Chapter 15: Lantern Night

On the thirty-eighth day the Emperor lit the lanterns.

There were a thousand of them, hung in the palace gardens on silk cords, paper moons in red and gold swaying over the snow.

Lysandra stood at the top of the terrace steps in a dress the color of dark wine.

Her husband's hand lay flat at the small of her back.

She could feel exactly where each of his fingers was.

"You're staring at the lanterns," Alaric murmured.

"I'm staring at the exits," she said.

"There are four."

"Five. You forgot the kitchen."

He made a sound that was almost a laugh.

Below them, the Court moved through the garden in jewel colors, and over it all hung the smell of roasted chestnuts and mulled wine.

She had counted the days at breakfast.

Fifty-nine left.

Sixty-four points, and thirty-six to go.

[Scripted scene today: The Slap. The Saintess provokes the Duchess before witnesses. Outcome: the Duchess strikes her.]

Anneliese found her at the edge of the dance floor, half an hour later.

She came alone in a gown of white silk with a wreath of winter jasmine in her hair.

The crowd opened around her without being asked.

She took Lysandra's hands in both her own.

"Duchess. I've been hoping for a word."

"Saintess," Lysandra said.

"Walk with me."

They walked to a gap between two lanterns, where the music was loud and the nearest guests were twenty paces off.

But Lysandra could see the Prince.

He was standing by the wine table, with his back to them, turning slowly in their direction.

She understood the arrangement exactly.

"I wanted to tell you," Anneliese said, very softly, "how sorry I am."

"For what?"

"That he only wants you now because you're useful."

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