6.29 – A Disoriented Fox V


    Delta guessed she shouldn''t be surprised. It turned out that the room in the d''Celestin pce meant to hold unruly guests was well defended. There wasn''t a single way out she could find. Even the windows were reinforced to the point that she, a fourth advancement wayfarer, couldn''t break through them. And the only <em>real </em>escape—the front door—was watched over by an absurdly strong guard.


    So. Delta had to sit there, annoyed, until she was sent for.


    She didn''t have to wait long. Not more than twenty minutes after the incident with the guard, a polite knock came at the door. Delta briefly considered being petnt and not responding but decided that would be too childish. She didn''t want to seem like aplicit, happy prisoner, but there was an extent to how annoying she would be. Especially in the d''Celestin pce. Delta couldn''t help herself from stepping on toes and testing limits, but she had <em>some </em>level of self-moderation. Just less than most people''s.


    Swinging the door open, the same guard from before greeted her.


    "Honored guest. Pleasee with me."


    "To where?"


    "I''ve been instructed not to engage with you."


    "Seriously? Why the hell do you need to be so secretive about everything?"


    "I''m simply following orders."


    "Does Rosalie''s <em>daddy </em>want to talk with me?"


    All at once, the man seemed <em>immensely </em>ufortable. Delta assumed she''d gotten it right.


    Because that was the reasonable assumption. Lucinda had dragged the four of them back to Mantle upon Rosalie''s father''s instruction. Considering the brief imprisonment and how they''d been separated, Delta figured he wanted to speak to them. Perhaps he didn''t approve of Rosalie''s choice of teammates, or if nothing else, simply wanted to meet them.


    And who <em>was </em>her father, anyway? Delta already knew that he was a high-ranking officer of the Deepshunters guild—or had assumed it—but he might be even further up thedder than she thought. Maybe to the point she would recognize his name. Though she didn''t know much about the top-ranking Deepshunters, besides the ones <em>everyone </em>knew.


    "Please follow me, ma''am," the guard just repeated.


    Delta eyed him with annoyance. She obviously wasn''t going to get anything out of him. Eventually, she sighed and did as she was told.


    Winding through the hallways of the opulent pce, Delta had yet another opportunity to half admire, half be disgusted by the wealth on disy. The ancestral home of one of the world''s most prominent wayfaring families. It was really something.


    Seriously, why was she <em>here? </em>In the d''Celestin pce? Surely Rosalie''s family had their own estate. Perhaps not one in Mantle, and so instead, they were temporary guests of the d''Celestins? Or any of a hundred other reasons?


    Still, Delta found herself disquieted. The d''Celestins. She''d known she''d be mingling with high society thanks to having grouped with Rosalie, but this was something else.


    The guard led her through the halls to an enormous set of double doors, even more massive and ornate than everything prior. He took a deep breath and straightened himself out, as if bracing himself, before opening the doors. He ushered Delta in along with him.


    She walked in.


    Into …


    The throne room.


    Zoey was already there, having presumably just arrived herself—the two of them being sent for at the same time. She met Delta''s eyes, and instantly, a distressed expression crossed her face, which set Delta even further on edge.


    But her attention was only briefly on Zoey.


    Because there, on the tall white and blue throne, sat a man.


    He was in histe forties, wearing a short, neatly trimmed beard with speckles of gray. Pale ice-blue eyes watched Delta with a cool, regal impassivity. A crown sat atop his head: white and silver, in except for an engraving of a splintered circle. He lounged in a way that suggested long familiarity with the seat, and despite how rxed he seemed, he felt no less regal for hisck of posture. His cheek rested on one hand, idly, as he watched Delta walk in, escorted by her guard.


    A man sitting on the d''Celestin throne.


    Wearing one of the most legendary items known across the world: the Crown of Shattered Starlight.


    Holy shit.


    Delta guessed she''d been wrong.


    Rosalie''s dad hadn''t sent for her. The godsdamned Guildmaster of the Deepshunters, ruler of Mantle and nearly half the Fractures, had.


