything is as it should be.

  So I endure the way Prince Emory looks at me, the way he smiles at me. Like I am his for the taking. A trophy to be won and put on display.

  For all intents and purposes, it’s all I’ve ever been. What I’ve been taught to be my entire life. For this moment, to be this man’s prize.

  Until Abel.

  Composure. Commitment. Conviction.

  I can do this one last time.