Sterling

Chapter

One

Istared at the envelope in my hands, working up the courage to open it. The mahogany-paneled walls of Papa’s study seemed to close around me, making my chest tight and airless. The study, usually a refuge, seemed an ominous place this morning .

All because of the envelope.

I’d spent days without a word from Papa, living in a state of constant anxiety, waiting for news of the war. He’d said he meant to keep the combat short and sharp. He’d believed he could take Costas Galatien by surprise in Galantia and come to an almost bloodless victory by capturing the High City swiftly.

I’d hardly slept, knowing Papa’s life hung in the balance. He wasn’t the kind of man to sit at the sidelines of a battle. If he asked his men to fight, he would

fight

,

too

.

I’d already lost Mama and Stesi; I couldn’t lose Papa. He was the only one who

loved

me

.

Tremors shook my hands. What if the envelope contained news of his death?

A sharp rap came on the

study

door

.

Yes? I called, glad for the excuse to postpone opening the letter. Enter.

Galen, the head of our household guard, tall and dark with the cheekbones of one of my imaginary princes, carried a parcel. He gave a small bow. Lady Sterling. More post for you. This parcel came by special runner from Anatyr. My stomach dropped, but Galen jerked his chin at the envelope in my hands. I received a letter from Lord Ricknagel as well. Or should I say now, His Majesty Xander I Ricknagel.

"What? His Majesty? Papa? He

is

—

well

?"

"More than well, Lady Sterling. He has won. Costas Galatien has been defeated. Your father will

be

King

."

Galen dropped the parcel into my hands. It wasn’t very heavy.

Who sent this? I asked.

"No letter accompanied it. Your guess is as good as mine,

my

lady

."

I nodded. Very good. You may go, Galen. Though Galen’s news of Papa cheered me, I still wanted privacy to open the letter. I became terribly self-conscious around most men; they stared at

my

face

.

As soon as Galen clicked the door closed, I tore open Papa’s letter.

My darling Starry,

It is with great pleasure that I write to tell you that I have successfully captured our former King, Costas Galatien. Even better, Costas had a son with his secret bride, and as I write, that child, a possible future thorn in our side, has also been captured and is being sent to my care in Engashta.

I have vanquished Costas Galatien, who wronged our House so deeply. We have won, Starry. I have achieved what I always knew I was born to do: I have restored House Ricknagel to greatness and its proper position, first among the Ten Houses. I am finally the King I have trained to be my

entire

life

.

Of course Costas has confessed to nothing, but I have yet to set a mage upon him for truth-speaking. When I do, we shall see the depth of his perfidy. For the time being, I hold him prisoner, and I focus all my energies on securing Lethemia for a new age of rule by House Ricknagel—a more just and

secure

age

.

To that end, I am in the midst of negotiations with all the Ten Houses, who will accept me as High King of Lethemia in place of Galatien. I will be crowned in less than a sidereal’s time. This means, Starry, that as my only remaining offspring, you will be the heir not only to House Ricknagel, but also to the Crystal Throne. You are now the High Princess of the land. One day you will be Queen.

I require your presence. I have written to Galen to escort you to Engashta, where I hold my councils, as soon as possible.

I look forward to seeing

you

soon

.

Your father,

XHR

The letter fluttered from my hands to the floor like a dying butterfly. High Princess? Queen? Me? Gods above, I could hardly face the head of our household guard! I certainly could not face a council of the Ten Houses.

I collapsed on the divan beneath the windows, closing my eyes and letting a slant of light warm my skin, which had gone cold and clammy from Papa’s words.

I turned to the parcel Galen had given me and peeled away the wrappings.

He’d said it came from Anatyr, but I didn’t know anyone in Anatyr.

The wrappings revealed a small wooden box, nothing fancy. I lifted the lid. Nestled inside sat Papa’s Emerald Ophira.

Oh! I covered my mouth with

my

hand

.

At the start of the war, Papa had given the magical Ophira to his sister, Siomar, a magitrix. Aunt Siomar had set out with my handmaiden, Serafina, on a mission to destroy the naval fleets of our enemies.

The Emerald Ophira parcel did not contain a note, and by this I assumed that Serafina had sent it to me. Aunt Siomar would have written a letter. Serafina eschewed written words—because she could not be bothered or because she was illiterate, I could

not

say

.

