Her Cinder Throne (Completed)

Chapter 44

When she returned, Dia was anxiously pacing near the kitchen door. As soon as she saw Cole, she launched toward her. "Have you seen Meegan?" she asked.

Cole frowned. "No. Why?"

"She's been missing since the midday, and the prince has been complaining that no one is taking care of him," Dia said, her voice laced with annoyance and overwhelm. "I can't believe she'd just disappear on a day like today! Doesn't she know the rest of us are busy with everything else? We can't help with the food and be at Prince Bastian's beck and call. She's so selfish."

Cole shrugged. "I'm sorry, I have no idea."

"Would you want to help the prince change into his ball regalia?" Dia asked, her eyebrows raising hopefully. "I'm supposed to be helping clear the dining hall, now that the guests are getting ready to move over to the ball."

"I can't," Cole said, thinking fast. "Mistress just asked me to help one of the ladies. She's one of the king's favorites. I can't ignore her."

Dia sighed in frustration. "Just perfect! Well, if you see Meegan, tell her that she's being an absolute monster and she needs to immediately come see me."

"Of course," Cole agreed, and then Dia pranced off to try and juggle Bastian and her other duties. But Cole had no intentions of finding Meegan or helping a fictitious lady with her ballgown. She had her own ballgown to make, and she needed to be out of the palace to do it.

When she was sure everyone was too busy with cleaning up from the grand feast that had taken place upstairs, she sneaked out the back door and ran to the bamboo grove. It was the place she was the safest from prying eyes, and she needed that cloaking as she closed her eyes and tried to fill herself up with the feeling of the magic. It swan through her blood and she imagined herself like the girls that would be competing for Bastian's attention. Beautiful and mysterious and nothing at all like the girl who had worked in the Sparkstone Mines for years.

The feeling of magic surrounded her and she felt that itch over her skin that she had felt when Tanwyn had changed her appearance in Avallen and when she had done it to sneak into the dungeons. It lasted a few moments and then she opened her eyes. Without a mirror, she had no proper idea of what she looked like, but she glanced down to see a massive gown made of silver sparkling stars and sprays of blue lace. Her skin was soft and clean, with no indication of a tough life or mining injuries. Across her bare shoulders she noticed long golden hair, curled and full of life. This startled her the most and she had to run her fingers through it. Her shaved head had been a necessity for so long that she had forgotten what soft hair felt like. She almost cried as she stared at the curls, remembering a time when her mother had brushed her hair and braided it for her on gentle nights when the family had still been together.

Now was not the time for remembering long ago dreams, however. She needed to get back into the palace and find her way to the ballroom. By now the party should have been starting, and she would hopefully blend in with the crowd until she could spot a moment to catch Bastian's attention without catching anyone else's.

Stashing the enchanted blade that Mistress had given her in the waistband of her gown, she clutched the envelope and turned to make her way to the front of the palace grounds. She had only to walk up casually to the doors and present her invitation, but it felt like an impossible task. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she took the fateful steps, and she was certain everyone nearby would hear the force of each breath that shakily choked its way out of her throat.

The guards at the front door of the palace looked up as she approached them. The small of the two raised his eyebrows and glanced around her.

"All by yourself, darling?" he asked, a crooked grin smearing itself across his face.

"My father is busy building an empire worth more than your entire family has ever made in their meager lives," she said, snapping her envelope as she shoved it in his face. "I don't need a guard dog to hover around me, unlike the girls you may be used to."

The guard snarled at her, snatching the envelope from her hand.

"Lady Myra?" he asked, the contempt in his voice obvious.

Cole didn't give him an answer, even though her heart was steadily jumping its way out of her throat. If he somehow knew it was a fake, that she hadn't been invited by the king, the whole plan would waste away before it could even be enacted. So instead she glared at him, hoping to make him uncomfortable enough to want her to leave as soon as possible.

The other guard leaned over to glance at the envelope. "It's valid. Just let her in," he said, the boredom obvious in his voice.

"Yeah, but she's got no father or guards or even lady's maids," the short guard hissed back, wrinkling his nose at Cole.

"It doesn't matter to us. If the king wants to give a poor girl a shot at the throne, it's not our place to judge that," the other guard said. He ripped the envelope from his comrade's hands and shoved it back at Cole. "Go in."

Cole tilted her head in the air, looking for all the world like a contemptuous young lady who had been highly offended. In reality, she was weak with relief that her plan hadn't been foiled before it began.

Inside, she followed the directions of the staff toward the grand ballroom. As she walked, she fought the urge to cover her face from the sight of the servants that she knew. If they recognized her, they'd surely give the alarm that something wasn't right. Yet, even though they stared her straight in the face, no one seemed to even have a glimmering of recognition. They simply glazed over her like they did to all the other glittering guests who milled their way to where the party was. 

The grand ballroom was cavernous, and hundreds of candles burned away to keep it lit enough to show all the beautiful faces gathered to try and capture Bastian's attention. Women of all ages and sizes lined the room with their jeweled dresses and curled hair. They danced with the fathers and brothers and cousins of the other women, but all their eyes inevitably drew toward where Bastian was stationed on a podium at one of the room, slouched in a pompous throne that overlooked all his father had laid out before him.

Cole hated to admit it, but he did look absolutely splendid in his finery. His tunic and boots were a deep black that seemed somehow even deeper than the night sky outside. He looked like a dream stealing in through the night, bright and full of promises of a better life. All the women wanted the power that being his wife would bring, for them and their countries. Marrying Bastian meant that you gained a stake in Soma, and a place of favor with King Thijs.

Cole bided her time in the back of the ballroom, watching as Bastian was introduced to the women the king had obviously marked as his favorite. Young and old, beautiful and plain, they approached him with flattering words and he, in turn, graced them with plastered smiles and cheerful joking. He slipped so easily back into the careless and flighty personality that he had faked for his survival. It made Cole angry to watch it, but she knew that she would soon have to be the target of it when she approached him.