Draydon castle was an ugly blemish on a hill of an otherwise perfectly acceptable-looking city. It was like a black box that jutted out of the ground without even a fortress to protect it from attack. Its only advantage was high ground. The city itself had switched hands with so many rulers in history that Cyrene, even with her affinity for history, couldn’t remember past the last five hundred years. The current King held the land tenuously at best.

They stopped in front of the large wooden door branded with the Aurum symbol—an eagle wearing a crown of oak leaves, the symbol of the Huntress.

“Wood,” Cyrene said softly, shaking her head.

They dismounted, and Cyrene’s horse was shepherded away.

“This way,” a soldier said as the doors creaked open.

Cyrene’s mouth dropped open at the interior of the castle. It was night and day from the ugly exterior. The walls were a soft blue color with intricate molding. The floors were covered in the most elaborate Aurumian carpets that she had ever seen. Her parents had Aurumian rugs in their foyer, but they looked paltry into comparison to what she was sinking her booted feet into. Framed portraits lined the walls, and Cyrene had a hard time believing all of the beauty before her.

After a few turns, a man opened a door into a large room and stepped through. He bowed formally. “Announcing Lord Barkeley Iolair and his traveling companions—Master Haille Mardas, Madam Haenah Mardas, Master Roran Rourke, Madam Ava Rourke.”

Cyrene nearly rolled her eyes. The last time she had pretended to be Ahlvie’s wife, they had nearly been killed. She wasn’t looking forward to that cover story, but if being married kept the King at bay, then so be it.

They were ushered into the room. Cyrene lowered her face, but she kept her eyes trained on the throne room they had entered. It wasn’t half as elaborate as the one in Byern, but it was still gorgeous, set in Aurum reds and blues.

The King sat in the Iolair eagle throne. He was a red-faced, overweight man in layer upon layer of fine silks and a long fur cape that hung past his feet when he sat. He had straggly red hair and seemed to be balding at the crown of his head.

They all dipped into demure bows and curtsies befitting the royalty before them.

“Lord Barkeley!” the King crooned.

He stood from the throne, wobbled considerably, and then paraded down the small set of stairs. A group of attendants jumped forward to help him.

Cyrene nearly grunted in disgust at the drunk pig. What a way to hold court.

“Rise, rise, of course,” King Creighton said dismissively. He finally reached Orden, who stood and towered nearly a head taller than the man. The King clapped him on the back. “Barkeley, my old friend. It has been a long time, cousin.”

“Indeed it has,” Orden said.

“Years in fact. When I heard that you were in the city, I just had to see you! Couldn’t miss the chance to see my favorite cousin.”

Cyrene narrowed her eyes and waited for the punch line. The guy sounded like he was telling a joke, but she didn’t quite understand the humor in his words.

“Yes, of course, King Creighton. I am your humble servant,” Orden said sardonically.

The King didn’t catch the difference.

“Enough with the formalities, Barkeley! We’ve known each other since we were children.”

“As you wish, King Creighton.”

The King’s smile wavered, and then it returned just as quickly. “So, tell me everything. Where have you been all of these years? And who are your mysterious traveling companions?” He glanced over at them, his eyes lingering on Cyrene and Avoca just a touch longer than everyone else.

“As I told your commander, they were just people I happened to pick up along the road. I hardly know them,” Orden lied.

“How long will you be staying? Long enough for the ball, I hope! I know how you love a ball.”

“You’re throwing a ball? For the Eos?” he asked, acting coy.

“We have visitors!” he cried, clapping his hands together. “For the first time in the-Creator-knows-how-long, three royal houses are under one roof, Barkeley. It will be a splendid occasion. You and your friends can stay here until then, of course. That will give us all the time we will need to catch up.”

Orden tried not to look panicked, but if Cyrene could see it on his face, then surely, someone who had known him his whole life might be able to see it. Of course, the King was intoxicated.

“We already have rooms. Paid in advance, Creighton. All our belongings are there.”

“Nonsense. At The Lively Dagger? No Lord of mine is going to be staying at a dastardly inn. Since your Lordship accommodations in the city have gone out of use, you can stay here with me and my little Jesi flower.” His eyes sharpened for a second as he waited for Orden to disagree with him.

Cyrene nearly opened her mouth to do it herself. We can’t stay here in the castle! Kael was here in these walls, and there would be no way to escape then.

Ahlvie nudged her when he saw that she looked ready to speak up, and she ducked her head again. She needed to get herself under control. Orden had said to remain invisible.

“What a wonderful suggestion,” Orden said smoothly. “I’m sure Queen Jesalyn would love to have two new female attendants who are so reserved, soft-spoken, and altogether well-rounded ladies.”

Cyrene didn’t dare look at him. She plainly understood his suggestion.

“Yes, I believe my wife would love some new attendants. We should keep them close by,” he said, eyeing them carefully. “Schumle, please escort these women to the Queen and let her know that I have given her these ladies-in-waiting as a gift with my blessing.”

One of his female attendants dipped a curtsy to the King, her bosom nearly falling out of her corset. “This way,” she said to the girls.

Avoca shared a glance with Cyrene before following. She was glad to be leaving the heinous King behind them, but she was not looking forward to meeting Kael’s sister.

Cyrene straightened out her shoulders and held her head high. This was no time to panic. She couldn’t change anything that was about to happen.

Schumle stopped in front of a huge gilded door. Music was playing on the other side, and they could hear laughter. Schumle didn’t look pleased about entering these quarters.

Schumle entered the room and announced them. “Your Highness, gifts from your husband, the King. Two ladies-in-waiting, Madam Mardas and Madam Rourke.”