I gripped the bright green magestone and rubbed it over my marred cheek. Warm curls of invisible heat seeped through my skin. The smooth curve of the stone felt as soft as satin. Only Serafina had known that I often used the stone to comfort myself. Her sending it to me seemed like a final act of friendship, a silent goodbye that made me wonder if I would ever see her again.

When I arrived in Engashta after several long days of carriage travel, I alighted in a performance worthy of my late sister, but inside, my stomach twisted in knots. I was not ready to be a princess.

I reached into my reticule, where I’d tucked the Emerald Ophira before departing Ricknagel Manor. I ought to have locked it in Papa’s study where it belonged. That is a powerful magestone, Sterling, not a plaything, I could hear

Papa

say

.

But the Ophira’s heat comforted me. I assumed that was part of its magic, though I’d been born without a trace of talent. When the Conservatoire mage had come to test me, I’d failed every task. Even so, holding the stone, someone with no talent at all could touch magic.

The Ophira gave me courage as I passed through the wrought iron gate of the Duke of Engashta’s four-story home, where Papa was in residence for his councils.

Engashta was a strategic city situated at the meeting points of three Lethemian provinces: Entila, Talata, and Shiree. The Duke had been one of our allies in the war. His house was as white and pristine as a lady’s porcelain tea-cup, gilded with intricate mouldings. It was tall and narrow, nothing like sprawling Ricknagel Manor, which covered nearly two square leagues.

Papa awaited me in a spare salon on the third floor of the Duke’s mansion. White walls, white drapes, and white velvet upholstery covered everything.

I felt nearly

as

wan

.

Sterling! Papa rose from behind a broad desk. "You

made

it

!"

I ran to him. Papa never minded my shows of affection; only my mother had scolded me if I touched her in public. Papa’s arms were wiry with muscle. He did not believe a leader could be anything but a great soldier, and he trained himself as ruthlessly as he did his men. In his embrace I felt safe. Oh, I loved him! And he loved me—despite my blemish, despite everything.

I trust you had a comfortable trip? he asked.

It was fine, Papa. I lowered my voice. Have you truly captured and defeated Costas Galatien? I hardly believed what he had written.

"Yes, Starry. I wouldn’t have let you travel otherwise. It is done. The Galatiens are vanquished. I shall be crowned King in Galantia in a fortnight. I sent for you because we are throwing

a

ball

."

A ball? Throwing a ball? So soon after the close of a war? I sat down on the white divan across from the desk. My expression must have been telling.

Papa laughed. Yes, can you believe it? Tirienne Talata demanded a ball as the price of her support. His voice changed. That and you, Starry.

How do you mean? I understood why he had to throw a ball, if Tirienne Talata demanded it. Aside from the Galatiens and the Ricknagels, the Talatas were the most powerful family of the Ten Houses, and their lands spanned a vital and strategic position. Without House Talata as our allies, destroying the Galatien hold on Lethemian power would have been impossible.

Papa sat beside me, loose in his posture, all out of character. Xander Ricknagel was a man raised in a military tradition, and he’d kept his back as rigid as a board for all the years I’d known him. This stranger curled into the sofa like a courtier. My calm, stoic father looked almost manic. His cheeks flushed, and he grabbed

my

hand

.

Starry, you must be brave about this. I could not have finished this war so quickly without House Talata’s support. They demanded that I wed you to their son, Erich, in exchange for their allegiance. You will marry him in Galantia after my coronation. This ball is to announce your betrothal.

I sat, stunned. I had never expected my father to sell me in marriage without consulting me. He had not done that to my sister. Stesi had told him she wanted no one less than High Prince Costas Galatien as her husband, and Papa had moved the Twelve Heavens to satisfy her. He’d promised Stesi she would not have to marry against her will, and I’d always assumed he meant that promise for

me

,

too

.

The air seemed to have left my lungs. "

But

Papa

!"

Fleeting distress crossed my father’s face. "It’s done, Sterling. I cannot change it. It was their price, and I

needed

them

."

Serafina had taught me how to compose myself, how to arrange my face so no one could read my emotions. I did so, sucking in my cheeks and pinching flesh between my back teeth.

Papa nodded at my expression. "Good girl. I knew I could count on you to be brave. The ball is all planned, but you’re to pick the theme. I believe the Duke’s housekeeper is waiting for word

from

you

."

