A Dinner

A Dinner

Ingrid

After Amval proves that there’s no point in talking to him, no matter what kind of evidence I have, my life in Som Palace barely changes. No one else even knows he’s here.

Joli still hangs out with me when she can, but I realized a while ago that her smuggling business expands far past wartime needs. She’s often gone from the palace for days at a time—days her siblings only sometimes notice and always chalk up to “just missing her.” The more time I spend with them, the easier it gets to see why they don’t notice a murderer in their midst. They all still act like they’re in hiding, sharing one tiny room. There’s a whole palace to hide secrets in now, and only Joli and Kaloni seem to have realized that. Even Cirocco, who seems like he always has his head on a swivel, glances right over his siblings.

At night, when I can hear them laughing in nearby rooms, I sometimes wonder if Candace and the rest of them are right. I should just go home, leave them to their stupidity and their ignorance.

Shit, I wish I could.

Too stubborn, Father chides in my memory. Not that I ever really cared what he thought. Mother thought the same, though—she was just smart enough to use it rather than fight it. Now that she’s gone, it’s much easier to see that. How I got all the training I wanted for my music, endless time with my clothes—and a little bit less on the hobbies she didn’t approve of. Did I stop blacksmithing because I didn’t enjoy it or because there was always something more interesting to do at home when the smith was available?

I don’t know anymore. All I know is that, sure, sometimes I’m a little impulsive. But Amval is going to eat his words when I prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Kaloni is behind all of this. I don’t drop things that matter.

So, while Joli is gone, I spend most of my days following Corwyn. Now that I’ve spotted him, it’s so obvious that everybody else within these Goddessdamned walls should be embarrassed they haven’t noticed. He’s dressed like staff, but the most conversation I see him exchange with a staff member is when someone almost walks into him, and he snaps at her. He never looks over his shoulder. He never has anything in his hands. He’s just… always walking.

Usually from one of the remaining visiting nobles to another. A few times, I watch the nobles after he leaves them. Without fail, two of them meet up with each other within the next few hours.

He’s a courier. Messages too private to write down get passed through him. Maybe Redwood’s in on it. Maybe Lady Evangeline is just another of the many patsies in this scheme. Frankly, I don’t care.

Because sometimes, those nobles meet with Kaloni.

Every time, I try to listen, but something in those powers of hers must give her some kind of super-hearing. I can’t get close enough to make out more than a few words before her head goes up like a hunting dog, and she ends the meeting.

She hasn’t caught me yet, but I know it’s just a matter of time. She’s not stupid—she couldn’t have gotten this far if she were. So every hour I spend skulking around this palace, my mark throbbing, is another hour I’m wasting. I need to do something new—overhear one of Corwyn’s meetings, break into Kaloni’s rooms—but she always manages to keep me just on the outside.

I could use a second body. But it’s not like I’m going to tell Joli now.

So when I return to my room one day to find a formal letter, sealed with Lightning Cape-orange wax, I’m ready for anything.

Almost anything. The formal invitation to dinner with just Kaloni is a surprise—but I’m not going to miss out on any opportunity she gives me.

That night, I knock on the door to her quarters, wearing one of my more beautiful gowns. Most people would dress down for a private dinner like this. When she opens the door wearing not only a gown but her royal crown, I know I guessed right.

“Ingrid.” She smiles warmly. “You look wonderful.”

“So do you.” I brush a kiss over her cheek and float inside. She wanted me to look like a slob. Her mistake. “The green really brings out your eyes.”

“I’ve been told that.” She leads me to a table in her sitting room, already covered with platters of food. Judging by the small plates, though, this is just the first course.

I’m in for a long night.

“I’m a little curious why we’re doing this,” I say as I sit. My mark throbs as I smell something gingery, like that cake Amval loved.

As usual, I grit my teeth and ignore the feeling. I don’t miss him. He’s only someone I’m going to prove wrong now.

Kaloni laughs self-consciously. Did it always sound so fake? “Oh, you’re going to think it’s silly.”

“I promise I won’t.” Full slate of formal silverware on the table. Another trap. I read the books, but I only remember that the rules are different here than at home.

“Well, you were so lovely in the aftermath of the accident.” She shakes her head. “I’ve been too busy to repay that since taking the throne, so I thought you were owed an apology. In my opinion, this meal contains all the best Lightning Cape has to offer.”

“You’ll have to show me, then.” I force a smile. “Where should I start?”

Kaloni’s smile tightens slightly as she picks up the fork closest to her plate and spears what looks like a stuffed olive. “For me? Right here.”

While I take a bite, she fills my glass with blood-red wine. The food is amazing. Maybe good enough to hide poison. So before I sample every new dish, I wait for her to eat first.

