Chapter Twenty-One WITCHING MOON

Chapter Twenty-One

WITCHING MOON

Week Two, Day Ten

Year 3000

Sachi was starting to dislike the color blue.

Which was unfortunate, because so many things she adored were varying shades of it. A clear summer sky. A robin's egg. Siren's Bay at midday. Hell, Sachi saw blue every time she looked in a mirror.

But, right now, staring down three partially finished dresses in helpless frustration, she couldn't bear to look at it. Not the gold-laced brocade of dark navy, or the periwinkle silk, or the royal-blue chiffon.

"I don't care, Lyssa," she said finally. "Just ... pick whichever one you like best."

"Are you sure? This ball is in your honor, and the Emperor wants you to be pleased."

She would be pleased when she'd finished her work here and could go home. The previous day had been relatively uneventful. She'd taken the midday meal with Sorin, then been banished to her luxurious cell for the rest of the day. And since Sorin had finally stopped entering her chambers unannounced, Sachi had decided to explore the palace. Long after sunset, she'd attempted a full survey, only to be stubbornly turned back at the door by her guards.

Still, Sachi had other methods of exploration at her disposal. She'd entered the Dream, intent on mapping the palace's strengths and weaknesses. But where Sorin's home had walls suffused with webs of the Dream, this place had layers of it, so thick they were practically solid. Doors and windows were indistinguishable from walls. Sachi could move through them with ease, but she couldn't discern any of the corresponding structures in the real world.

So she'd retreated, but she had not given up. Because she'd felt it again—the strange vibrations coming up through the floors, as if some unknown force were reaching out to her. Calling for her.

The layout of the palace didn't matter. What Sachi really needed was to find the source of that power. She would get through this ball, and she would try again.

She shrugged at her maid as she eyed the unfinished dresses laid out on her bed. "I like all three of them equally well. So, you see, I can't decide."

Lyssa bit her lower lip, her fingers smoothing over the dark navy. "I don't want to presume too much, but ... if it were me, my lady? I would choose this one."

Sachi eyed the dress. It was solidly, almost modestly, constructed, with long sleeves and a reasonably high neckline. The bodice and hem had been hand-embroidered with gold thread, with lovely, lacy patterns that reminded Sachi of the aged family portraits that had lined the gallery hall at Castle Roquebarre.

It was the least revealing, most armor-like of any of the dresses presented, which had no doubt prompted the maid's suggestion. But while Sachi appreciated Lyssa's concern, mere clothing wouldn't save her from the vagaries of Sorin's assembled Imperial Court.

Gwynira aside, Sachi had no allies here, even grudging ones. While the rest of Sorin's court displayed varying levels of curiosity about her, that was where their consideration appeared to end. If they thought of her at all, it was with either predatory interest or dismissive disdain. They showed no hint of awareness that she might be dangerous. Even Gwynira seemed to have offered her the dagger now hidden in her wardrobe because she lacked for other options, and had not so much as looked at Sachi since.

It had obviously never occurred to any of them that Sachi might harm them—the Betrayer included. Sorin treated her solicitously, had even shown her whispers of kindness. Mostly, he courted her, quite obviously biding his time until she let him touch her. He had finally stopped thinking she might run away or try to escape, because Sachi had mostly managed to convince him that she didn't hate him to the depths of her very soul.

It had never crossed his mind that she might try to murder him. A curious thing, since he, above all others, should have known how thoroughly she'd been trained to do just that. She'd learned how to administer poisons from Void-cultivated flowers, potent and quick enough to kill even a god. There were complicated explosives whose compositions and chemistry she had committed to memory. There was even the time-honored blade across the throat in the sticky, breathless aftermath of sex.

But Sorin didn't fear her. No one here did. Did she play the role of wide-eyed, sheltered princess a little too well? Were these strange gods just that lethal, in ways Sachi had yet to discover? Or had their instincts merely whispered the truth—that she didn't want to kill anyone, and never had?

In the end, the reasons didn't matter, only the outcome. If this court decided they wanted to hurt her, nothing as prosaic as a dress would stop them.

Still, it would not hurt to clothe herself purposefully, and with intent. "That's a splendid idea, Lyssa. Yes. Please have the seamstresses complete that one for tonight."

