Court of Shadows by Madeleine Roux

Author:Madeleine Roux
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2018-05-04T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

I had not expected an ordinary tent, but this was altogether astonishing. It felt as if I had stepped into a fairy glade, dark and cool, tiny twinkling lights of every color dancing on the air above us. They were connected to nothing, freely lending their blue or rose or yellow glow before skipping off to light another corner of the pavilion. Even the boundaries of the place were hard to describe, as there seemed to be no walls or ceiling, just a shroud of black mist encasing us in air that smelled as sweet and honeyed as an apiary.

When I had rebounded from the shock, I gazed around in wonder at the volume of attendees. Where had they all come from? The pavilion was bustling with activity, men and women, young and old, some in long black cloaks and others in shimmering gowns of ivory. To my left was a long wooden table with plenty of goblets and decanters, though food looked scarce. A banner hung over that table with a large embroidered version of the pin I wore for safe passage. But the banner did not have the I AM WRATH script across it, just the serpents. Those who hovered around that table wore the black cloaks; those in white clung to a table at the far end of the tent, near a raised dais. That table had a banner on it with a simple coat of arms, four quadrants, two with wings and two with sheep. To my right stood a third table, but it was completely empty. Nobody lingered near it. A banner hung above that table, but it was simply black and tattered, as if long forgotten.

Our entrance did not put an end to the din of conversation, and I glanced around sheepishly for any familiar faces. At last I spied Chijioke in a sea of black cloaks. His garb was far more brilliant—a scarlet coat, wide in the shoulders, with billowing sleeves and a diamond pattern down the front. He wore a small round hat, too, and his eyes glowed like red coals, as brightly as they had when I watched him doing his ferrying ceremony in Derridon.

I hurried over to him, amazed at his appearance. When he caught sight of me, he looked equally stunned.

“Ah, lass, I was curious indeed to see what the Court would make of you,” he said with an inscrutable smile.

“Make of me?” I asked.

“You cannot hide what you are in here,” he said, gesturing to the room. “No magic, no incantation, no spell would be strong enough to mask your nature. That is why I appear as I do, and why you appear as you do.”

I felt a fool as I looked down at my own frock, gasping when I found my dowdy servant’s clothes and apron were gone, replaced by an evening gown of green silk with a pattern of tiny vines. A light-as-gauze fichu was tucked around the neck, replacing the plain, sturdy one that had been there before.

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