Queen Of The Great Underworld

63

A bubbling fountain with a map of the Fallen Isles on the bottom, and dozens of small fish meant to signify the Upper Gods, who’d chosen not to descend to Noore.

A lightless chandelier constructed after the North Mine collapse, when thirty miners were killed in a cave-in.

And a statue of Bopha herself, her arms and hands and fingers stretching toward a window so narrow that it would admit the morning light only twice a year.

Finally, we reached a marble staircase in the center of the room. The steps spiraled up and up, with noorestones embedded in copper all along the inner handrail. Our shadows moved against the white walls, silent reminders of Bopha’s power here.

Music drifted through the building—the gentle one-two-three beat of a waltz caught and tangled on my counting. The only music in the Pit had been what I’d brought in my mind, Kumas’s sad attempts, and the horrible noise of Hurrok’s screaming every night.

This music—real music—drew me upstairs. My soul was starving for it.

On the landing, we turned one corner into a huge ballroom where a dozen musicians played on a tall stage that sat under a great, circular window in the back. I identified a flute, violin, and some kind of bass stringed instrument before Galadriel’s gasp drew my attention away.

“What a beautiful room!” Galadriel smiled widely. A real smile, even, not that manufactured expression she used on me.

“Thank you.” Dara was all smugness. It showed in the set of her shoulders, the purse of her mouth, and the way she eyed the room as though evaluating a prized stallion. “I’m so pleased you like it.”

It was an impressive space. She was right about that.

A hundred (easy to count because there were twenty groups of five) noorestones sat in mirrored sconces on the right side of the room, casting sharp illumination toward the left. And it could have been a trick of the light, or my eyes, but sometimes it appeared as though the shadows didn’t quite match the people they were attached to.

Women and men danced everywhere, glittering in the brilliant light. Many wore pale-colored suits or gowns, contrasting with dark skin. It was a theme, I supposed. Shadows and light. The two things Bophans worshiped.

Most people did not have the tattoos I’d seen on Dara, Chenda, and Hurrok, though some had painted sparkly cosmetics across their faces and necks and shoulders and arms. Even fingers shone, and not just with jewelry, though there was a lot of that as well. Rings, bracelets, necklaces, headbands: most were copper set with various gemstones, though I spotted silver and gold as well.

I found myself swaying along with the music; I could hardly remember the last time I’d danced.

“Please,” Dara said. “Let me introduce you to everyone. Or reintroduce you, as the case may be.”

“We’d appreciate that.” Galadriel glanced at me and mouthed, “Remember what we talked about.”

A warning. The same way Mother reminded me to stand up straight and pull back my shoulders and lift my chin. Like I could forget how to behave after a lifetime of her ungentle coaching.

Like I could forget to mind my tongue with enemies at my sides.

But I nodded just slightly. If I behaved, maybe she’d leave me alone with Jan for a few minutes.

He, like the other guards, had taken a place along the wall. The mask hid his expression, but when our eyes met, I sensed a smile beneath the off-white linen. My heart thumped in response. He’d come for me. My protector. My friend.

I tore my gaze away before Galadriel caught me, and I spent the next eternity moving from person to person. I smiled. I took hands in mine. I told strangers that I wished the best for them. I listened to subtle bragging. I gave vague answers to questions about what had happened with Kyhan at the docks, because Galadriel was there and I wasn’t certain what story she’d already spread beyond the basics.

At first, it was almost as though nothing had changed and this was still my life.

Then, dinner was announced, and everyone made space as nine round tables were brought in, followed by seven chairs per table. Before our eyes, the ballroom became a banquet hall as men and women covered the tables in silk and porcelain and glass. Small noorestone stands were placed in the center of each table, followed by nameplates in flowing script.

My place was toward the stage, with Galadriel and Dara, plus two men and two other women—one the second councilor who’d come to Bopha. She sat across from me, which meant she was in the perfect position to observe my movements.

“Hello, Mira,” said Councilor Bilyana. “It’s so nice to see you again.” Her look was all cool calculation. With the way they made me feel now, it was hard to believe I’d ever trusted the Luminary Council.

Dara sat to my left. A woman named Sothy to my right. She introduced herself as the owner of seventeen noorestone mines.

“Bopha has the largest mines in the Fallen Isles,” she said. “It is a gift from our goddess, so that it’s never truly dark. The Shadow Goddess has been good to me. I was able to provide all the stones you see here.” She reached forward to touch the stand in the center of the table. It was shaped like a tree and had tiny noorestones hanging like leaves.

“They’re beautiful,” I said, trying not to think about the interrogation room. There was so much more to them than simple light. That moment Aaru’s pain became unbearable and everything went black would haunt me forever. “I heard a rumor that some people can hear noorestones. Do you know anything about that?”

She shook her head. “Noorestones are part of the world. Occasionally, miners claim they can hear a very low, deep humming, but that seems like a rather fanciful notion. Still, often the places they point out do have large pockets. There are so many in Bopha, though, it could be luck.” Her expression darkened, as though she’d just realized something.