House of Secrets and Vows (Crown of Deceit #1)

15. Fae Brandy

15

FAE brANDY

T o get to the prince, I need to find the person in the red masquerade mask, which is proving to be far more difficult than the others.

I weave in and out of the room, which is now packed and humid. Sweat pools on my forehead and in my palms where I clutch the three tokens I've already earned. Losing any of them would mean wasting the entire night.

As I scan the room for what feels like the thousandth time, I catch the gaze of the woman in the golden mask. She turns her head to the side and nods toward the way I just came from.

Did I miss the masked person?

I spin around and look again, convinced after another few minutes of searching that I only thought the woman was trying to help me. But just as I'm about to give up, I notice the small hallway at the front of the once-crypt.

It’s there I find the red-masked man tossing a blade in the air and catching it by the hilt. He’s tall, with a lanky build and golden-blonde hair pulled into a loose tail at the base of his head.

"Ah, finally." He sighs with relief. "You're here for a token, right?"

He points the blade at me, and I hesitate, wondering if he’s about to stab me. At my hesitation, he lowers the blade. "Oh, sorry."

“Yes, I’m here for a token," I answer, only slightly less concerned about what earning it might entail.

"Thank the gods! I've been bored out of my mind." He tosses the blade to his other hand. "This is the best challenge, in my not-so-humble opinion, and only one other person has attempted it all night.”

“Perhaps hiding in a back corner wasn’t the best choice.” I take in the small hallway, noticing the wooden target hung at its end. Two more blades dangle from his belt, each catching the flickering light of the candle-lit sconces lighting the space. “That or tossing around a dagger might have turned people away.”

The masked man glances at his weapon.

“Both fair points.” He bends down and opens a small chest sitting on the edge of the room, pulling out three more blades. Unlike the silver hilts of his blade, the ones he hands to me have hilts made of dark bronze. “But you’re here now, so let’s play. We each get three throws: one point if you hit the outer circle, two points if you hit the inner circle, and five points if you hit the bullseye."

He moves to the side.

I admire the weapons, both well crafted with elegant swirl details adorning their hilts.

"And are you a proficient blade thrower?" Since I have no belt, I set two of the blades near my feet.

"I dally with the sport.” He tosses one of the blades in the air again and catches it. "But I'll be playing with my off hand."

"What a gentleman." I quirk my brow with a half-grin.

"Oh, I am." He smiles back, and despite the mask covering his face, I can tell he is someone who smiles with his eyes. "Normally, I'd let the lady go first, but I've recently learned that the chivalrous act is to let the lady choose who starts.”

"Such wisdom," I joke. "I'll give you the first throw."

He dips his gaze to the line painted on the ground in red ink that resembles dried blood.

I take three steps back to give him room. "Please tell me that you didn't cut yourself earlier."

"No injuries today." He moves so that both of his feet are behind the line as he sets himself up to throw. He raises one of his blades in his right hand, which must mean that he is usually left-handed, and with a quick flick of his wrist, his first blade hits the inner circle. "Two points for me."

As we switch places, I say, "Quite the throw for your off hand."

He only smirks.

Unlike him, my right hand is my dominant one, and I have every intention to use it. I raise my arm, crank back my wrist, and chuck the blade straight ahead. It hits just above his in the middle of the inner circle.

Not only are the small daggers pretty to look at but they’re also well-balanced.

His mouth shifts into admiration. "Impressive."

We each throw another blade, both landing on the opposite side of the inner circle as before. This time, his brow furrows. "I'm not used to ladies being so skilled at knife throwing."

"Perhaps I'm just lucky."

I am lucky, but not at throwing knives. That's all mastery. But I’m lucky that this is the final challenge.

He steps up to the line again, exhales, and lands the blade just inside the bullseye.

When he turns to me, half a smile tilts his mouth. "Your turn."

With five blades stuck in the board, this is the most challenging throw yet. Bouncing off any of the others will end in no points, and anything less than a bullseye will end in all my effort being for nothing.

I was six the first time I threw a blade.

My best childhood friend took me out to practice every day, but soon it became a daily game for both of us. At first, I’d only won on occasion. But soon, I won every time I tried to win.

I return to the line, my stance shoulder-width apart and solid. Before today, I'd have thought I could hit the bullseye any time I tried. I used to be that good. But it has been well over ten years since I last played against my friend, back before I came to Valazica.

On the first throw, I aimed to match the masked man, but on the second throw, I tried for the bullseye. Tried and missed.