“How has the throne been treating you?” I ask. “A lot seems to have changed pretty quickly.”

She blots her mouth with a napkin. “I’m sure it does seem like that. Amval and I—”

I nearly choke when she says his name. Pain rips down from my neck. I haven’t heard it since our fight.

“Are you all right?” Her eyebrows knit, worried.

“Spice caught in my throat.” I rub my chest, trying not to get sick. He won’t be what stops me now. This is all just a physical reaction.

Kaloni offers me a thick cheese on a cracker to calm the burning, then continues, “My brother and I spoke often about his plans for when he became Alpha. I’m just carrying out what he would have.”

“Really?” I ask.

She nods. “He hated that we lost that land to the rogues.”

Funny that he didn’t mention that when I asked him what he would do as Alpha. I take a bite of the cracker and swallow the burning urge to throw that in her face. But I was talking to a dead man.

“I’m sure he’s glad,” I say sourly.

“I can hope.” She kisses her fingers to the sky.

The courses pass like that. Kaloni says something that should be innocuous but doesn’t line up with what Amval claimed. I try to push her on it without revealing what I know. She dodges, asks about me. I say as little as I can while answering the questions. We talk about my siblings for a while, including their various kingdoms and relationships. Apparently, it’s not common knowledge that Kieran and Raven are going to rule Escuro and Dun’s Crossing jointly someday, but Estrella’s pregnancy very much is.

It’s like a game. Testing each other’s defenses, trying to learn what we can. From the outside, I bet this would look like a perfectly polite dinner. During the third course, I use the wrong fork, and she very sweetly corrects me while sliding in a comment about Mother that I frankly deserve some kind of medal for letting slide. I barely stop her before she feeds me a banana, which I’m deathly allergic to, as I told her and every other Som a few weeks ago, in a way that makes her seem like the bad guy.

I hate these fucking games.

Finally, without us ever diving deeper into a subject than the very top layer, the final course arrives. Flaky pastry layered thick with chocolate, cut into neat squares.

Kaloni offers me one. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“When you realized your mate was a crown prince, you must have thought that meant leadership. What would you do in my position?” Kaloni takes a bite of her pastry, forcing me to answer.

“I didn’t realize who he was until he was already dead.” I shrug.

“What an awful day.” Kaloni shudders and then pats my hand. “I’m sorry. I daydreamed about leading occasionally, even though I hoped I never would, so I thought there might be some scheme or plan you’d like to discuss.”

Oh, if Amval could hear her now.

He’d point to the obvious lie that she never hoped to lead and push the rest aside.

“I think there’s a difference between being second and being sixth—fifth,” I say. “I never thought about it, except to be glad it wasn’t going to come to me.”

“You don’t want to lead?”

I shake my head. “The only part that sounds worthwhile is the traveling.”

Kaloni nods slowly. “I take it that’s why you’ve been with us for so long?”

“That and the food.” I gesture at the spread. Everything was incredible, even the dessert. It only makes me hate her more.

“I think wanderlust may be a disease common to the last in line. Joli has it.”

I force myself not to react. She’s noticed Joli’s absences. Has she noticed my movements?

“Maybe,” I say through a mouthful of pastry.

“Do you think you’ll be moving on soon, then?” Kaloni spears me with a gaze over the top of her wine.

There it is. The end of the game. The point of this whole meal. I was right—the rest of the Som siblings aren’t in any danger, as long as they stay in line. Kaloni has what she wants. I’m the last loose end to tie up, as far as she’s concerned.

“Joli’s been having a hard time,” I say. “I thought I’d stay until she’s doing better.”

“She’s surrounded by family and friends here,” Kaloni says tightly. “I’ve been talking to her, and while she appreciates your concern, I’m not sure she needs you anymore. You’ve seen how often she travels, and you just… stay behind.”

Kaloni’s not stupid—but she’s used to dealing with her siblings, not someone raised by Rowena Solberg.

“I should have known I didn’t need to lie to you.” I look down, like I’m sad. “Your parents offered me hospitality. I’ve lost the least of you and your siblings, but I am grieving people here.” I peek up at her through my lashes. “If it’s an imposition—”

“Never.” She smiles tightly, chained by the laws of hospitality her far more generous and deserving parents invoked without thinking. To even suggest she doesn’t want me here anymore is an insult to the old ways, one she can’t risk.

“Thank you,” I say.

When I don’t get an effusive response or another glass of wine, just a few short words before our goodbye, I know I’m no longer somebody Kaloni thinks she might have to worry about.

I’m officially a danger to her. And I intend to stay that way.