"Of course." Lyssa smiled as she began to pack away the other two partially constructed gowns. "The gossip in the servants' quarters this morning is that the Stalker has finally arrived—the Emperor was most displeased by her tardiness—but no one has heard a word about the Shapechanger in weeks. If he doesn't appear to honor you, the Emperor will be furious."

They were, to Sachi's knowledge, the last two members of the court she had yet to meet. "Surely Sorin must know where he is."

"I'm certain he does. I've heard he keeps a much closer watch on the court since the loss of Grand Duke Nikkon."

Hearing his name was still enough to raise the fine hairs on Sachi's nape. But his mention did present an opening, a chance to establish more intimacy with Lyssa, who heard everything and could tell her secrets perhaps even the gods didn't know.

It was a risk, but so was Sachi's very presence here in the Empire. So she told the truth. "Did you know that my previous maid is the one who killed him?"

Lyssa stilled, the periwinkle silk clutched tight to her chest. "A maid killed the Grand Duke?"

"A maid. An assassin. The embodiment of the Endless Void." Sachi met Lyssa's eyes. "My lover. Zanya is all those things, and so much more."

Lyssa paled until her freckles stood out starkly against her skin. "My lady, that sounds like blasphemy. You must not repeat such things where others can hear them." She hurried to tuck the dress away before returning to Sachi. "There is no Endless Void, and the Dream is simply another word for the Emperor's will to see us all strong and protected."

Perversely, Sachi almost laughed. It was a far cry from what Sorin had said to the High Court during his visit to Siren's Bay. He'd expressed disappointment in Nikkon for not realizing who Sachi was—insinuating, of course, that he believed her to be Zanya's counterpart, the Everlasting Dream. Just like the rest of them.

After the events of the past few weeks, Sachi had to admit she was a bit more open to the possibility, though she still wasn't fully convinced. So the fact that Sorin's lies rankled? That surprised her.

She gave voice to her irritation. "I haven't even agreed to be his Empress, and here he is, claiming I don't exist. How rude of him."

Lyssa somehow went even paler, dropping to one knee with her eyes fixed on the floor. "Forgive me, my lady, I must have misspoken. The Emperor would never diminish you. It is for the priests to understand the nature of such things, not foolish maids."

Remorse flooded Sachi. Her sharp words had cut, but not the person who deserved it. "No, Lyssa. I'm sorry. Please." She reached for the other woman to pull her to her feet. "You said nothing wrong. I just ..." From this vantage point, Sachi could see under the high, starched collar of Lyssa's uniform. And bruises ringed her neck.

Bruises in the shape of fingers.

"My lady?" Lyssa scrambled to her feet, her face tight with self-consciousness. "Please, pay me no mind. Sit, and I will help you ready for breakfast."

"Who was it?" Sachi's voice was amazingly calm, considering the fury bubbling through her veins. "Was it Demir? Is he the one who choked you?"

Color flooded the girl's cheeks. But it was the resignation in her eyes and the helpless slump of her shoulders that truly hurt. "He could make trouble for me with my guild, my lady. Being tradeless in the Empire is a terrible fate."

"No, Demir will disturb you no longer." Sachi turned and, heedless of her bare feet, unbrushed hair, and dressing gown, left the room.

Her guards jumped to follow her, though they didn't try to stop her, incandescent as she was with rage. Perhaps her temper startled them. More likely, they only had orders to contain Sorin's poor, sad little captive princess when she wasn't allowed to be out.

And right now, she was due at breakfast.

Her anger carried her to the dining hall, where she pushed through the doors with no announcement, no servants rushing before her to prepare. "Where is he?"

Sorin sat at the head of the table, his teacup frozen halfway to his lips. His gaze swept over her disarray, lingering in places she had no patience for, especially when his slow smile was so patronizing. "Who would that be, my dear?"

She gritted her teeth. "Demir. He has injured my maid, left bruises on her body. I would see him answer for it."

"If that is your desire, we will get to the truth of the matter." Sorin set down his cup and gestured to one of the guards. "Fetch Demir at once. And bring my lady's breakfast." He pointed to the chair on his left. "Join me, Sachielle."

She had no choice. She sat. "I am not ignorant, Sorin. I grew up in Dalvish's court. I know how these things work. You will ask him, and he will deny it or say that she enjoyed herself. And you will take his word, because he is one of your nobles and she is a servant."

