by Adalyn Grace
Heart squeezing, I try to flag down a worker when I bump hard into someone’s chest. I stumble back, but the man catches my hand before I can fall, steadying me.
“Careful,” he says, voice deep and husky. “I wouldn’t want to get into trouble for accidentally injuring the queen.”
I peer up to a face that’s surprisingly familiar—Lord Elias, the younger brother of Lady Ilia and the man she’d sent to stand in for her during Arida’s advisory meeting.
He’s got a hard, square jaw and wide shoulders. Focused on the meeting, I didn’t pay him as much attention the last time I saw him. This close though, his face is handsome enough to make my mouth dry. I press my lips together, trying to collect myself as I stare into deep, sea foam eyes that are beautiful against his suntanned skin. He towers over me, flashing a smirk that makes me notice day-old stubble I’m surprised to find myself wanting to touch.
“You’d be thrown into the prisons for that,” I find myself saying, forcing the words out. My stomach flips when he laughs, low and deep. I want to ignore it, but I can’t help feeling the familiarity that strikes me hard. He reminds me of a blond Bastian, strong and broad, with a deep laugh and a husky voice.
“Surely you’d come and bail me out?” he teases. “I know my queen is far too benevolent to allow me to rot away underground.”
I pretend to consider this, squinting at him. “It sounds like you don’t know your queen at all. But, I’ll tell you what. I can help you with that problem, should you help me find another glass of—”
“Bubbly?” Nelly stands behind Elias, beaming as brightly as the moon as she presses flutes of bubbling pink wine into our hands. “I’m so glad to see the two of you chatting. That dance floor sure is looking a bit empty, though…”
Elias’s chuckle is low and tinged with awkwardness. “Apologies about my sister-in-law.” He flashes her a look, eyebrows knitting. “She’s been trying to pawn me off all year.”
“I’m just trying to help,” she says innocently between sips of wine. “You need a good girl in your life, Elias.”
“And I am quite capable of finding one on my own, I assure you.” He sighs, thoroughly charming me with the way his cheeks flush a light pink. He’s swift to extend his flute toward me. “Regardless, Your Majesty, I hope this settles our grievance?”
“It’s a start.” I tap my flute against his, my own skin warming as Nelly slowly backs away.
“I’ll leave you two alone, then.” She starts to retreat into the crowd, where Ilia is quick to grab her hand. There’s a stern, serious expression on the adviser’s face as her focus shifts to me for little more than a few seconds.
Nelly’s lips press together. She gently peels her arm away, muttering something under her breath that I can’t make out. It’s clear they’re arguing, though they do it in low voices so as to not draw attention to themselves as they disappear into the crowd.
Though my curiosity spikes, there’s nothing I can do about it as I catch sight of the Ikaean reporter lingering in the edge of my vision. I consider Elias. He’s everything Mother and Visidia’s people would eat up—charismatic, handsome, and of noble blood. And with the reporter watching, I know my chance to find out what the two were arguing about has already passed. There’s no room for politics tonight, and with Ornell nowhere to be found, I may as well give Visidia a show.
“I must admit, I didn’t expect you would be here tonight, Lord Elias.” I make my voice softer. My eyes gentler. “You never struck me as someone interested in the crown.”
“I’d never given it any thought,” he says with an easy shrug, taking the bait and settling into a comfortable place beside me. “But after meeting you back on Arida, I decided I was interested in who wore the crown. I figured why not give tonight a shot and see if there was a connection?”
“Funny,” I say. “You didn’t seem very interested before.”
“Would you believe I’m painfully shy?” Show or no show, his smirk nearly strangles me. No matter how many men I’ve talked to tonight, I haven’t once been able to get Bastian out of my head. I’ve compared every new face to his. Every voice to the way his words make my stomach flip. Every pair of eyes to the way I enjoy looking at his. So far, no one has been even comparable.
But Elias is at least similar. So much so that if I don’t look at him too closely or listen too intently, he could make for a wonderful distraction.
