Snow Like Ashes(40)

Couples spin past us to fast-paced orchestral music. Their laughter falls into the background of Noam’s sudden glare, still disguised by his pleasantly calm aura.

“You need me,” he hisses. “Winter needs me. You will begin proper training to instruct you in the ways of etiquette and Cordellan history. I advise you to not refuse this training and to obey me in all things.”

A tremor runs up my arm. In that moment as he feeds on my fear and revels in power, I see Herod, hissing threats like he was a cat and I was a bird with my wings trapped in his claws.

I yank my arm out of Noam’s grip. “Is that what your wife did? She disobeyed you?” I spit, throwing the accusation out like a chakram into a dark room.

As his face collapses, some of my dislike of him unravels. It’s the last thing he ever expected to hear from me, from anyone, and it shakes him off whatever pedestal he keeps himself on.

“What—” Noam’s mouth falls open. Closes. Opens again, and when it does, his shock shifts away in favor of anger and he grabs my wrist in a threat.

I dig my nails into his skin. “You may have me trapped in this.” I tug him off me. “But you aren’t the first man to underestimate me, so may I advise you to start treating me with a little more respect, King Noam.”

Before he can respond, I spin around and dive into the rows of dancers, darting back and forth between them until I reach the center of the moving bodies and swooshing fabric. Colors swirl around me—glistening gold, dark green, blue taken straight from the deepest part of the Destas Sea. The colors and music combine to create a strange lull in the chaos, a weirdly peaceful hub in the center of the ballroom, surrounded by music and the rotating circles of people. It almost relaxes me.

Almost.

I cup my hands over my face and exhale, inhale, exhale again. Just keep breathing. No matter what happens, no matter who turns on me, no matter what pompous swine thinks he has power over me, I am still me. I will always be me.

Who is that, though? Apparently it’s this girl in the ruby gown and smudged face powder, getting examined by Cordell’s upper class. Someone who can treat the king of Cordell with as much revulsion as he treats me. A lady. That can’t be right.

It’s definitely not someone important to Mather or Sir. Definitely not someone who will have any standing in the new Winter, no matter what Noam thinks. Just someone who gets bounced around in whatever position needs to be filled, used and used like a candle on a moonless night until I burn away into a puddle of compliance and obedience.

I wanted to be a soldier. Someone who would earn standing in Winter. Someone Sir would look at with pride. Someone Mather would look at and—

No.

This is who Sir wants me to be. He’s made it startlingly clear that if he had his way—and look, he’s finally having his way—I’d never be a soldier. And Mather can just jump off Bithai’s four-story palace and land on a golden tree.

A hand cups my elbow and I jump back when I look into Mather’s eyes. He scoops me into his arms, arranging us into a proper dancing pose as if he can sense how dangerously close I am to hitting him. “I just want to talk,” he pleads as we move through the sea of bodies to the music.

“Well, I don’t,” I retort, and pull out of his arms. People eye us as they swirl past, but I refuse to start dancing with Mather again despite the way he holds his arms out, empty after I left them, his face pinched and his eyes glassy.

He brushes the emotion off his face, one solid sweep of nothing. Hiding it, pushing it away, pretending it doesn’t mean anything to him when it should mean everything.

I shake my head. I will not cry. I will not show emotion either. “I thought you said you knew,” I start, the words grating against my throat. “That you knew how it felt, to be deemed worthless for reasons beyond your control. Yet here I am, a pawn in a marriage arrangement, because you and Sir deemed me worthless for anything else. Thank you, Mather. Thank you for finally showing me my place.”

Mather gasps, runs a hand through the strands of hair that have fallen free of the ribbon holding the rest back. He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything. Either he can’t, or he just doesn’t, and the tears threatening to spill out of my eyes finally do. I wipe at them furiously and just as I start to slide into the crowd, Theron appears.

He looks as bedraggled as I feel, only he’s spent the last few minutes dancing as well as being his father’s plaything. His eyes shoot to Mather before he looks back at me and lifts an eyebrow.

I stop myself from looking at Mather. This is my place now. This is where I belong.

“I’m sorry,” I tell Theron. The loud music drowns out my voice, making it look like I’m just mouthing the words into the air.