Noa felt as if she’d swallowed ice. She numbly followed the servant to a seat at the opposite end of the table. Mite sat next to her, and beside Mite was General Lydio’s son, who had the general’s sharp nose and blondish hair. He was probably about Noa’s age. Mite took one look at him and edged her chair closer to Noa’s, as if he were contagious with something.
Noa helped herself to lemon shrimp—usually her favorite—without actually seeing it. She wasn’t even sitting with the other councillors—she was sitting with the children. Across from her was Asha’s granddaughter, as well as two more girls she didn’t recognize who must be part of General Lydio’s entourage. Their father sat next to Noa, and he kept leaning over her plate to talk to them as if Noa weren’t there.
Her heart thudded in her ears. It was as if she had never been made a royal councillor. Had that even been real, or had Julian only done it to make her happy? She remembered the condescending looks many of the other councillors had given her. They had thought Julian was humoring her, his silly little sister. And now it looked like they were right. Noa sawed her shrimp into bits with trembling hands. Part of her knew it didn’t make sense to get this angry over where she sat at dinner. But being angry about that made her remember that she was angry at Julian about other things, and those thoughts kept going round and round in her mind, and got louder when the man beside her leaned so far across her plate that his beard trailed in her tomatoes.
There was a clamor outside the banquet hall. Two guards entered, each gripping a man roughly by the shoulder. The men were both young, Julian’s age or less, and wore General Lydio’s colors.
“We caught them trying to break into your tower, Your Highness,” one of the guards said.
General Lydio’s face was pale. “Your Highness, I’ve never seen those men before.”
Julian gave him a cool look, then turned to the men. “You resupplied at Hedea, didn’t you? Is it possible you gained two stowaways there?”
General Lydio looked more embarrassed than frightened. Noa didn’t think he was lying—if he was, he was a very good actor. “It’s possible.”
“Xavier’s guessed you planned to join me, then.” Julian’s fingers tapped a slow rhythm against the table. In the silence of the full banquet hall, beneath the rapt attention of the guests, it seemed unnaturally loud. He addressed the men in a pleasant voice. “And how much did Xavier pay you to spy on me?”
The man on the left said nothing. He was shaking, with a sheen of sweat on his brow. But the other man, wild-eyed, took a half step forward before he was stopped by the guard. “I would have done it for free,” he said with a laugh that went on for too long. “Monster. I’d rather die than see someone like you on the throne of Florean.” And then he began to shout something in Spark, and Noa realized, too late, that the guards should have gagged the men before bringing them before Julian. The guard realized his mistake and reached for the man’s mouth, while several guests shrieked and Julian’s mages shoved their chairs back.
But Julian barely moved. Before any of his mages could cast a single spell, he flicked his fingers at the man and murmured something inaudible over the din. The man stumbled back, collapsing against the guard again.
His mouth was gone.
Noa’s stomach lurched. “That’s better,” Julian said. After the eruption of sound, the banquet hall had fallen silent, eerily so.
“No,” the other man murmured as he stared at his companion in horror. “No, no, please no—”
Julian wasn’t even looking at him. He murmured again, and made another airy flicking motion, and the other man’s mouth vanished, too. “What do you think?” he said to Renne, as if asking his opinion on the food.
Renne looked as ill as Noa felt. “Have them taken to the dungeon, of course.” He glanced at the men, who were making horrible muffled sounds. “There was no need to—to do that. Taking their voices would have been enough.”
“That’s not very imaginative, is it? We do have guests to impress.” Several of the mages tittered. Julian leaned back in his chair, smiling at the men. His eyes had a cold glitter. “So you came here to spy on me, did you? Well . . . carry on.”
He spoke a complicated series of words that sparked like flames and hummed like summer bees. It was more than one incantation, woven together in a strange pattern. The two men began to glow and shrink. They grew so bright that it was impossible to look directly at them, then slowly they rose into the air. Noa had to look away, her eyes watering. When her vision cleared, she choked on a cry.
Suspended from the ceiling were a number of lanterns that cast a cheery, wavering light over the banquet. Two of those lanterns now glowed unnaturally bright, and within them you could just make out the outlines of small, glowing faces, their eyes wide with horror as they pressed their mouthless jaws against the glass.
Noa felt as if she were back in the storm, driftwood tossed about by the currents. Mite started to follow her gaze, but Noa distracted her by spilling her drink. Mite had to move quickly to avoid getting the beetles wet.
Julian thanked the guards with one of his charming smiles, then went back to his conversation with General Lydio and his wife. Slowly, people began talking again, though their voices were hushed at first. General Lydio sat with his mouth in a line. He didn’t look happy,
