“It is my deepest honor to present . . .”
I jump. Dendera has moved to the dais, her voice urging a hush over the music and chatting voices. Everyone turns to face us.
“. . . the savior of Winter . . .”
Nessa tugs on my hand, bouncing in her excitement, but I can’t join her. At the edge of the crowd, on the other side of the dais, Alysson grins up at Dendera, one hand tucked into Mather’s arm. But he stares straight at me, eyes unblinking. His mouth opens like he wants to say something, but he catches himself in the heavy silence of the ballroom and hesitates. Trapped between those three months we went without talking and our interaction earlier.
Before anything can happen, Dendera’s voice bursts out into the ballroom with such force that I expect the rest of the ceiling to crumble.
“. . . Queen Meira Dynam!”
The crowd switches from watchful to cheering, a frenzied explosion that overwhelms the lyres as they start up again. Nessa eases her hand from mine and I move toward the dais with cautious steps, the cheers of the crowd ringing in my ears. My people, applauding.
No matter what happens, this ceremony was worth it, if only to hear my people so happy. I draw their voices into my heart, lock them away deep inside of me, and climb the dais, putting Noam, Theron, Nikoletta, and Caspar on my right. They’re close enough that I know they can see me trembling, can probably hear me gagging on air.
The crowd’s excitement ebbs until silence hangs heavier than any cheer. All eyes on me.
“We are here today . . .” Mouth dry, I push out loud words. “We are here today to pay our thanks for the brave acts of Cordell and Autumn.”
I wave Sir, Greer, and Finn forward, each still carrying the crates. “These past months have allowed us to reopen our mines, signifying that Winter is a viable, living kingdom again.”
The last part I say to Noam, staring at him though my voice carries around the room. His eyes flicker as my men flank me on the dais.
I motion Finn and his two crates forward. “To Autumn, the first of much that is owed.”
The crowd breaks into a reverent applause as Finn lays the goods at Caspar’s feet. Caspar bows his head in wordless thanks and Nikoletta applauds softly. Neither of them seems put off by the small offering—in fact, they simply seem grateful to be here at all.
I wave Sir and Greer forward. “And to Cordell. The first of many payments.”
Noam eyes the three crates that they lay at his feet before glancing at me, to Sir, and even farther back, to the hall door. No one else moves to bring forward the rest of the payment.
His face twists. The glow around the dagger at his hip wrenches from delicate lavender to heavy indigo. “You must be mistaken.” His words are soft, just for those on the dais.
Sir and Greer back away, joining Finn at the edge of the stage. I smile as serenely as I can, ignoring the way Theron watches me, silent, evaluating.
“Winter owes Autumn and Cordell much,” I say, keeping my voice elevated. “And we will continue to pay both until our debts are cleared. We thank these kingdoms for their service and sacrifice.” I start a heavy clap that catches and spreads, signaling the end of the ceremony.
The din of cheers and applause rises again, as does the lyre music, kicking up in a post-ceremony celebration. The guests turn into it, swaying in chatting groups, everyone pleasantly distracted as Noam grabs my arm before I can duck off the dais.
“This is far from over,” he growls, his fingers bruising my bare skin.
I look up at him, but I don’t see him. The stronger pull of conduit magic living in my body connects to Noam’s magic through skin-to-skin contact, and memories pour from his head into my own, the same I’ve seen before: Noam, at his dying wife’s bedside, but something about his remorse is . . . off.
A flood of violent emotions hits me, overpowering everything else.
I will destroy her, Noam thinks. I will not be denied what is mine by a child.
Sir pushes Noam back. “None of that here,” he growls through clenched teeth.
A movement on the edge of the dais says the Cordellan soldiers have readied themselves, waiting for Noam to give the order. Beyond them, the laughter and music of the party doesn’t dwindle, no one outside of us noticing the tension.
I lean close to Noam. “We will repay what we owe you, but Winter never agreed to the things you demand.”
Noam eases forward, his hot breath bursting across my face. “You cannot win against me, child-queen. I will raze this kingdom as brutally as the Shadow of the Seasons if I have to.”
Theron grabs his father’s arm. “You don’t mean that?”
Noam doesn’t turn away from me. “I do.” He tips his head, his anger lighting in a new expression: scorn. “What do you intend to do with the resources you kept? Go ahead. Use this trip to negotiate aid for your pathetic land. But know this—” He jabs a finger at me and I lurch back, shock making me pliable. He knows what I intend to do? “No amount of allies will save you from my wrath. You think I fear the other Rhythms? No, Lady Queen—this is the final act of impudence I will tolerate. I will stay in Winter while you search the world, and if you return without a way to open that door, I will forcibly take your kingdom. No more games, no more stalling; Winter will be mine. Prove to me that you are useful. Make me glad I let you live.”
Theron shoves his father back, teetering him toward the edge of the stage. “Stop.”
But Noam is too far gone for intervention. His top lip flickers in a snarl and he catches Theron’s arm in an unrelenting grip. “Don’t think I don’t know where your heart is, boy. This trip isn’t just a test for Winter—prove to me that you are worthy to be my heir. I will tolerate no more games from any of you.”