The Twelve Kingdoms by Jeffe Kennedy Page A

Dasnarian. Though I would no doubt hear it from her directly. Multiple times. “He is as nimble with an argument as he is with a blade.”
    â€œSurely he is no match for you, my father and King.”
    He snorted but looked pleased. Then his gaze sharpened, hardened with hot fury, flicking from the earrings to the necklace to the bracelet. “Where did you get those?”
    The accusation thudded into my gut and set my heart to racing. Forcing myself not to cringe away, I hardened my aching spine. “I’ve had them all along. It seemed appropriate to wear them tonight.”
    His face flushed scarlet, the metal of the wine goblet bending in the clutch of his fist. “They are witch’s jewels.”
    I scrambled for a reply. But a shout and a blast of music grabbed his attention. With a series of calls like animals and birds, a group of young men tumbled across the floor. They wore costumes made of silk scarves, some reminiscent of feathers, others scales—all vivid colors not of any nature I knew. Their somersaulting leaps resolved them into a line and they bowed to us, to Uorsin and me evenly, executing the maneuver with an unusual flourish.
    The youngest spun into a whirl and ended up directly before me. Beneath the table and before I’d known it, I’d drawn my dagger, the adrenaline shock ratcheting up the high alert triggered by angering my father. The lad, with hair so fair it gleamed nearly white, smiled angelically and presented me with a flower, one of Glorianna’s pink roses.
    I managed to take it, after sheathing the blade without anyone noticing.
    No one except for the Dasnarian captain.
    He said nothing, but he refilled my wine goblet, sliding it toward me. “A traditional gesture,” he said, as the young man impressively reversed the spin that had brought him to me. “Our acrobats study the art to improve flexibility and speed—not for assassination.”
    Beside me, Uorsin had sat back to observe the show, clapping his hands as if nothing had transpired between us. I knew the confrontation was only postponed, and possibly would be worse for it. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I should have known he’d hate the sight of Salena’s jewels. I had known it. That was why I’d kept them hidden away all these years. How had I lost sight of such basic common sense? I stared ahead blindly, trying to summon Danu’s centering mantra, struggling not to show how my breath wanted to shudder in and out of my strained lungs, how cold sweat dripped down my spine.
    The goblet nudged against my hand, which was curled around the posy, crushing the stem.
    â€œDrink, Your Highness. ’Tis but a fragile blossom that’s done you no harm. It was intended as a pleasure to you.”
    I stared at the Dasnarian, feeling somewhat wild, desperate to leave the table and my father’s presence, knowing I could not. Wishing that Amelia would appear to distract and appease him. Or that Andi would be on the other side of him, rolling her eyes. Captain Harlan returned my gaze steadily, calming somehow, something of sympathy in it. His eyes were not blue like those of the others, but a very light gray.
    Very nearly I told him to save his pity. But that would be admitting there was a reason to feel sorry for me. Instead I took the goblet and drank, fortifying myself for later.

    The feast lasted several hours, with course after course arriving once the acrobats finished. Madeline had outdone herself. I tasted none of it, using up every ounce of self-control to keep from crumbling. No matter how many years intervened, no matter how accustomed to command under dire circumstances I became, in the face of my father’s displeasure I somehow always reverted to my five-year-old self, as brittle as the fragile toy teacups.
    â€œAttend me, Daughter.” Uorsin delivered the command at last, heaving himself up from the table. Captain Harlan came to his feet with remarkable