The Cursed Heir

Chapter Twenty-Four

The noise was deafening. Chatter, directions being yelled, discordant songs—none was comprehensible, all jumbled together in one raucous cacophony that Cassie had been able to hear from outside the stone walls of the court. Somehow the halls themselves were more disordered, courtiers and servants milling past aimlessly, either unsure of where to go or simply wasting time until the ceremony was due to start.

As Cassie had never been to court, she could only hope that the majority of the crowd did know where to go, and she would simply be able to follow when it was time. She and her father had parted ways at the entry gate, and she had not been willing to beg him for directions first.

She felt naked without her knife. Unsure of what to expect, she had let her father dictate her dress, and he had flat-out refused she attend armed. She would be arrested on the spot, personal invitation from the princess or not. He did seem to have chosen well, she had to begrudgingly admit. Her brocaded gown and smattering of jewels did not stand out as either too ostentatious or too plain.

If anyone looked at her at all, there was some staring and side-stepping, but she told herself it was more about her hair than them knowing of her curse. For the first time, she had had someone to style it with its newly short length, and Perin had had fun with the challenge. She had woven tiny gold adornments into the locks, and swept the wild curls onto one side of Cassie's head in a roughly elegant way that almost looked fashionable. It was not much different from several hairstyles Cassie passed as she slowly wandered down a random hall—other than the color. There was no disguising that, and Cassie had given up trying.

Someone going the opposite direction stepped in front of her, making her halt. Plain skirt, thick, durable fabric. Grass stains on the hem. Practical, expensive boots.

Cassie made to step around, but the other woman mirrored her, blocking her way again. Irritated, Cassie looked up, finding for once the other person was at eye level—and froze.

"Mama?"

Blue eyes she had almost forgotten warmed. "It is you," her mother said, barely audible over the din. "I couldn't believe my eyes."

Cassie reached out, as though expecting to pass her hand through a mirage—but it was the way her mother drew back infinitesimally, avoiding the contact, that convinced Cassie she was seeing the truth. Her mother was here.

Tears sprang to her eyes. Her mother had been at court, attending this spectacle, rather than at home, when Cassie needed someone. Needed a mother.

"What are you doing here?"

"Come," Lady Mackay said loudly. "I can hardly hear you."

Her steps brisk and sure, she led Cassie down several halls before pushing open a door wrought with tendrils of gold and silver in the style of tree branches. The sudden sunlight dazzled Cassie's eyes. As she blinked, trying to adjust, she found they were at the top of an amphitheater, its seats and steps cut into the rich loam. The trees of the forest came up to the very lip of it on the opposite side. On the court's side, the land had been cleared and courtiers were clustered around, impatient to get the best seats.

"I'm just stopping here on my way up to the Old Hills."

"...What are you doing going to Trenoriah?"

"There's another artifact, you won't believe how I heard of it in the first place. A few weeks ago I was in—"

Did her mother even know? Cassie could not be the one to break the news about Elisabet to her. She could not. "Mama, when were you last home?"