I scoffed. “You’re just jealous you couldn’t pull off purple tulle.”
Jyn laughed. “I’ll stick to my leathers, thanks.”
I accepted the arm he offered. He led me into the hallway and shepherded me toward the top of the stairs. My feet dragged on the soft red carpet lining the floors. Guards flanked each door, their armor glinting from the candle-laden sconces that illuminated the stone walls in wavering yellows and oranges. With every step, the butterflies returned. The winged messengers pulled me from the comfort of being hidden away on the third floor and reminded me with each flutter of the many eyes waiting below for my grand entry.
“You’re nervous,” Jyn said gently, pausing before the staircase’s height.
“I’m always nervous around crowds.”
“Yes, but today has been more-so than usual. Are you all right?”
I chewed at my lip. “You saw that man in the crowd? The one who grinned at me?” He nodded. “How did he get past Devlyn? How do I know he isn’t in the ballroom or the palace in general?”
“Don’t worry about that, Princess. That’s my job.”
“But—”
“No one is going to get near you. If they do, oh the regrets they will have.” A wicked light twinkled in his eyes as he grinned.
I couldn’t stop my lips from curving slightly. “Come and be my actual escort.”
Jyn patted the hand that rested on his arm. “You’ll be fine. I’m always nearby, anyway. Whether I like it or not.” He winked and detached himself from my grip. “You were crowned today, Princess. You can literally do anything.”
“Were you at the same ceremony? I’m fairly certain any person in that crowd could have handled my coronation with more grace.” I frowned. “Some of them seemed to want to try.”
Jyn huffed. “You’ll run circles around this kingdom. You certainly keep me busy enough.”
“But Mother—”
“Your mother understands. Now, we must show the kingdom what you’re made of. You can do this, Princess.”
“They’re all judging me.”
“They’re going to. You’re their ruler.” Jyn sighed. “You’ve met many of the people in the ballroom before. Besides, not everyone in the kingdom was invited—major earners, nobility, the Royals from Wydus . . . there’s a relatively small number of guests. You will be fine.”
I blinked hard, took a breath and swallowed. The clenched hold on my stomach eased slightly, and I focused my attention on the toes of my white leather dress boots as they peeked out with each step.
A handful of people loitered in the foyer on the first level, including a few lords and nobles with their partners. But the raucous noise of music and chatter drifted from the ballroom and I balked.
Jyn trailed formally behind me now, and I saw several of the nobility eye his blades. I nodded at them, smiling pleasantly. My stomach flipped. My tongue became cotton in my mouth. I put my hands on the silver door handles, took a deep breath—and pushed.
***
The ballroom was resplendent in every way. Each window had been draped with velvet curtains of Thraisian purple and tied with silver cording. A matching carpet runner created a path across the polished cherry wood floor and came to rest in front of our identical thrones, one of which had been used in my ceremony.
Above the thrones, an elaborate mural hung on the wall, portraying an image of four humanoid figures who towered over Thrais. Three figures stared down at the city, their varied skin tones a muted band of color in front of a brightly painted sky. The stern expressions they wore were an ominous contrast to the colors around them. But it was the fourth who always drew my eye. He stood somewhat behind the rest, a wraith-like presence whose features were almost completely hidden in the folds of a dark cloak. I blinked back the shiver and continued toward the ballroom.
My entrance was met with polite applause. I recoiled, apparently more visibly than anticipated when Jyn cleared his throat behind me. A small reassurance. The crowd parted enough to let us pass to the thrones, where I was greeted with a glass of wine for a toast. I lifted my goblet and fabricated a seed of confidence.
“Thank you for attending my coronation and now this lovely ball. My mother truly outdid herself.” I glanced in her direction. She smiled and nodded, though her eyes scaled my dress with annoyance. “Let us relax and celebrate. Come morning, I will do my best to rule as beautifully and fairly as she did.”