This time, I lift my posture with a deep breath and, exhaling as I throw, flick the blade. The second it takes for the blade to hit the target feels more like a minute, but when the weapon strikes the middle of the bullseye, I can't resist a small squeal.

"Seven points each," the man says, clapping. "So, a tie."

"Do we play again?"

Now that I’ve warmed up, I can do better.

He pulls all the daggers from the target, leaving me to wait impatiently. "You didn't actually need to beat me to earn the token."

I recall everything he said when explaining the game, and sure enough, he said nothing about beating him to earn the token. "Then what exactly must I do?”

"You just needed three points." He slips three daggers back into his belt and hides the others in the small chest. "But it was sure great to see how proficient you are at throwing. It isn't just luck."

I want to kick myself for not learning precisely how to earn a token before we started. What a stupid mistake. Someone with accuracy like mine can also be seen as a threat, and I’ve given my skill away for no reason.

"I used to play this game as a child," I admit. It’s the truth, though a basic version of it. As much as I hate revealing anything personal, not doing so is only likely to draw more suspicion than I already have. "And I don't like to lose."

"Noted," he says. "Throwing knives isn't a common game for noble women."

I bring my finger to my lips. "Shh."

"It'll be our secret." He winks and pulls a red token out of a slip in his belt and tosses it to me. "Tell Nevan Phelps likes you."

Nerves pulse through me as I make my way to the archway, tokens clung tightly in my sweaty hand.

I don't know why I'm so nervous. I spoke to the prince the other night, and the whole point of playing all of the silly games was to have another chance, one that I’m prepared for.

Still, I can't calm my heart as it flutters like a drunk butterfly.

The man outside the archway counts the tokens I hand him, then he lets me through without a word. A short hallway leads to an open wooden door, which I hesitate outside of.

I calm my nerves as best I can and step into a dimly lit room. It isn't as large as the main room and is much less crowded, but there are already at least thirty guests here. A pleasant smell of mulberry and cinnamon wafts through the space, and I wonder what its source might be.

Have all these people really earned all four tokens before me?

I only recognize a couple from the other room. Two people are passed out on a couch to the right, and three men sit around a small table drinking jugs of dark, bubbly liquor. A few women stand in a half circle, eyeing the dance floor with glasses of white wine in their hands.

Blaise leans against a wall near the entry, and with a grin, tips his glass of deep purple liquid toward me then brings it to his mouth.

Part of me wants to pretend I don't notice him. I’ve already managed to make him think I'm after the prince's heart, a repulsive thought, but perhaps one that would make the best ruse. The idea that I might be seen as some swooning noble woman makes me queasy, but if it gets me close to the prince, I can handle the unpleasantness of the thought.

But I don't know anyone else, and damn my curiosity, I have to know how he beat me to this room. I stroll to him casually, arms loose at my sides. "Fancy meeting you here."

"I wondered if you'd find a way to earn the tokens.” He extends the glass of wine in his hand and tips it toward me. "Impressive."

"You make it sound difficult, and yet you're here." I lift an eyebrow with a small grin.

"Ouch." He brings a hand to his heart, but his smirk lets me know he isn't actually offended. "I might have forgotten to mention that not everyone needed to earn four tokens tonight to get through the archway."

"I'm sorry, what?"

Blaise shows a black token three times the size of the four I have collected. "One of these gets you in here, too."

It all makes so much more sense now. The prince hasn’t been sitting back here, alone, this entire time. He's had plenty of chosen guests to mingle with.

Blaise returns the token to his jacket pocket. "Everyone is given a black token after they’ve earned their way to this party at a previous Solstice."

"Even you?"

"Last summer," he says. "I failed the Winter before and almost didn't try again. But my pride convinced me to give it another go.”

I scan the room casually, as I still haven't seen the prince.

Sensing my shift in focus, Blaise guides his glass of wine. "He's in the back corner."

I don't bother pretending I’m not looking for Nevan. "It would be rude not to thank our kind host."

"An unforgivable crime, no doubt."

Trying to deny that I have other motives would be a waste of my breath, but Blaise seems humored enough not to press, so I don't divulge anything else before leaving toward the back of the room.

I find Prince Nevan leaning back in the center of a chaise, one leg crossed over the other, next to a woman in a long, silver dress. The woman grazes his shoulder with her hand then, with a giggle, slides her fingers down his bicep.

The prince doesn't smile as her touch works its way back up his arm and around to his chest. If anything, he appears tense.

When he notices me, he straightens.