"Is it so impossible that she did enjoy herself? I agree that leaving bruises is gauche, but consider how many fools throw themselves into the Dragon's bed. There's no accounting for taste."

Sachi clenched her hands into fists beneath the table. "I am not innocent, either. I know what sorts of activities people can enjoy together. This was not that."

Sorin studied her, his expression unreadable. He was still watching her when the guard returned with Grand Duke Demir striding behind him, clearly irritated by the summons. "What is it?"

"My lady says you have touched her maid in an inappropriate fashion and left bruises behind."

Demir cast a glare at Sachi, one that left her in no doubt of how much he'd like to choke her . "So now it's a crime to bed a girl properly?"

"Was the girl willing?" Sorin pressed.

Demir actually laughed. "Willing enough to use my name to discourage other suitors, wasn't she?"

"Such odd notions you have," Sachi said evenly. "You say these words— willing , properly , suitors —and yet I don't believe you know what any of them truly mean."

The Beast took an angry step forward, his mouth opening ... and shutting again after a cautious look at Sorin, who was neatly folding his napkin.

"You say the girl was willing." Sorin pushed his chair back and rose. "My lady says she was not. I'm sure you can see where this leaves you."

It left Demir furious, judging by the look in his eyes—but not reckless enough to challenge the Emperor to his face. "Fine, I'll leave her be. She was starting to bore me anyway."

His eyes still burned with thwarted ire, so Sachi added, "And there will be no retaliation. From you, from her guild. From anyone."

"Of course not." Sorin undid his cuff links and set them above his plate. "I'll see to it."

"And I'll stay away from the bitch," Demir growled.

"While that is an admirable sentiment, Demir, the fact remains that you were reckless. You injured a member of the future Empress's household." Sorin began to meticulously roll up his sleeves as he stepped from behind the table. "Restitution is due, I'm afraid."

Demir dropped to one knee, his anger melting into panic with a chilling speed that confused Sachi. "Your Majesty, I'm sorry—"

"You will be," Sorin said gently.

Then he hauled back his fist and drove it down into Demir's face so hard that Sachi heard his cheekbone shatter. She recoiled, closing her eyes and turning her head as another blow landed, then another.

"Stop," she whispered.

Instead, she heard the distinctive crack of breaking ribs. Memory assailed her, the ghosts of beatings too much like this one, delivered with a straight face and pragmatic cruelty. Her hands and feet grew cold, and she heard herself breathing too fast. Heard, as if she were already outside herself, drifting away.

"Please, Sorin, stop." She forced her eyes open, because whatever carnage was taking place before her, it was better than drowning in her memories.

Or was it? The beating continued, and Sachi's vision narrowed and darkened at the edges, tunneled until she could see only bits of the scene before her. Split skin. Flecks of blood landing on the pristine tile. Sorin's determined fists.

Stop.

At last, it did. Demir lay curled on the floor with Sorin standing over him, his head tilted in assessment, as if he were trying to determine whether a few more punches or kicks were warranted. Apparently decided, he walked back toward the table.

Sachi flinched, but he only retrieved a napkin and began to methodically clean the blood from his hands. "You see?" he told her brightly. "You shouldn't assume things must always go badly. I trusted your word, did I not?"

Sachi couldn't feel her lips, and her hands were shaking so hard they rattled the silverware when she bumped the table. "You did, Your Majesty."

Several guards came in to drag away a groaning Demir. A maid dodged past them, carrying a tray with Sachi's breakfast. Sympathy filled the young woman's eyes as she hurriedly placed a plate full of eggs and toast in front of her, but any concern she felt for Sachi didn't stop her from fleeing the room as soon as she could.

Next to Sachi, Sorin picked up his fork and took a bite of his eggs. "These eggs are from your own coops, you know. Specially bred for your table. You'll never taste finer."

Sachi couldn't cry or scream, so she shut down. She took all her terror and gut-wrenching panic and balled it up into a little corner of her mind. Just tucked it away, where it would keep until she could deal with it later. So she was able to smile and nod, but her attention kept drifting to the center of the room.

One of Demir's teeth still lay on the floor, in a pool of blood.

And finally, Sachi thought she understood what the Ice Queen had truly meant, and why no one here was afraid of her.