    Enzo d''Celestin himself wanted to speak to them.


    What the fuck?


    <em>Why?</em>


    Delta''s confidence went out the window. She''d been braced for a lot,ing to Mantle, but sure as hell not this. Bizarrely, it was even more overwhelming than meeting Ephy, an actual goddess. Because she knew this man. Knew the stories at least. She was meeting the most famous figure in the world. A living legend. Enzo d''Celestin could blow a hole through this entire pce with a single thrust of his spear. How did shee to terms with meeting that kind of person?


    A single thrust … of his … spear.


    Why were those blue eyes so familiar?


    Suddenly, Delta felt nauseous for a reason she couldn''t ce.


    Arriving at the foot of the throne to join Zoey, the guard escorting Delta bowed deeply at his waist. A dismissive flick of Enzo''s wrist had the man scurrying away. Delta now understood the guard''s difort. Who <em>wouldn''t </em>be nervous when dealing with orders from Enzo d''Celestin? An idiot. That was who.


    And seriously. Why was Zoey looking so distraught? It was putting Delta even further on edge.


    "She was going to tell you," Zoey murmured to her, reaching out to squeeze her arm. "But then Lucinda happened. Sorry."


    Tell her? Who? Rosalie?


    Rosalie was going to tell her what?


    The tall doors closed as the guard exited, leaving the three of them alone.


    "Good," Enzo said. "You''re both here. My daughter''s … teammates."


    His voice was everything Delta would have expected. Aloof. Enunciated. Somehow arrogant despite anything that should make it so. And slightly amused by what he had said—especially thest word, which hade slowly, as if he''d picked it with care. Teammates. As if the concept was ludicrous.


    His daughter''s teammates?


    Delta couldn''t give a shit about high society wayfaring. But she obviously knew <em>some </em>stuff about the d''Celestin family. Couldn''t avoid it, not with them being one of the eminent forces in the Fractures.


    What the hell did Enzo''s daughters have to do with <em>them</em>?


    What were their names?


    Charlotte? Elodie? And, obviously, the funny one. Rosalie, who <em>her </em>Rosalie was probably named after, since any royal''s name would explode in poprity in the years following their birth.


    Wait.


    Delta looked at Zoey, whose expression remained distressed. She squeezed Delta''s arm again.


    "She only told me yesterday," Zoey said.


    Delta looked back at the Guildmaster of the Deepshunters.


    His cool blue eyes—so familiar, cold and icy in a way she just couldn''t put a finger on—watched the interaction with slight bemusement. He obviously wasn''t someone used to being ignored, even briefly.


    Idly, a part of Delta wondered whether she should have bowed to this man when she''d entered.


    This man.


    This man with blue eyes who wielded a spear, who''d just called her and Zoey ''teammates of his daughter''.


    His daughter.


    Who was named Rosalie.


    It finally clicked.


    "Your daughter?" Delta asked numbly.


    She was vaguely aware of her tail swishing wildly behind her. She''d always been annoyed by how easily it could give away her thoughts.


    Enzo tilted his head. He straightened on his throne, amusement growing, seemingly suddenly more interested in their meeting.


    "She didn''t tell you? Ah. She has <em>some </em>sense left, then. I understand she found you three in Striders territory. You never know who holds their allegiances with … hm, <em>grave </em>consideration."


    "Fuck off," Delta found herself saying. It didn''t really feel like herself speaking. "You''re fucking with me." She looked at Zoey. "Is this a joke?"


    Zoey''s distraught expression at least made sense now. She shook her head, then squeezed her hand again. "She was going to tell you on the trip over."


    Delta''s nausea doubled. She''d never understood how some people could faint when hearing shocking news, but the ground felt abruptly unstable beneath her feet.


    It just wasn''t possible.


    Rosalie?


    The girl <em>she </em>knew?


    Was the heiress to half the goddamn Fractures?


    The daughter of the most powerful man in the world?


    And …


    Somehow worse than all that …


    She hadn''t even bothered to <em>tell </em>her?