Tella had heard that when she was younger Empress Elantine had had a wild streak. She’d snuck into the forbidding Spice Quarter and pretended to be a commoner so she could have all sorts of scandalous adventures and romantic trysts. Unfortunately, for most of Tella’s life, the empress had been known to be far less daring. Perhaps inviting Legend’s performers here was her way of being reckless once again. But Tella doubted it; someone who ruled as long as Elantine didn’t do so with thoughtless abandon.

Somehow the inside of the palace was even more magnificent than its jewel-bright exterior. Everything was impossibly large, as if the Fates had built it merely to show off their might, and then simply left it behind when they’d disappeared. Glittering lapis floors reflected Tella’s entrance as she passed blue quartz columns larger than oak trees and crystalline oil lamps as tall as people.

Up and down the massive marble staircase, servants flitted about like flurries of snowflakes, but again Tella saw no signs of her sister or any other performers.

“Welcome.” A woman dressed in a proud shade of blue stepped in front of Tella. “I’m head matron of the sapphire wing.”

“Donatella Dragna. I’m here with Legend’s performers, and I fear I’m a little late.”

“I’d actually say you’re very late,” the matron told her, but she spoke with a smile, which gave Tella a bit of relief as the woman looked down at the list in her hands, softly humming. Until slowly the pleasant sound faded and stopped.

Her smile disappeared next. “Could you repeat your name once more?”

“It’s Donatella Dragna.”

“I see a Scarlett Dragna.”

“That’s my sister.”

The woman looked up, eyes briefly darting to the guard who’d escorted Tella in. “Your sister might be a welcome guest, but I’m afraid I don’t have you written down. Are you certain you were invited?”

8

No. Tella hadn’t been invited to the palace, but if Scarlett was on the list, Tella should have been too. Legend was playing with her. He must have removed her from the guest list after Tella’s conversation with Nigel.

She took a deep breath, refusing to be nervous, but she imagined every servant in the wing could hear the pounding of her heart. It would be so easy for the guard who’d escorted her there to toss her out into the night. No one would even notice right away, given how often Tella intentionally disappeared, and that she’d already been separated from Scarlett along with everyone else she knew in Valenda.

“My sister,” Tella said, “she’s staying here. I could share her room.”

“That would be unacceptable,” the matron answered, more stiffly than before.

“I don’t see why it matters,” Tella said. “If anything my sister would prefer it.”

“And who is your sister? Is she a royal monarch with a fifth of the world at her fingertips?”

Tella bit back from saying something that would only have her tossed out faster. “What about one of the other wings?” she asked sweetly. “There must be one empty room in such a large palace.”

“Even if there were rooms, you are not on the guest list, so you cannot stay.”

At her words the guard stalked closer, armor echoing across the exquisite foyer.

It took everything Tella had to keep from raising her voice. Instead she forced her lips to tremble and her eyes to turn watery. “Please, I have nowhere else to go,” she begged, hoping the woman had a heart somewhere beneath her starched dress. “Just find my sister and let me stay with her.”

The matron’s lips pinched, appraising Donatella in all her pathetic splendor. “I can’t let you stay here, but perhaps there’s a free cot or nest in the servants’ quarters.”

The guard shadowing her snickered.

Tella’s heart sank even further. A nest in the servants’ quarters?

“Excuse me.” The low voice rumbled directly behind her, a rough brush against the back of Tella’s neck.

Her stomach dipped and tied a knot.

Only one person’s voice did that to Tella.

Casually Dante came up to her side. A silhouette of sharp raven-wing black, from his perfect dark suit to the ink tattooing his hands. The only light came from the shimmer in his amused eyes. “Having a problem with your room?”

“Not at all.” Tella willed her cheeks not to flush with embarrassment, hoping he’d not overheard the conversation. “There’s just a tiny mix-up, but it’s been resolved.”

“What a relief. I thought I heard her say she was putting you in the servants’ quarters.”

“That’s only if there’s room,” the matron said.

Tella could have turned mortified-green and sunk into the lapis floor, but to her shock Dante, who usually enjoyed laughing at her, didn’t so much as tilt the corner of his mouth in diversion. Instead he turned the full force of his brutal gaze on the matron. “Do you know who this young lady is?”

“I beg your pardon,” said the matron, “who are you?”

“I oversee all of Legend’s performers.” Dante’s voice was full of more arrogance than usual. The type of tone that made it impossible for Tella to discern if he was speaking the truth or making up a lie. “You do not want to put her in the servants’ quarters.”

“Why is that?” asked the matron.

“She’s engaged to the heir to the throne of the Meridian Empire.”

The woman’s brows drew together warily. Tella’s might have done the same, but she instantly covered her surprise with the sort of haughty expression she imagined a royal heir’s fiancée might wear.

Of course, Tella didn’t even know who the current heir was. Elantine had no children, and her heirs were killed off faster than the news could travel to Tella’s former home on Trisda. But Tella didn’t care who her fake fiancé was, as long as it kept her from sleeping in a nest.

Unfortunately, the matron still looked skeptical. “I didn’t know His Highness had a new fiancée.”

“It’s a secret,” Dante responded flawlessly. “I believe he’s planning on announcing the engagement at his next party. So I’d recommend not saying anything. I’m sure you’ve heard what his temper is like.”

The woman went stiff. Then her eyes darted from Dante to Tella. Clearly she didn’t trust either of them, but her fear of the heir’s temper must have outweighed her good judgment.

“I’ll check again to see if there’s another room available,” she said. “We’re full for the celebration, but perhaps someone we expected hasn’t arrived.”

The moment she left, Dante turned back to Tella, leaning close so that no eavesdropping servants could hear. “Don’t rush to thank me.”

Tella supposed she did owe him a bit of gratitude. Yet the exchange coated her with the thick sensation that Dante was doing her the opposite of a favor. “I can’t figure out if you’ve just saved me or landed me in an even more unfortunate situation.”

“I found you a room, didn’t I?”

“You’ve also given me a bad-tempered fiancé.”

One corner of his full mouth lifted. “Would you rather have pretended to be my fiancée? I considered saying that, but I didn’t think that would be the best choice since—what was it you said to your sister?” He tapped a finger against his smooth chin. “Ah yes, when we kissed it was terrible, one of the worst, definitely not something you would wish to repeat.”