Chapter

Two

As I hastened below stairs to find the Duke’s housekeeper, I raged internally at Papa for committing me to a marriage before I’d ever even met the man. I’d learned the hard way that a man’s willingness to marry me would change after he saw my face. Splotch-face , Lord Culan Entila had called me, just before he’d sworn he’d never

marry

me

.

I’d heard of Erich Talata—gods, who hadn’t? Whenever people spoke of him, they whispered something scandalous. He hadn’t attended Costas Galatien’s Marriage Brokering, but his absence had generated the usual whispers: too much of a rakehell to settle down, too perverse for a delicate daughter of the Ten Houses, too handsome for his

own

good

.

On the bright side, since Erich had not attended the Brokering, he had not seen me. He had no idea what I looked like—unless he had heard rumors. Perhaps I could salvage my dignity. I needed to prevent Erich Talata from seeing my face until the betrothal had been sealed in public. Then I would show him the travesty of my face. In private.

I could bear private shame; public would

devastate

me

.

The theme that I reported to the housekeeper, then, was masquerade, though I could almost hear the society ladies mocking me: It’s so she doesn’t have to show

her

face

.

This would be Papa’s first occasion as King of Lethemia. I had to make it a success, and that meant the betrothal must go through.

The morning of the ball Papa woke me early to steal a few precious moments before our many obligations

distracted

us

.

How are you, Starry? he asked as we entered the Duke’s morning room where a full breakfast spread awaited us. Papa held out a chair for me and rested both hands on my shoulders, squeezing. Ready for tonight?

Yes, Papa. Everything is arranged. I paused, wondering if he would be angry if I asked the questions that had been burning in my mind since I’d read his

letter

. "

Papa

—

"

Don’t worry about Erich. I intend to pull him aside and have words. If he doesn’t treat you well, he’ll have me to deal with. You tell me at the first insult, and I’ll mop that boy up with his own gold-dusted hair. You are the heir to the throne. You will be respected.

After Stesi’s disastrous marriage, Papa’s protectiveness was only to be expected. "No, Papa, that wasn’t what was on my mind. I was thinking, you said you had captured Costas Galatien and his son?" I’d been dying for a chance to see the Galatien baby. Whispers about Costas’s secret wife and even more secret offspring had flown across the country during the war. I had not believed the child—though I’d heard there were twins—actually existed. I was mad for babies, perhaps because I often despaired of ever having any of

my

own

.

Papa took a seat, pushing aside his plate of eggs and pulling on his eyebrows. I frowned; he’d lost weight, and his cheekbones stuck out more

than

ever

.

Apparently Costas did have some kind of secret marriage and the child was declared his heir. I had to take the babe along with the father, else Galatien supporters might rally around the child even after I dispose of Costas. He sighed. "And now I’ll have to dispose of the baby

as

well

."

Dispose of him? Horror laced my words. "The baby?

Costas’s

son

?"

He is a problem. I do not like it, but as long as he is alive, he is a threat to our power.

"Papa! How can you say such things? I want to

see

him

."

Don’t you have to prepare for the ball this evening?

"Oh, Papa, please let me see the baby. And really, couldn’t we keep him? If you raised him, he would grow up thinking of you as his Papa. He would be like a brother to me. He could

help

me

—

"

Starry, don’t be a ninny. Papa sighed. We cannot raise a rival to the Throne.

I crossed my arms. "What else can you do with him? You can’t kill him. He’s only

a

baby

!"

I don’t think my new bride will be willing to raise him in her household.

My heart froze all over again. "

Your

what

?"

Papa was back to pulling his eyebrows. You are not the only one asked to make sacrifices for our noble cause.

"Papa, say what

you

mean

!"

His hands came down and drummed a sharp staccato on the tabletop. How do you think we wrested the High City from Costas Galatien’s control so easily, Starry?

His question whiplashed me. I had been surprised to hear how quickly Galantia had fallen, but what did that have to do with whatever Papa meant about his new bride? "I surely

don’t

know

."

"We had inside help. One of Costas’s magitrixes turned.

For

us

."

Turned? As in betrayed her lienbound lord? Who? It wasn’t that awful one who served Stesi, was it? Sienna? I had loathed the handmaiden Stesi had been given after her marriage to Costas. I even suspected the magitrix—named Sienna—of being the actual assassin who had poisoned my sister. Papa could not

mean

her

.

