“Súlka Bien.” Tomas held out a hand between us. “I hope you might do me the honor of sitting with me.”

“Afraid she’ll be considered an honored guest, ser.” Thane took hold of my arm, tugging me against his side. “She’ll be at the high table.”

“A dance, then,” Tomas said, the slightest snap of irritation in his tone.

“Perhaps,” I said in a rough breath as the prince bid a prompt farewell and spun us away.

When we were around the corner, I snorted a horrid-sounding laugh, stumbling against Thane’s side.

“Gods, Lyra.” Thane nudged my shoulder. “How do you manage to attract such odious company? Tomas Grisen is one of the haughtiest men in all of Myrda, according to Yrsa.”

“Aggravating men simply find me.” I nudged him back. “Some rescue me.”

“I shall take that as a compliment.” Prince Thane used his chin to direct me toward a winding staircase that would take us to his wing of the palace. “You have truly been summoned. Before the tedious chatter suffocates us at the feast, come have a bit of enjoyment.”

“What are you talking about?”

Thane winked and flung open the door to his chamber. I breathed a sigh of relief. Emi stood near the tall, arched window with the princess.

Here, I was simply Lyra. I did not need to be the melder.

“Lyra.” Emi waved. She kept the black fur cloak of a Stav Guard on her shoulders, but underneath was the fine blush-dyed dress she’d purchased at the silk merchant. Her lips had a touch of color on them, and she’d added gold bars through holes in each of her earlobes. “Come meet Yrsa before your time is stolen. Thane thinks you both will get on.”

“Of course they will.” The prince sauntered to a table with ewers and polished wooden drinking horns.

Yrsa’s brown skin had been painted in gold shimmers and her dress reminded me of the star plum skin—silver over sea blue with a cloak made of furs dyed to appear as honey over her narrow frame.

“Princess.” I bowed my head.

“Yrsa has shirked her ladies by lies and deceit all to debauch with us,” Thane said with a laugh.

Yrsa clasped her hands in front of her stomach and looked away shyly. “You know how fitful I find travel. My insides are not well at all. I suspect I have a bit more time before someone tries to enter the washroom to check on me.”

“And until then, we drink and laugh and avoid the masks we wear.” Prince Thane handed Yrsa a horn of pearly wine. “For you, my bride. Nightlark, what will you take? Lyra?”

I waved a hand. “None for me. Not sure I could stomach it tonight.”