Cyrene and Avoca curtsied lowly before Queen Jesalyn. The music stopped playing, and all around them was silence.

The room was filled with over a dozen women in extravagant clothing with their hair piled high on their heads in extreme curls and their fingers dripping in jewels. The room itself was plush and lavish. The divans were all a soft cream, blush, and champagne-coloring and heavy on the lace with excessively gaudy trim.

The Queen sat among her ladies on a large circular cushion covered in cream silk. She wore a pink dress in the highest of Aurumian fashion with skirts that bunched around her hips to reveal several layers of darker pink and a corset that accented her tiny waist. It seemed the trend in court hadn’t yet trickled down to the commoners for the billowy sleeves had been replaced with a tight fit to her elbows and lace trim on the sleeves and the neckline. Her dark hair was in the same enormous curls with a long white feather pinned in, attached to a brooch of diamonds.

But it was the blue-gray eyes that made Cyrene stop. Those ran in the family.

“Well, what do we have here?” Queen Jesalyn asked. “Gifts from my husband. Oh, how I love gifts. You may rise.”

They rose and waited, praying that Cyrene’s disguise was enough.

“And what…lovely gifts they are.” Jesalyn choked on her laughter.

Her other ladies couldn’t hold it together.

“Why, I’m not sure what to do with commoners in such…clothing and without a single trace of makeup. Why, I still think I’m the only one who can wear my face natural, but that is the Dremylon grace.”

Cyrene nearly sighed with relief. If Jesalyn thought her face was unadorned, then her mask had worked. That was all that mattered. Not Jesalyn’s catty behavior or rude comments.

“Where did you get such…pretty garments and in such beautiful colors?” Jesalyn asked.

Her ladies snickered behind their hands as they exchanged glances with each other.

Cyrene sighed. It was hard enough, keeping two Dremylons in line, and she didn’t want to have to deal with a third.

“Our apologies, Your Majesty,” Cyrene said, offering a second curtsy. She wanted Jesalyn to think she was obedient. “We’re from the Western banks of Aurum, near the Byern border at Albion. The styles of Queen Kaliana permeate into our city.” Cyrene stepped forward, seeing that she had gotten Jesalyn’s attention. “When we traveled here for the festival season, we had commissioned dozens of gowns for the journey, and we each carried three trunks with us, only to discover that the gorgeous silks and humble slim-fitting gowns hadn’t yet traveled this far east.”

Jesalyn turned up her nose at the slight insult. To say that the Queen of Byern had a style that had not yet reached Aurum would surely put Jesalyn in a tizzy for new gowns, if she were the type of person that Cyrene suspected she was.

“We bought new attire in the city when we arrived so that the citizens wouldn’t keep marveling at our gowns and asking about the patterns,” Cyrene continued. “It was quite wearisome, as you can imagine. We were just unaware that we would receive a summons on such short notice or else we would have made ourselves more presentable for Your Majesty.” Cyrene kept her smile as sugary sweet as possible.

Avoca idly stood by. At least she didn’t glare at Jesalyn.

“Well, I am always interested in new fashions. Aren’t I, girls?” Jesalyn asked her ladies. “Perhaps you will offer your trunks of gowns to my husband as a gift to me, as he has so graciously offered you hospitality.”

Avoca tensed next to Cyrene.

“I would have, of course, Your Highness, but we already sold most of the gowns to have new ones commissioned in your style while we were here.”

“How unfortunate,” Jesalyn said with false sympathy.

Just then, a woman scurried into Jesalyn’s quarters, bumping into Avoca. She quickly strode around Avoca and ducked her chin to her chest. “Queen Jesalyn.” She dipped into a curtsy. “I apologize for my tardiness.”

Cyrene turned to gaze at the intruder, and her mouth nearly fell open.

Maelia!

“Affiliate Maelia,” Jesalyn said with a keen smile. “How nice of you to join us. How does my devious brother fare?”

“He has gone into the city, Your Majesty,” Maelia said meekly.

“Again?” she grumbled. “It’s as if he didn’t come all this way to see me!” Everyone shifted uncomfortably. “He’s so obsessed with finding this Affiliate for Edric. You’d think they were both sleeping with her.”

“Oh, Jesalyn, you are so bad,” a lady seated to her right said.

“What? As if the Byern court is any more pious than our own,” she countered with arched eyebrows. “Dremylon men are notorious.”

Cyrene stiffened at the comment, and Avoca nudged her to remind her to remain calm.

The lady on Jesalyn’s left giggled into her white feather fan and whispered something under her breath.

“Speak up, Salissa,” Jesalyn commanded.

“Sorry. I only said that perhaps it isn’t just the Dremylon men.”

“Salissa! I’m scandalized.” Jesalyn put her hands over her heart, but she was smiling, despite the supposed insult. “Anyway, Affiliate Maelia, please welcome our new guests. They are from the Western banks near Albion. A generous gift from my husband.”

Maelia turned to face them and struggled to keep her face blank.

Finally…finally, they were back together.

It had been so long since Cyrene had seen her friend, and all she wanted to do was run to her and give her a hug. The separation had been more difficult than she had even realized now that she was looking at Maelia. She had left Rhea behind and acquired Avoca along the way, but Maelia really knew what Cyrene had gone through as an Affiliate. They were bonded in their own way because of that.

“Affiliate,” Cyrene said, dropping a curtsy to Maelia that Avoca mirrored.

“Welcome to Court,” Maelia said demurely.

“All three of you, find a seat,” Jesalyn commanded. “We will outfit our guests better for the next time you are in my presence. But, first, I would like Emari to finish her story about Lord Wimberely.”

All the ladies broke out into giggles while Cyrene, Avoca, and Maelia quickly sequestered themselves at the back of the room.