The Prince's Wing

by Amber R. Duell

  A command, not a request like usual. Whatever happened in the secrecy of this morning’s meeting had to be bad. Faramond was definitely going to want me to pass this information along. If I were smart, I’d refuse to listen to Bastian—he wasn’t meant to tell me anyway. There was a reason beyond my fighting skills that the king didn’t want me in those meetings. Paranoia. Only, this time, he was right to be wary.

  “She’s here,” Bastian blurted the moment we stepped into his private sitting area.

  I froze, my hand still around the doorknob after shutting us in. Then, slowly, I turned. “Who?”

  “King Jonty’s daughter.” Bastian paced the room while gnawing on the pad of his thumb. “Lady Karina. She arrived secretly before I was even told of the engagement.”

  The blood drained from my face so fast I could practically hear the whoosh. It couldn’t be her, could it? New to the palace. Staying at the palace. Gowns of a high-ranking noble. A tutor. Questions about the prince. Fuck.

  “W—” I cleared my throat and turned toward the bookshelf, busying myself by pushing them all into a perfectly even row. “Why would they bring her here before you knew? You might’ve refused the marriage.”

  “We both know I couldn’t,” he snapped—not at me, but at the situation. “My father was worried that the news of the engagement would be leaked after he announced it to the governors, so he brought Karina here first to keep anyone from preemptively murdering her.”

  “Logical, actually,” I murmured, though I hated siding with the king about anything. “Did you meet her, then?”

  “No.” He paced behind me, the thud of his boots increasing with his pace. “There’s a formal dinner tonight for the introductions.”

  My heart thumped heavy in my chest. The perfect opportunity for me to sneak into the governor’s residence and wait for Pevran to return from the gathering.

  “You’re coming,” Bastian said as an afterthought. “Father approved in case anyone acts against the match.”

  Whirling around, all thoughts of Karina gone, I held my breath. That was… unexpected. And unnecessary. No one would stand up to the king in a violent manner in his own palace, and I needed to use the distraction to accomplish Faramond’s task. “You’re not serious?” I asked.

  “It’s a special occasion,” Bastian said, tugging at the buttons on his jacket sleeve. “He always allows you to attend those.”

  “But…”

  Bastian stopped pacing and faced me. There was no denying him when he looked at me with such pleading eyes, but still, he said, “I need you there tonight.”

  “Of course.” I swallowed hard. Killing the governor wouldn’t be possible, but at least I could confirm that I hadn’t kissed the future princess of Eradrist. Saints be damned. If it was her, what would I do? Tell Bastian that I kissed his soon-to-be wife? That would go over well. His best friend and his fiancée… My stomach twisted with guilt and I wasn’t even sure I’d done anything wrong yet.

  Bastian trudged to a cabinet with stained-glass doors and yanked it open, pulling out a nearly-full bottle of wine. “We’re going to need this,” he said, setting it down on the circular table with a thunk.

  Need it? Yes. But I couldn’t think of anything worse than showing up drunk to a formal dinner with King Edric. Except showing up drunk to a formal dinner with the king and the girl I was far too attracted to. I winced. “I’ll get the glasses.”

  Chapter Seven

  I couldn’t remember the last time I wore the formal Wing uniform. Silver trim ran along the edges of the long jacket, following the bottom hem where it skimmed the floor in six separate panels. The black leather was cut into individual scalloped pieces, stitched together to look like scales running down my back and chest. The sleeves strained, my muscles having grown, as I twisted my hair into a low knot at the nape of my neck. A shorter piece escaped and dangled over my right eye.

  “Saer, which jacket?” Bastian asked.

  I blew the hair aside and leaned against the door frame leading from the prince’s bedroom into the dressing chamber. An older manservant wearing gray robes held up a dark blue jacket with silver filagree and another dark blue jacket with silver filagree. “They’re exactly the same.”

  “The design on this one goes all the way to His Highness’ collar,” the man said, holding one a bit higher. Then he switched, raising the opposite one. “This design branches out across the shoulders.”