Mother clapped her hands as another small burst of applause died. The musicians struck their first chords, and the ballroom shifted into a spectacle of swirling skirts. Eyes followed my dress, the wine in my hand, the coronet on my hair. I was beginning to doubt that the storm of imaginary butterflies tapping my insides weren’t, in fact, real.
Jyn took a watchful position on the wall nearby, arms crossed over his puffed chest. He dared anyone to step out of line with his eyes and flexed his arms to reinforce the thought. I took comfort in his watch, but there were a great many people and a great many judgments being made. He couldn’t protect me from the kingdom’s politics, or the doubts of my people—much less the doubts of my own mind.
I took in the dance before me, the grace of each step and turn. Several of our guests were members of wealthy, titled families: men and women from their early twenties on, all dressed in the most elegant and expensive fashions. Many of the women—and a few of the men—dripped with jewelry they could hardly carry. They looked ridiculous. I gritted my teeth to resist a laugh.
Servants manned long tables next to the side wall, tables laden with miniature food on platters of diamond-accented silver. Clearly, Mother had spared no expense. A table sat off to one side with a gryphon ice sculpture on top, dripping wine from a small fountain. The servants poured wine from the trickling fountain into crystal goblets boasting stems flecked by bits of sapphire. My stomach rumbled in hunger, but I ignored the sound.
“My Lady Natylia.”
Prince Lucian interrupted my thoughts as he bent at the waist before me. The prince shared the same milky complexion of his parents, that sun-absent complexion of a kingdom bordering snowy territories. His white cotton shirt hugged his arms under a green and gold tunic. Lucian offered me his hand.
“Care for a dance?” he asked.
He brushed his lips lightly over my fingers when I accepted and then smiled broadly. I inclined my head politely and allowed him to lead me onto the floor. Lucian was tall—I only came to his chest—and I had to crane my neck to meet his daisy yellow eyes. They lit up with his smile, accented perfectly by the rich brown hair that dipped slightly onto his forehead.
Lucian kept his left hand at a respectful place on my waist and wrapped my hand in his free one. His was soft and warm. I cringed at the few swordplay calluses that I knew lined my palms and fingers. If he noticed, he didn’t mention them. He tilted his head toward our mothers. “Terrible gossips, the pair.”
His tone was lofty and confident, a sharp contrast to the kindness in his eyes. I glanced where he’d indicated, to our mothers, who were leaned in close and whispering fervently behind pointed stares.
Queen Kathryn was beautiful—with long, golden blonde hair and bright amber eyes, which twinkled in the candlelight. Her lips were full and smeared with gloss, and her cheeks reflected rosy hues, likely from the wine she sipped.
Lucian spun me fluidly and, in the return, I noticed his unfamiliar scent, like fresh snow laced with citrus fruit.
“I think our parents intended for us to chat,” I said casually. Lucian glanced at me.
“Likely so.”
“How was your trip down?”
He grimaced. “Long and tedious. Have you ever had to sit in a carriage for three weeks, pairing gowns to hairstyles? My mother spoke of nothing else.”
“I have a sister too, don’t forget.”
“My sincerest apologies.” Lucian laughed. “Thrais is beautiful. The palace never disappoints, nor the royalty.”
“Do those sentiments work at other palac
es?”
“What? The one other palace?” He snorted.
I shrugged.
“No,” he said, his tone light. “I’ve never been to any other palace. Obviously, my mother and father aren’t on good terms with Audri and Phelix. I’ve heard their daughter is a beauty, though.”
“You’ve never met Scarlet?”
I had only met the Princess of Kalum once, but his assessment wasn’t wrong. Scarlet had hair the color of blood, her eyes an eerie red-brown, with a perfectly proportioned body to match. She was absolutely stunning.
“No,” he replied. “I’ve never had the pleasure.”
“She really is beautiful.”
“When did you meet her?” he asked.
I waited until we finished a loop of slightly more elaborate steps before replying. “During the peace talks. Mother thought Annalea and I should experience the talks first hand instead of simply reading the notes later. Especially since an official peace treaty had never been drawn up.”