Stesi’s old handmaiden? Papa said. Was she a magitrix? I had no idea. No, of course it wasn’t her—she was of no consequence. Our agent is a daughter of the Ten Houses, an ally of standing. Ghilene Entila.

Ghilene Entila! I sucked a dismayed breath.

Papa went on, She held the spell lynchkeys to both of the Galatiens’ magical barriers—the one in the Savalias as well as the one in the High City. She gave them to me, which let my mages dismantle the barriers and make our attacks successfully.

I had met Ghilene on our visit to Queenstown, when Papa had thought to marry me to her older brother. If she held lynchkeys—magical passwords—it meant Costas Galatien had trusted her. In exchange for what? I asked. Dread unfurled through my limbs as I anticipated Papa’s words.

Papa’s tapping fingers stilled. "She demanded that I

marry

her

."

No! I sprang from my seat so fast I almost fainted.

Papa leaned back in his chair. I could not afford to refuse her assistance. We could not have won without her. She captured Costas’s son and sent him to me. She awaits me in Galantia. We will be married at my coronation.

Papa, she’s barely older than I! And—and she’s a magitrix! They never marry! I groped for any excuse.

She will give up the practice of magic, as is right and proper for a woman who will be Queen.

Mama was not even a year in the grave! Ghilene Entila, my stepmother? That vile girl? She’d called me Splotch-face right along with her

brother

. "

Papa

!"

Papa stood and held out his hand, palm up. "Starry. This is the smallest of the sacrifices I have made to achieve the Throne. Stop fussing. Come, I’ll show you the baby. Will that

cheer

you

?"

He led me up the mansion’s stairs, bypassing the door to his chambers and continuing down the hall decorated in red velvet. There he unlocked a door to a parlor with a lush carpet. He ushered me in, flicking on a magelight wall sconce.

A man—Costas Galatien, I recognized him by his luminous bronze skin—sat slumped in a chair before the large window on the far wall. A cage of mageglass glimmered around him, making a charmed prison for the

ousted

king

.

Who made the cage? I asked. Papa did not have many mages at his command—one of the many grievances he had nurtured against House Galatien. Old treaties limited the number of lienbound mages House Ricknagel could own, which in turn limited our ability to defend our border with the Eastern Empire.

Papa offered a wry smile. "Kyro, if you can

believe

it

."

Kyro? My father’s personal mage had never demonstrated such talents before.

Papa strode close to the greenish mageglass and ran a finger up it. "Outdid himself, didn’t he? He’s still recovering. I had to send to the Temple to bring his Sources to him, he was that drained. But it is a

solid

work

."

He’s asleep, I murmured, peering in at Costas Galatien, my sister’s former husband.

The enchantment drains him. I wanted you to see him though, Starry. I wanted you to see this man—a murderer who called himself a king. He killed your sister. Our Stesi. I would marry Ghilene Entila thrice over for his defeat. Do you understand?

But she betrayed her lienbound lord, Papa. How can you trust her not to betray you? Splotch-face. I could still hear the scorn in her voice.

Papa caught both my hands and gazed intently at me. It is most fitting for a Ricknagel, so long denied magic’s power, to defeat a Galatien who relied too much upon it. Most fitting, indeed. He turned away. Costas is the reason for all this. Papa gestured broadly. Do not think my marriage to the Entilan girl in any way dishonors your mother, Sterling. The new marriage is a necessity, nothing more. Have a look at the baby if you’re so interested, and make sure you close the door on your way out. He left

the

room

.

I lingered, studying both the mageglass cage and the man locked within it. Costas Galatien looked nearly dead—his skin was blanched, his coppery dark hair fell into his eyes, and the beginnings of a beard shaded

his

face

.

Gingerly, I tapped the mageglass. It was as cold as ice. Costas did

not

stir

.

At least, I thought, turning away, if I am to marry Erich Talata, I won’t have to live with Ghilene Entila. Probably I’d go to Talat City to live in a strange house with people I did not know. Tears filled

my

eyes

.

A cry startled me out of my misery. In the adjoining room a white wooden cradle stood beneath the far window.

The baby! I hurried over to peer at

the

baby

.

He looked more developed than I expected, nearly a full year in age. I’d thought to see a tiny newborn.

He cooed.

