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CHAPTER FOURTEEN; trust falls
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"NINA, DON'T LOOK BACK," Ace hissed through a smile, and the Heartrender snapped her head forward, and away from the direction where Inej had been taken.
Inej could take care of herself, but if the two of them began to gather unwanted attention then the suspicion toward the Wraith would be extended to them. They either trusted Inej could take care of herself, or all of them were at risk. They had to keep moving.
"She'll be fine," Nina muttered with a nod, seemingly trying to convince herself more than Ace.
They ducked through the hordes of partygoers and both of them dropped their cloaks in between the crowd, so as not to look too conspicuous. Their costumes would surely call the attention of people, Nina's specifically, but at least they didn't have capes trailing behind her.
The glass bridge rose before them in a gleaming arc, shimmering in the blue flames of the lanterns on its spires. All around them people laughed and clung to one another as they climbed higher above the ice moat, its surface shining below, a near-perfect mirror. The effect was disconcerting, dizzying; Ace's loose beaded slippers seemed to float in mid-air. The people beside her looked as if they were walking on nothing at all.
Ace was watching Nina in amusement as they crossed the bridge, the girl was clearly irritated at the fact the bridge was clearly Grisha-made, and the Fjerdans dared to treat them worse than cattle. At the highest point of the arch, Ace's attention strayed from Nina, and she got her first real view of the White Island and the inner ring. The island wasn't just protected by any wall—this wall was crafted in the shape of a giant ice dragon, circling the island and swallowing its own tail. Nina shivered beside her and Ace rolled her eyes. The Fjerdans were pretentious all right.
After the even dizzier descent on the bridge, Ace felt relief flooding her when her feet stepped onto solid white marble again. White cherry trees and silvery buttonwood hedges lined the marble walkway, and security on this side of the bridge seemed decidedly more relaxed.
The guards who stood at attention wore elaborate white uniforms accented with silver fur and less than intimidating silver lace. But Blondie had told them the deeper you got to the center of the Ice Court, the tighter security got—it just became less visible. They passed through an open stone court and the palace doors into a vaulted entry several stories high. The palace was made of the same clean, white, unadorned stone as the Ice Court walls and the whole place felt as if it had been hollowed out of a glacier—Ace never missed the sandy beaches of the Colonies more.
They entered a vast circular ballroom packed with people dancing and drinking beneath a glistening pack of wolves hewn from ice. There had to be at least thirty massive sculptures of running, leaping beasts, their flanks gleaming slickly in the silvery light, jaws open, their slowly melting muzzles dripping occasionally onto the crowd below. Music from an unseen orchestra was barely audible over the gabble of conversation.