“Ah. I’d been hunting with my uncle that week. Mother said the meeting didn’t go so well with Kalum, but I only read the official notes myself.”
“Audri and Phelix stormed out halfway through. They claimed they didn’t want to be at the ‘beck and call’ of any other kingdoms, but our parents seemed to believe they simply wanted information.”
“Information?”
“On the terms of our treaty and the limits. Anything they might have gained was useless—the terms were changed several times. But Audri and Phelix had attended initially, and Scarlet with them.”
I could tell from the look on his face that Lucian was warring with the idea of someone walking out on his parents. A somewhat humorous reaction from a man who was used to being treated as you’d imagine royalty expected—to get what he wanted without objection.
“So,” he said slowly. “Are the rumors true?”
“Rumors?
“Did you and your mother argue about wearing boots with your coronation gown?”
Heat crept into my cheeks. “Maybe.”
“Did you win this argument?”
“No.”
Lucian paused. His gaze dropped to the toe of my dress boot, peeking from below my dress. “Did you wear them anyway?”
I didn’t answer, but he grinned broadly when he spun us through the final paces of the dance. When the song ended, I curtsied to meet his bow. My next partner awaited and another after him. As I walked to the edge of the dance floor, a gentleman near the far wall locked eyes with me. I didn’t recognize him, but I didn’t like the way his eyes tracked my movements or skirted over my dress.
In the span of a turn I lost him.
Chapter 4
“Everything all right, Your Majesty?”
The voice broke my thoughts, and I turned my attention to the man who had spoken to me.
Camion. One of the most handsome men I had ever seen, though I’d never give his ego the compliment. His sandy blond hair sat neatly disheveled, a look he somehow pulled off even with the sharply defined lines of his face. One of his eyebrows rose in wait of a response.
I nodded. “I thought I saw . . . never mind. I’ve had a long day, and more than likely my mind is playing tricks now.” I tilted my head. “Since when have you called me by my titles?”
Camion’s lip twitched, but he offered me his hand. “Fair enough. We’ve never been in a formal situation together before. Don’t worry, I won’t make the mistake again.”
I accepted his offer, glad to have an excuse to escape the older gentleman who was working up the nerve to ask me for a third dance. While most of my partners had been extremely respectful, I was now very aware of how sly that particular man was. He would be dancing with other partners for the rest of the evening, if I had any say in the matter.
I smiled, and Camion matched the gesture with a half-smile of his own. I was distracted almost immediately by his eyes. As always. Camion’s eyes were entrancing, more unique than any I had ever seen—vivid green in the center and edged with a bright shade of blue. The very eyes that now curiously scanned my face, seeking clarification as he pulled me into the same polite stance Lucian had held. Camion was slightly shorter than the prince, my own eyes level with his chin. I released a breath, gratified to have a familiar partner.
“Has tonight been so bad?”
“No. I feel like every eye is on me, though.”
“Likely.” He considered his words. “The gossip around town is fairly lively. There are quite a few people who don’t understand why you’re taking the throne before your appointed time. A few are angry, and vocally so.”
I huffed. “It’s not in my power to explain yet. To anyone.” Noting the interest that sparked his eyes, I added, “Is it really such a popular topic?”
“Of course.” Camion shrugged. “Not much else happens; the town needs its entertainment.”
My thoughts drifted to the raucous commotion from the gates earlier in the day. Maybe my well-intended efforts were causing more harm than good. The corner of my lip slipped between my teeth.
“Tyli, what had you so distracted when I approached you?”
I glanced up at Camion, clearing my thoughts. “Wait, what? Sorry.”
He repeated his question, lowering his voice.
“A man, lurking a bit.” I paused. “You’ve seen him too? Wearing a dark cloak?”
“Apparently, yes. Have you only seen him the once?”
“I think he was at the coronation ceremony,” I said softly. “I only saw him for a moment though.”