“Did you know that the name Amora means beautiful sun?” Without having taken a sip, he’s switched out his bubbly for blood-red wine. “That’s even what you look like, too. Radiant and beautiful, like a giant ball of sunlight.”
I meant to take only a nursing sip of wine so as to keep my head straight, but I choke as I tilt the glass back, accidentally swallowing a giant mouthful that nearly comes out of my nose. “Blood of the gods, where did you hear that?”
A coy smile plays upon Elias’s lips. “I didn’t. But that’s what it should mean.”
And gods do I laugh, even if it’s mostly from the alcohol and the ridiculousness of my burning nose.
“Just how many times have you tried to woo a girl with that ridiculous line?” I give him a teasing elbow to his gut, and he rubs at it with a deep laugh.
“I promise that one was crafted specifically for you.”
Music swells in the air around us, no longer excruciatingly soft and slow. It kicks up enough that others find their way onto a makeshift dance floor set up upon the sand, looking so bemused that I’d believe they’ve never before danced. When I peek at Elias, about to ask him to join me, his hand is already stretched toward me.
“Ladies I’ve danced with in the past have told me I have two left feet,” he says with a crooked grin, “but I’ve never been certain if I should believe them. Do you feel qualified to make that assessment?”
Smooth talker, this one.
I don’t stop to consider the offer because if I do, I might think better of it. I should be moving on to the next person, hunting down Ornell. But maybe it’s because I know I need to put on a show, or perhaps because he just made me laugh so hard that I nearly choked. Or, maybe it’s because he reminds me of Bastian, or how during the night back on Arida when I’d faked my magic for the advisers, he was the one who hadn’t turned away in horror. Whatever the reason, I take his hand.
All eyes are on us as he leads me to the dance floor, including, I’m sure, Bastian’s. But I don’t let myself think about him.
I stiffen when Elias sets his hands on my hips, goose bumps fleshing their way up my skin. I set one hand on the arm that holds my waist, and the other on his broad shoulder, stepping closer into him. The music, while faster than it’s been previously, is still slow and elegant enough to keep us in each other’s arms.
Elias’s grip is strong and comfortable, familiar even when he’s not. I find myself relaxing into it as we dance, the world slowly morphing into a blur of lights and jewels. Elias certainly does not have two left feet; he’s an excellent dancing partner, and an even better conversationalist. At first I’m able to keep up with his wit, but the longer we dance, the more sluggish and jellylike my limbs become. My feet slow and the blur of lights and jewels is no longer beautiful, but painful enough to make me squint. Even when I stop moving, the world around me continues to spin.
Stars, I must have had more alcohol than I thought.
The moment the song is finished, I pull away from Elias, breathless and clammy. This isn’t my first time drinking; I know what it feels like when I’m getting too close to my limit. I made sure to eat and pace myself, but it must not have been well enough.
“I have to stop,” I manage to grit out. “I’m so sorry.”
Though his eyes widen a bit, I’m glad to see Elias doesn’t look offended. “Don’t worry about it. You’re looking ill, though. Is there something I can—”
I shake my head, not wanting him to see me like this. “You’re a lovely dance partner, but I owe it to the others to continue on with introductions.” No
w that we’ve stopped dancing, the world has steadied some. My vision still blurs at the corners, and if I move too quickly my balance sways, but it’s better. “Why don’t you find me tomorrow? I could use someone to show me around the island.” Even light-headed, I don’t miss the way his chest swells, and I laugh quietly at his eagerness.
“I’d be honored.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “I’ll wait here for you around midmorning?”
I don’t have the chance to answer. The burn of bile rises in my throat, and I shut my eyes to steady it, not about to make a fool out of myself before the entire island.
“Your Majesty? Are you sure there’s nothing I can—”
“You can get out of the way and give her some air.”
From the immediate wave of warmth and relief that floods me, I know the voice belongs to Bastian. Opening my eyes again, I see he’s there before me, pressing a glass of water into my hands. When Elias hesitates, Bastian’s eyes flare darkly, voice lowering into a growl.