"Thank you..." He hesitates as if unsure of the woman’s name. She says something I can't hear, and he scoots away from her. "Enjoy the party."

With that, the woman glares at me as she stands and then she stomps away.

A few people in the area stop their conversations, their gazes settling on me.

I'm a new face in a sea of nobility, and while I usually thrive at putting on a facade to fit whatever crowd I'm in, at the sudden attention I fight the urge to flee the room. I wipe my clammy hands on my dress and remind myself of the game of cat and mouse I’ve come to play with the man who killed my best friend.

Prince Nevan leans forward, a seductive smile spreading across his face. "Well, hello, Zariah ."

I push aside the fear swirling inside and match the prince’s sultry grin with one of my own. “Hello, Prince.”

The prince has remembered my name, which both impresses and terrifies me. Our quick encounter the night before must have left an impression, which was exactly what I’d hoped.

And yet, I can’t push away the unease that my face was seen by the servant the day before.

"Please, call me Nevan.” He pats the empty seat next to him where the woman had been vying for his attention. "I see you earned all four tokens. Impressive. Most fail on their first try."

"I'm not like most," I practically purr as I fall into character.

"No, it seems that you aren’t.” He taps the empty spot once more. "I don't bite."

His brow furrows briefly, but his face quickly returns to its cocky expression.

"I'm fine standing, thank you," I say, knowing that he does, in fact, bite, but it isn't fear that keeps me from sitting. I’ve learned from my ten years in the resistance that the easiest way to keep someone's interest is to act like you don't want it.

He shakes his head, laughs, then stands. "It's easier to converse when we're at the same level."

"We aren't really at the same level here, either," I point out. I’m on the taller end of women, but he still towers over me by at least a foot.

He bends his knees far enough that his nose is in line with mine. "Would you prefer I stand like this?"

His breath warms my face.

"As comfortable as that looks, it isn't necessary."

"You prefer tall men?"

"I prefer men who don't pretend to be anything other than themselves."

His mouth curls into a smirk, and then he rises back to his full height.

"Well, now that that's settled, I can give you your prize." He raises his hand and calls over one of the servants attending the revel. "Miss Zariah earned her four tokens tonight. Please grab her her prize. And one for me as well."

The servant nods and hurries away to fulfill the request.

"Must be nice to have people constantly around to do your bidding," I remark, sliding a strand of my hair out of my face.

"It's a privilege, yes.”

"I'm sure she'd rather be in bed sleeping."

Goddess above, I'm supposed to be getting him to like me, not pushing him away with my attitude. But being surrounded by such opulence after I’ve seen so much misery in the kingdom makes it impossible to push my annoyance away completely.

"I make sure only to use those who volunteer for my revels, and then I make sure they're well rewarded for their time.”

The servant soon returns with two vials of dark purple liquid and hands them to the prince, who thanks her before she leaves us alone.

Nevan hands one vial to me and pops off the cork lid on the other.

"Everyone who earns their four tokens is given a shot to celebrate." He slips a black token like the one Blaise has out of his pants pocket and gives it to me. “And one of these to use next year.”

I slide the token into the bodice of my dress, the neckline tight enough to hold it in place, and then I inspect the vial cautiously. "How do I know you aren't trying to poison me?"

"Quite the skeptical one, aren't you?" He raises his own vial to his mouth and takes a sip. "It isn't poison, but if you're too afraid..."

I grit my teeth and glare at him. Drinking unknown liquids is never a good practice, but I need to gain the prince’s trust and interest if I have any hope of learning what happened to Aella. My remaining week here will pass quickly, making time of the essence.

Before I can change my mind, I uncork the vial and gulp its contents. As soon as the liquid touches my tongue, I recognize the flavor.

The familiar mild taste of berries with hints of rose and citrus floods my senses. "Fae brandy.”

"You've had it?" Nevan tosses his empty vial onto a nearby chaise.

"Once," I reply, feeling a familiar tingle as the fae brandy surges through my veins.

It's the most expensive liquor in Valazica, imported from the fae kingdom of Solendale, and it affects both humans and fae differently, inducing a heavy buzz even with small amounts.

A vial full will affect someone for a couple of hours, coming on hard and fast and then, eventually, leaving the same way.

There’s no turning back now.

My vision flickers, the liquor already hitting my bloodstream. A tingle skitters through me, from my fingertips to my toes, and all of my muscles loosen.

“What do you say, want to get out of here?" Nevan suggests, his hand extended to me.

I place my hand in his, my fingertips buzzing at the touch. "Where to, Prince?"