“I’m curious as to his intentions . . . he doesn’t seem to be participating in any of the festivities. I’d be wary, Tyli.” His eyes scaled the room. “I’ve seen the man three times now, but he disappears the moment I spot him.”
I nodded before he dipped me low in time with the music. Each of his steps, his motions, held a certain amount of grace. Curious, for an apprentice blacksmith. I supposed I shouldn’t really be so surprised though, not when Jyn had hired him to train me in swordplay. A certain amount of poise was required to be competent in the skill, and Jyn would never have hired someone he didn’t consider the best—or, more likely, the best under himself.
Camion was watching me when I glanced up again, his expression unreadable. I hadn’t realized I had zoned out so thoroughly. Heat climbed my neck.
“Sorry, my thoughts got away from me.”
He shrugged. “What are you thinking about?”
“As soon as you release me, that old man is going to come over here and ask me to dance. He has no shame.” I grimaced. “He smells like mothballs and mildew.”
Camion laughed, and a wicked twinkle flickered across his eyes. “How could he resist? Any man would be lucky to have such a beautiful partner.”
I lowered my head and tried to hide the cherry red I knew spread over my cheeks. When I looked back up, there was no humor on his face. He watched me for a moment, eyes tracing the hair that fell loose around my shoulders. His voice was utterly sincere when he said, “You really are beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“Besides, Tyli—” He paused and that half smile reappeared. “—you could be thinking about our lesson for the week, if that’s of any help.”
“No, and don’t call me that.”
“You wanted to learn, and why not?”
I narrowed my eyes. Our lesson for the week was to be with actual, full-weighted blades instead of the wooden, dulled, and hollowed blades he’d been training me with. I’d never admit to him that I was anxious about the swap.
“So . . . no Fentyn tonight?” I asked.
Camion balked slightly at the subject change. “No. You wouldn’t have been able to provide enough alcohol to get him here. So, he sent me.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“No, I know you’d rather have me here.” I relaxed at the amusement lining the lifted corner of his mouth.
“Why do I bother with you?” I teased.
“Yo
u enjoy the challenge.”
“Got me there.”
The final chords struck, and Camion bowed deeply. He met my eyes again, “Be careful, please? Find me if you can’t get to Jyn.” I was surprised at the sincerity in his words. Before he turned, he offered an especially sarcastic, “Your Majesty.”
I rolled my eyes, freezing them midway when I caught Mother’s expression. I tossed my chin up and then made my way over to the ice sculpture to fill a glass with starberry wine before moving toward Annalea. She was glued to our mother’s side, a goblet of water clutched in her hands as she declined every dance offer that came her way. I sidled up next to her and sipped at the dark purple liquid. Starberries were similar to a sweetened strawberry but held the same floral notes as clover honey. They made for a delightful beverage when processed correctly.
“You know, several handsome gentlemen have offered you a dance tonight, and you’ve refused them all. Why is that?”
“Several handsome gentlemen who were old enough to be my grandfather.”
“Yes, well. You are a princess, and this is one of the duties expected of you.”
“I know.” She paused to take a sip. “I’m not as good at this as Mother.”
My gaze flicked to our mother, and I couldn’t help but agree, for myself as well as for my sister. Mother was radiant in a velvet gown of deep emerald. Her braided hair was crowned with a diamond-specked silver circlet. She moved from guest to guest, missing no one, ever the attentive hostess and ever at ease under the scrutiny of our people. I had always envied her finesse. Her courage. She looked better than she had in weeks too, her cheeks not quite so pallid. A weight lifted, perhaps? Or maybe that was my imagination.
I sighed.
“I need to get back to our guests. Do accept someone’s offer to dance, would you?”
She scowled as I stepped away, and I quickly became swept back into the thrum of music and the swirling steps of my partners. I laughed when Meryn cut in. Her grin was mischievous, framed by the fiery curls that fell to her chest.
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