  Was this a serious fucking conversation? Jacket design. The bastard daughter of King Jonty was inside the palace—had been inside for an unknown amount of time. Sneaking off to meet me in the garden, unsupervised. Potentially. But what were the odds it was another noble girl? We were both going to be strung up and tortured to death if anyone learned of those secret meetings—especially the kiss. That demise was a fear I lived with every day, but this time, I had to rely on another person to keep their mouth shut. Unlike Faramond, Karina didn’t need me. My only saving grace was that she already knew who I was so there would be no surprise on her face tonight.

  “It’s just a dinner,” Bastian said with one raised brow. “There’s no need to look like you’re marching to the gallows.”

  I forced a tight smile. You have no idea. “Wear the second one.”

  Bastian nodded to the servant and smoothed down the white silk shirt he already wore. The braids holding his coronet in place had been undone, the simple design replaced with a more formal one. A thin circle of silver now peaked all around his head with the braids woven between each sapphire tip, giving a fierce impression. The tightness of his expression and slightly-pinched eyes told another story.

  “Try not to be nervous,” I said.

  “That’s easy for you to say.” He lifted his chin so the servant could fasten his jacket collar. “What if I hate her? What if she hates me?”

  “Then I suppose you’ll live like nearly every other royal couple.” Miserably, with a mistress or two on the side. But Bastian took his vows seriously. When the prince married and promised fidelity, he would mean every word. “Besides,” I continued. “You’re the prince.”

  “That won’t matter if she’s the conniving type.”

  Plenty of men were ruined by their scheming wives, just as women were ruined by their husbands. A little sweet talking, a special move in the bedroom, and that was all it took. Fortunes could be lost to dressmakers or people could end up murdered. Either the spouse killed the lover or the lover killed the spouse. Once, a noblewoman convinced her husband to kill her own mother. It all depended on the game being played, but the game was best left untouched.

  Bastian had something more important to lose than money though. He had the power of a crown and Countess Odelia undoubtedly taught her daughter how to get what she wanted.

  “She will at least try to please you.” I forced a touch of humor into my voice to calm Bastian’s nerves. “A happy prince becomes a happy king, and a happy king will give her more power.”

  He tilted his neck, cracking it. “I don’t want to be saddled with a harpy that only sees power when she looks at me.”

  I scowled, knowing exactly what he meant. When Karina saw me in the garden, she hadn’t seen me as a Wing. She’d seen me. At least, it felt like it. Perhaps it was an act, but that didn’t change the small weight it took from my chest. And, even if she was the same Karina we met tonight, I would never forget how that felt. The moment the raging anger and guilt in my soul had calmed. “I hope she’s the wife you deserve,” I said.

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” Bastian said with a heavy sigh. “Let’s go before we’re late.”

  ✽✽✽

  The Main Palace consisted of veined marble floors, curved doorways, and gold accents everywhere. Between the front door and the banquet hall, there were at least thirteen different portraits of the king in gilded frames. Statues of half-dressed women were covered in gold dust, and the curtain ties had strands of it woven in.

  Inside the banquet hall, things only became more
ostentatious. Three massive chandeliers hung over a long table adorned with floral arrangements low enough to see over while sitting, gleaming silver plates, and embroidered napkins. The chairs were gold and padded with crushed red velvet that matched the tablecloth. A fire roared in the massive fireplace behind the head of the table—King Edric’s chair noticeably larger with tall spires rising from the back—and the walls had recently been painted white. A fact I knew only because I’d attended Bastian’s birthday banquet a few months ago and the wood had been bare.

  The back door to the room swung open and one of the King’s Wings strode inside with heavy steps, chin held high. Volney was big-boned, his head completely shaved, and his face covered with a dark, bushy beard. He met my gaze from across the room and nodded once.

  “Bastian.” King Edric stormed around Volney, and headed straight for his son. His icy blue eyes spared me a cold glance before pulling Bastian toward the head of the table. The deepening lines at the corners of his eyes made me question his health. Mentally, if not physically. I hadn’t seen him in a handful of weeks, but he’d already aged years.

  A short, satin cape had been fastened around his shoulders, hiding what I knew to be a jagged, withering body. Any muscle he’d put on during his fight for the throne had melted away, leaving sharp elbows and sloping shoulders. The golden crown and brown braids that held it in place effectively hid his receding hairline.

  “Are you ready to meet her?” the king asked, sounding almost fatherly.