Hello there. I dangled my hand before him. Look how handsome you are. The baby snatched my hand and gurgled. He had his father’s blessings: perfect bronze skin and well formed features, but his wide blue eyes were completely unlike Costas Galatien’s amber ones. Go back to sleep, baby. I’m sure your nurse will be here soon. I did not like that the child had been left all alone—a baby needed constant care. I would find a maid to sit

with

him

.

When I turned from the cradle, the baby began

to

cry

.

Don’t cry. I hauled the cradle until it slid across the carpeted floor, pushing the baby into the same room as Costas.

There, I said, tucking the baby beneath his blanket. "You’re with your papa now.

Don’t

cry

."

As I headed out, I gave Costas one more look where he sat behind the enchantment. Suddenly his head lifted and his eyes flew open, blazing with seething hatred. He recognized me—of course he did; who wouldn’t with a face like mine? The rage in his gaze sent me scrambling for the exit. I slammed the door behind me and leaned against it, shaken by the depth of emotion I had seen in the former

king’s

face

.

He knew who I was, and he

hated

me

.

After sending a maid to check on the baby, I readied myself for the ball, my hands quivering. I donned the most important piece of my costume, the mask. The eyepiece was gilded, and sapphires decorated the edges. Stiff layers of gold fabric that matched my gown cascaded down the right side of my face, hiding all trace of my birthmark.

My dress had a wide skirt and a corseted bodice; the older style flattered my narrow waist.

Oh, why did every rumor have to say that Erich Talata was the most handsome man in Lethemia? I’d have preferred an ugly spouse, one who might empathize

with

me

.

In the ballroom, servants were making their last preparations, prodding at already-pristine flower arrangements and filling a mountain of wine flutes.

Finally people started to arrive. Though Papa had laughed at my masquerade theme, he wore a brilliant costume as the ancient Eastern Emperor, Zohar—fitting for his recent triumph, though any Galatien loyalists would think it in poor taste. The situation with the Eastern Empire had been a major point of contention between House Galatien and House Ricknagel.

Papa took me through the burgeoning crowd, introducing me. Names slipped through my head, never catching. I wondered about Erich Talata. Had he heard about me? Did he know I was disfigured? What if he refused to go through with the betrothal after he saw me? The harmony of an entire country depended on our union. Was it a mistake to deceive him with a masquerade? My mask only delayed the inevitable.

I’d been introduced to an endless line of courtiers, so many I could hardly fathom how they’d all gotten to Engashta on such short notice, but none of them were Erich Talata.

I had not been raised with the social graces a lady of my stature ought to have. My mother, always ashamed of me, had rarely let me join in when she entertained. She had not wanted to ruin Stesi’s chances of a brilliant match. Men might worry that their own children would suffer your affliction, my mother had once confessed, as if I were a heritable disease.

I surveyed the room; the masked guests multiplied. The ball appeared to be a success. The knot of anxiety in my stomach eased.

It tightened again when Papa approached with a tall, slender woman on his arm. She was dressed in a silver sheath and a capelet glittering with glass beads. I suspected her diamond tiara and the gems on her mask were real. She could only be Tirienne Talata, my future mother-

in

-

law

.

I suffered a sudden lethargy, unable to even lift

my

hand

.

Papa said, This is my daughter, Sterling, Lady Talata.

I pinched my skirts to curtsey, except I wasn’t sure if I should—didn’t I outrank her now that I was a princess? Not that it mattered. My legs might as well have been cast

from

iron

.

Tirienne Talata surveyed me as though I were a horse for purchase. Thank the gods I’d decided on a masquerade. I’d have wilted under such scrutiny if she could have seen my

blemished

face

.

"Princess Sterling, I am so pleased to

meet

you

."

And I you, I managed. Where was her son? Had she felt the need to inspect me before

introducing

us

?

Papa looked pleased, but distracted. I missed the old version of him, the stable, thoughtful man who’d been my father before this blasted war. Seeking the throne had changed him. Before, he’d never have agreed to marry a lying magitrix, and he’d have found Erich Talata and made sure he danced with me for the first dance, as was proper. The musicians were already tuning their instruments.

As the High Princess, leading the first dance fell to me, and I ought to do so with my betrothed. But Lady Talata made no effort to explain Erich’s absence, and so Papa escorted me to the floor while my stomach turned somersaults.

