I shake my head, giving her a sad smile. “Go.”
I don’t dare say more than that, and neither does she, not even with the sound of Polly’s choked sobs drowning us out or Midas’s inattention.
Rissa gives me one more reluctant look before she turns away, steadying Polly at her side as they go. I let out a shaky breath, praying to the goddesses that she can make it out.
Please let her make it out.
I wish I could remember what I was supposed to tell her, but I lose my chance anyway when the door closes behind her. With a loosened breath, I rub at my temples, yet the music of the ballroom is so loud that it’s almost thick enough to taste the ballad on my tongue, to swallow the melody whole.
But even that doesn’t distract from this sense of dread wriggling in my gut. What else have I forgotten? What else has happened? There are gaping black holes in my mind that I desperately need filled in.
A bead of sweat drips down my neck. The salt trail slips down my back until it’s soaked up somewhere along the way, landing with a sting from a wound that shouldn’t be there.
My heart pounds in my chest.
Wrong. Something’s wrong.
A sense of deja vu crashes over me, because I’ve said that before.
More of my coherency starts to filter in drip by drip, like water drops from a cave’s roof, each one forming the stalactite of my memories. I rub at my temple again, chewing on another upbeat tempo that blares in my ears, only to realize that Midas is speaking to me.
“What?”
He gives me a careful look. I hadn’t even realized he’d come over to stand in front of me.
“It’s time for my announcement, and then I’ll need to make a demonstration. So I need you to pay attention.” He’s talking to me slowly, enunciating every word. “I need you to take off your glove and gold-touch the railing when I point to you. The sun is setting, so we don’t have much time. Alright?”
I stare at him.
I was leaving with Rissa. I’m at the ball. Someone gave me dew. My back hurts.
When I don’t say anything, Midas sighs. “When are you gold-touching the railing, Precious?” he presses.
“When you point.”
He gives me a tight smile. “That’s right. Don’t forget, okay?”
Forget… How much did I forget?
“Okay.”
After giving me another long look, Midas then makes his way over to the middle of the mezzanine’s curved balcony, a hand raised in a signal. Below, the musicians immediately cease playing, and the noise of the crowd dies down.
Blessed quiet.
“Welcome to our celebratory ball!” he announces, charm thick in his tone. His voice drawls, filtering in and out as my mind continues to drip. To collect. Dandelions and tumbleweeds and paper and stalactites…
Still keeping to the shadowed recesses, my eyes skim the crowd, stomach churning with every sweep as I search for answers, search for something, search for someone...
“The prosperity of Sixth Kingdom has bolstered Fifth, and it is my duty to ensure Orea’s northern kingdoms are strong and united.” Midas’s voice booms out, echoes, spins around. He presses a hand against his chest in a humbled gesture. “Even still, I have failed. By coming here to strengthen Fifth, Sixth Kingdom has suffered by my absence under the influence of the cold queen. Although the riots were a tragic, terrible thing, it was also good in a way.”
My eyes lift to the windows, to the dying light.
Something twinges in my back.
“It has brought about change,” Midas goes on. “I have heard the voices crying up from the people. That their labors deserve more from their monarchs, and I agree.” He lets that sink in, a lofty pride carried in the upturn of his chin. “The recent death of Queen Malina shows me that as a king, I must do more. That the people deserve a true queen who is beloved by them. That the kingdoms can be strengthened by unity.”
Murmuring spreads through the crowd.