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My heart raced as we sped through the palace. I earned many looks of interest, hinting that the fae we passed might have heard about me. Sayyida garnered even more glances of interest, and one male actually dropped the loaf of bread he carried and fell into a deep bow, proclaiming the Lady Virtoris to be ‘lovelier than ever’.
Sayyida thanked the fae, calling him Jarl Salizier. When we got out of earshot, she rolled her eyes. “He tried to court me last year, and thank the Fates, I scared him off with a few particularly bawdy sea shanties. If he thinks a dress means I’ve gone soft, he has another think coming.”
I mulled that over for a moment. “Is it common for great families on this side of the kingdom to marry into smaller lord or ladyships?”
Sayyida shrugged. “It’s done. Particularly if the lower house is very wealthy or has a lot of land.”
Reaching the end of a hallway, she opened a door, and a brisk wind slapped us all in the face. Behind me, Clemencia let out a gasp.
The day felt clearer and colder than the day we’d arrived. With the abrasive wind, I flinched, but the moment the gale died down, I smiled. Cold and sunny was perfect.
Sayyida led us onto a curved path. Other fae walked in front of us, each dressed for the weather and looking excited. After about five minutes, we reached a tall circular building made of stone, and Sayyida veered off the common path.
“We’ll go this way,” Sayyida said. “To the private boxes.”
Relieved that she’d found me, I followed as she waved to a palace guard dressed in a royal blue uniform and a gold cloak. The guard opened a door and ushered us in without so much as blinking. Only up close did I notice the white claw on his breast. That symbol identified him as a Clawsguard soldier, one dedicated to the royal house. We would be near the royal family then.
“The steps are narrow. Watch yourself,” Sayyida said as we climbed.
When we reached the floor her box was on, she passed one door before stopping at the one in the middle. A serpent riding an enormous wave had been carved into the wood.
She gestured down the steps we’d just climbed. “Usually, you’d be in the Warden Roar’s box, but as he’s in the tourney, it might be best that you stay with me. Unless you don’t want to?”
“I want to stay with you,” I blurted and immediately felt a little clingy.
The high lady didn’t seem to mind, though. She pushed open the door. “Perfect. Allow me to invite you to the Virtoris’s box at the Aaberg Ring.”
We stepped inside a box that could easily fit ten fae. Gray-blue velvet, the color of House Virtoris, covered the seats made of dark wood and polished to a high shine.
Below, to the sides, and above us, crowds of fae watched as archery contestants practiced in the ring, but in our box, we stood separated from the masses. Mostly, anyway. Other elaborate boxes surrounded us, above and below. I peered up and saw people I did not recognize. They were all dressed well, although their boxes seemed to be standardized with royal blue covered seats.
“The most important jarls are just above,” Sayyida explained. “To each of our sides are for the Sacred Eight; the boxes for House Qiren and House Riis.”
I glanced left, then right, recognizing the banners I’d been quizzed on during the journey. Qiren’s banner had a burnt orange fox in a field of white. The seats glowed burnt orange as well. While the Riis banner showed a black spiderweb on a field of red to match the red seats. So lesser houses did not get to show their colors in the Ring, only the Sacred Eight.
As for fae, the Qiren box sat empty, but the Riis box held a lone person. His long, dark red hair flew in the wind, reminding me a bit of Roar, though this male was far tanner and larger. He might have even been larger than the lumberjack, Frode, who was still the largest faerie I’d seen. I was still taking in the mountain of a fae, when he turned.
I sucked in a breath. His deep brown eyes penetrated me in a way that made me shiver. Like I knew him or something. Then he lifted his hand and pressed his hand to his heart. I didn’t know what that meant, but I waved back and, unable to take his intensity any longer, looked downward.
“I noticed many events on the letter I received. Which is your favorite?” I asked as we took our seats, and I searched for Roar in the crowd of archers warming up.
“Sword fighting. Though I like jousts too.” Sayyida turned to me. “Warden Roar famously favors the bow. Have you seen him shoot?”
“I have.” I recalled how cleanly he’d shot the orc that tried to steal me away. “Is that the royal box?” I gestured down, trying to keep the subject off Roar and me. The fewer lies I told, the better.
“The one with the white bear banner is. The Aaberg’s box is closest to the action, alongside the queen’s family, House Vagle. As the Aabergs and Vagles both hold seats in the midlands, they’ve always been quite close.” Sayyida wrinkled her nose. “It’s an honor to be closer to the ring, but I prefer it up here, less stink of innards that spill during swordplay.”
My stomach rolled, and I pointed to the line of four boxes between our level and that of the royals and House Vagle. “That must be the level that the wardens are on?”
Though I asked, I already knew. Since Warden Roar wasn’t present, no one was in his box, but his banner featuring a golden snow leopard on a red field flew in the wind. As I studied the other boxes, I also found Baenna and Eireann Balik, whom I’d met last night, with their family, and the red-haired Marit Armenil in the box dedicated to the great house of the North.
“Exactly.” Sayyida nodded in response to my question. “Officially, all the Sacred Eight are equal, and the crown rules us all, but . . . ” She gestured downward, to the level of the wardens and their proximity to the royals. “As you can see, there’s an unspoken hierarchy. Or at the very least, favoritism.”
I mulled that over. The Virtoris family seemed very important to the crown. From everything Clemencia had told me, they provided ships for trade, and if a sea battle befell the kingdom, House Virtoris would command the first wave of the armada. Then again, Roar had the largest army after the crown, and he didn’t feel close to the king. I pondered that as I studied the other boxes below and caught when Princess Saga pulled a book from a pocket inside her cloak.
My eyebrows knitted together. “Is she journaling?”
Sayyida looked up from her dress, which she fidgeted with, and laughed. “Saga? She’s always writing in one of her journals.”