We began the stately Ballo.

Papa, I whispered, not sure I could bear to know, but needing the information all the same. "Why didn’t

Erich

come

?"

Only my father’s mouth and jaw could be seen below his mask, but I recognized by the tightness there that he was angry. "Oh, he’s here, somewhere, but he ran off as soon as they arrived,

Tirienne

said

."

He ought to be dancing with me. If he does not, people will talk. Desperation tinged my voice. I wanted everything to go smoothly. I wanted to avoid public humiliation.

I will find him, Papa said tightly. "Tirienne is too lenient. Who would you like to dance

with

next

?"

I peered around the room. Oh, anyone.

Papa handed me off to his personal mage, Kyro, and disappeared.

You look beautiful, Sterling,

Kyro

said

.

Erich Talata is missing, I blurted.

Kyro patted my back. "He’ll turn up. Don’t worry, Sterling. You are a good girl. Lord Erich will have no complaints."

But Lord Erich still hadn’t materialized. What if he never showed?

The musical set ended. I curtsied to Kyro. Mages were coveted dance partners—it was said their magic affected the dance—but I had not felt anything special in our dance. I had a sinking feeling the lack of excitement was because he did not find me even slightly attractive. Magic was, after all, largely powered

by

lust

.

I sought a glass of wine as I let my gaze float over

the

room

.

Oh gods, where was Erich Talata, and why hadn’t he come to

meet

me

?

Chapter Three

Iwalked out of the ballroom, passing a few ladies gathered in front of the withdrawing room. The next door down the hall opened at my touch, leading to a library with books and art upon the walls. Thick, expensive carpets from the Eastern Empire lined the floor. The library offered a quiet haven away from the judging eyes of the ball guests. Surely the whispers were already beginning, since Erich had not come for our first dance .

A soft murmuring emanated from behind the bookshelves. Pressing into the shadows, I peered around the shelf, careful not to catch my mask. I couldn’t prevent my soft intake of air at the startling sight I beheld.

The objects of my spying didn’t notice my gasp. They were far too busy with their own endeavors. The woman faced me, sitting in a chair. Her mask covered her entire head, excepting a pile of gorgeous pale hair. Her dress had been shoved so far down that naked breasts glowed in the faint light of the single sconce. I was no expert on breasts, having seen only my own and Stesi’s in any detail, but these seemed like an extraordinarily

ample

pair

.

Hovering above those perfect breasts, a gloved hand gripped an unfamiliar device. The forearm above the glove rippled with supple strength like that of a fencer or one of Costas’s elite Dragonnaires. Aside from the glove, the entire arm was bared, tanned, and toned to perfection. The man wore the costume of a slave from ancient Lysandra—a sleeveless linen tunic displaying broad shoulders, and thin leather breeches sculpting well-formed thighs.

I could not imagine what purpose his device, a narrow metal bar with a point on one end and a feather on the other, served.

No one had ever explained to me what happened between men and women, but I knew by intuition, by the blend of excitement and fear pooling in my center, that I was witnessing lovemaking.

The man’s hair glimmered in the vague light, several shades darker than the woman’s.

Curiosity held me in place. I had grown up in a most proper household. My father was strict, and my mother had been exceedingly refined. Even Stesi had never spoken with me about love play. Only from my reading—and the Ricknagel kennels—had I gleaned any sense of how babies were made, and I had only a fuzzy understanding of the mechanics.

The man had to put himself inside the woman, I knew that much. I’d seen the dogs doing it, though I’d simply been unable to imagine how that worked with people. I peeked around the side of the bookshelf again, taking an inventory.

The woman had her head thrown back, mask atremble. She clutched the arms of the chair. Amassis! Ropes wound around her wrists, holding her in place. Her knuckles whitened with

her

grip

.

Did she

need

help

?

He knelt between her legs, touching her only with his rod, which he used to trace a line up her inner leg with the pointy end. She giggled, though to me the whole operation looked uncomfortable.

What was he doing?

He leaned forward and sniffed between her legs, still without touching her. I pulled back behind the bookcase, appalled. Did sniffing at hind ends have something to do with lovemaking? It really was like the dogs. How mortifying! I would never be able to submit to such indignities. But even as I thought this, heat ran through my entire body, a lust that compelled me to look again.

The man flipped the metal rod and trailed the feathers down