“Turn around and walk away. You’re going to draw attention if you keep staring.”
But it’s too late for that. The Ikaean reporter in the corner is working his magic on the parchment in his hands, and I’m sure there are a dozen others I can’t see who are doing the same.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Elias,” I say urgently, trying to smile but failing miserably as a new wave of nausea rolls over me. Fortunately, he takes the hint and bows his head before backing away.
“Tomorrow, then. Feel better, Your Majesty.”
The moment he’s gone, I sway but don’t fall. Bastian’s hands are on my shoulders, steadying me. By the look on his face, it’s clear he’s been watching all night. Not that I expected he wouldn’t be.
“Well, you certainly have a type.” Though some of the bitterness in his voice left with Elias, it’s still far from thrilled. “What happened?”
I keep hold of his arm to steady myself. “I think the wine must have hit me at once. I thought I’d been pacing myself, but…” My voice trails off as he nods and sets a firm hand on my waist. The feeling of it there sparks a heat in my belly as I remember all the places those hands trailed my skin earlier, back in my room.
“How do you feel right now?”
“Light-headed. But there are still so many people I need to meet. I have to—have to go meet them.” I spent too much time dancing with Elias; I should have spent that time making sure I’d met everyone. I’m about to pry myself from Bastian and hunt through the crowd when his fingers splay across my hip. Tense, I eye them. “What are you doing?”
He straightens, avoiding my eye by looking upward. “You’re slurring your words, Amora. The last thing we want is for people to talk about how their queen got too drunk on her first visit to Curmana, or to share those blasted moving pictures. I’m not letting you go back out there on your own.” He turns to the crowd, raising his voice for them before I can argue. “This will be the last dance of the evening for Her Majesty! She has an early morning tomorrow, and plenty more time to meet everyone. If she’d like more time with you, you’ll be summoned tomorrow.” He says the last several words with audible annoyance, gritting them through his teeth with much effort.
“Another dance?” I grumble, head pounding and feet aching.
“We can’t rush out of here without looking suspicious,” Bastian says gently, at least having the decency to look as though he regrets making me do this. “Humor me with one more dance, and then we’ll make a clean escape. We’ll get you some food and water, so you can sleep off that wine and spend tomorrow with my look-alike. But for now, one more dance.”
Though he keeps his voice light and teasing, there’s fear in his words. Through our curse, those feelings of his seep into me so fiercely it’s as though they’re my own.
This time I give in to them and lean into Bastian’s chest. Over his shoulder I spot Ferrick, watching and ready to sweep in should I need him. But right now Bastian’s touch is exactly what I need to help with this sickness. The feeling of his skin against mine calms my swaying vision, but it’s not enough to dull it entirely.
I’ve been drunk before, but it’s never felt anything like this. Our “dance” is nothing more than him holding me on my feet as the world once again blurs around me.
“Have you eaten?” His smile is wide and proud, fake for all those watching.
“I heard Ilia and Nelly arguing,” I answer instead, not remembering what he asked me.
“Do you know what it was about?”
“Maybe she was mad because this is all fake?” I laugh into his shoulder, no longer able to see him. My skin is so hot. So sticky. Everything is white. “She must have spent so much money on this party, and it’s all fake.”
I laugh again as the music stops, feeling Bastian tense beneath my hold. “Hang on a second longer. I’m going to get you out of here.”
“Apologies,” someone says. Ferrick, maybe? By the gods, I love Ferrick. “But we’re under strict order to get Her Majesty to her room by a reasonable hour, to prepare her for the rest of her time on Curmana. But please feel free to continue enjoying this wonderful party. Eat, drink, dance!” He says something else that makes the crowd laugh, but I don’t hear it.
Bastian turns my back to the crowd when I can no longer pretend. It’s all I can do to hold his arm and allow him to lead me.
“What’s wrong with her?” Distantly, I recognize the voice as Vataea’s and wonder when she arrived.
“She said it was too much wine,” Bastian says, keeping his voice low. “Just act natural. Laugh or something. Stars, Vataea, you draw too much attention.”
She laughs quietly, as Bastian suggested. But as we get farther away she whispers, “Are you sure it’s the wine?”
“I’m fine,” I try to argue, but I’m not sure if the words ever make it past my lips, or if everyone is ignoring me.
“Food poisoning, maybe?” Casem asks. We must be far enough from the crowd, because my feet slip away from beneath me and my body floods with warmth as Bastian pauses to scoop me into his arms, cradling me against his chest.
“We need to get her to the room without anyone seeing,” Bastian says. “Shanty, a little help here?”
Those words and the press of two warm hands against my cheeks are the last thing I remember.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
When I wake the next morning, the first thing I do is vomit into the metal basin at my bedside.
Though I don’t remember this happening already, something in the way I reached out for the basin, expecting it, assures me this isn’t the first time.
Only after a wave of dry heaves do I notice Bastian’s on the chaise beside me. I startle when I see him, my stomach clenching even fiercer, and his jaw screws tight.
“Looks like you’re awake this time.” He stands to gather my fallen curls in his hands and fasten them back into a clip that hadn’t been there the night before. “Here, drink some water.” Wordlessly, he picks up the basin and disappears with it. Two minutes later and he’s back, placing a clean one next to me. “How are you feeling?”
“Better, I think.” Stomach empty, the nausea has subsided some. No longer is my skin slick with cold sweat, but sticky with the memory of it. “What happened last night? I remember I was dancing, and then we were leaving, and everything after that is … fuzzy.”
There’s a clatter from the bathing room, and both Vataea and Shanty poke their heads out.
“I told you she was awake,” Vataea huffs, slipping out of the room to join us. There’s worry etched into the hard lines of her face, and as Shanty trails in behind her, even she looks concerned enough that my skin crawls.
“You’re scaring me with those faces,” I attempt to tease, but the joke falls flat at the worry in their eyes. “Relax. I had too much wine, but I’m fine, now.”
Ferrick appears then, opening the door of my room carefully as he balances a heavy tray of food. Though I expect one of the elegant gourmet meals that Aunt Kalea and Yuriel h
ave always raved about, I’m surprised to find that everything he’s brought comes from Keel Haul’s stash. Dried meats, cheese, fish, and nuts. Casem follows behind him with a small barrel full of water we had stocked on the ship.
I pinch my brows at it, surprisingly hungry for having thrown up. “They didn’t offer us breakfast?”
“They did. But this is what we’re giving you.” Ferrick sets the tray down and, only a little grudgingly, I take a bite of jerky. Hungry as I am, I don’t let the food distract me. The crew looks at me with such pitying faces that it reminds me of when I’d been nearly killed by the Lusca or injured by Kaven. Their bodies are tense and jittery, as though they believe I might fall over at any moment. I’m about to reassure them that I’m fine, that they can all go get ready for our day, but the look they share stops me.
They’re not just being overly protective. Something’s wrong.
“Amora, we need to tell you something. But we need for you not to freak out, and to trust us.”
Chills flood my body as I recognize the tremor in Ferrick’s voice as genuine fear. He reaches his hand out and I take it without delay. Vataea sets a hand upon my thigh, and though she’s not the touchy-feely type, even Shanty’s lips are pressed firmly together, looking more angry than upset.
“We knew that tension was high within the kingdom,” Ferrick says. “We knew going into this that some were going to be resistant. But Amora, we don’t think your sickness last night had anything to do with alcohol. We think you were poisoned.”
I yank my hand from him as a sharp breath seizes hold of my lungs and stalls there. “Why?” I demand more tersely than I mean to. “Why would you think that?”
Bastian leans forward so that his elbows are on his knees and looks at me with the most severe expression I’ve ever seen. “You were throwing up blood. Ferrick was here all night, trying to keep you alive. I imagine you’d be dead without him; you didn’t stop until the sun was out.”