  Volney and the second Wing, Nen, flanked the king as he took his seat. Nen—the leaner of the two, with dark hair, a narrow face, and a crooked nose from too many breaks—slid the throne-like dining chair to the table.

  “Yes, Father,” Bastian said, slipping into his own seat to the king’s right. He nodded slightly for me to take the seat beside him.

  “Wings aren’t meant to sit,” the king admonished before I could make a decision.

  “He’s not here as a Wing.” Bastian gave the chair a little shove, a silent order for me to sit. I winced as I obeyed, not because I thought it wise, but because disobeying the prince would be worse than angering the king. Besides, Bastian had just defied his father for me. “He’s here as my guest, and I expect him to be treated as such.”

  Red bloomed on the king’s hollow cheeks. “I’ll speak with you later,” he hissed. Then, to the unseen servants outside, he called, “Let them in.”

  The main, double doors to the banquet hall swung open to reveal the waiting governors. They were all dressed in their finest—the men perfectly tailored and the women draped in silks. None of these women were nobility, so small glass beads decorated their gowns instead of the real gemstones dripping from them like Karina had.

  “Sit,” the king ordered the small crowd.

  I scanned the governors and their spouses as they filed silently to their seats, but no one looked ready to pounce. Hesby, Governor of Coin, entered first, his white hair trimmed short, and his bird-like wife walked at his side. Then came Abaes, Governor of Agriculture, with her black hair braided over one shoulder and a dark-skinned man at her side. She wasn’t married, so he could’ve been a close relative or a lover. The muscular Governor of Defense, Vetall, followed next. His wife was young enough to be his daughter, but the older governor had admittedly aged well. The Head Governor, Grosby, and his wife, strutted straight up to the table like they were the ones hosting the banquet, and took the seats directly across from Bastian and me. And, finally, the Governor of the People—the one I’d been dreading.

  Governor Pevran entered alone which struck me as unusual, but somewhat expected as I hadn’t heard any tales of exploits. She wore her blonde hair short, neatly curled and pinned, and only a hint of wrinkles lined the corners of her eyes. When she sat, it was beside the Governor of Defense’s wife, and she offered the young girl a gentle, reassuring smile.

  Of all the governors, Pevran appeared the kindest. And I had to kill her for it. For doing her job. Doing it the right way by looking out for the people of Eradrist and not the royal coffers. This could very well end up as one of my biggest regrets. Bastian could use someone like her when he inherited the crown, someone to do real good.

  “Well,” Governor Grosby boomed once everyone was settled into their seats. “Where’s the girl?”

  A figure stepped slowly into the doorway and hesitated while the head governor continued speaking about how tardiness wasn’t acceptable for a future queen. I seemed to be the only one to have noticed the beautiful woman taking small steps toward the table. Beautiful and familiar.

  My lips parted, my heart slamming painfully in my chest, as the rest of my body stilled. It was her—the same Karina from the garden. My worst fear of the night. She wore a gown so white that it nearly glowed with a dozen strands of diamonds draped over each arm. Half of her honey-colored hair was twisted back with matching gemstone strings, the rest lightly curled. A soft shade of pink covered her lips and a dusting of white powder highlighted her eyelids. But the look in her eyes as she walked, alone, into a room with the most powerful men and women in the country had me balling my hands under the table.

  She’d lied to me. Let me kiss her when she knew she was engaged to Bastian… Yet, I hated seeing how terrified she looked. I knew from experience what she was feeling, only I’d been two years old. Newly orphaned, shoved into a room before King Edric—after being told by Faramond that he was a maniacal killer. It had been a miracle that I didn’t piss myself until I left the room as the newly assigned Prince’s Wing. That day was one of my earliest memories.

  “Forgive my tardiness, Governor Hesby,” she said in a quiet voice.

  The room fell silent as every eye went to Karina. I heard Bastian’s deep breath and the delayed exhale, felt him tense beside me. Fuck. This was a disaster. A betrayal of our friendship. Another betrayal. How could I have kissed her? Even without knowing who she was, I knew I could never have her. This Karina wasn’t supposed to have been at the palace yet though.

  And now I had to weigh truths against lies to see which needed to be told to whom. Should I tell Bastian I kissed her? Should I keep her disloyalty a secret? While I hadn’t known she was engaged, she was fully aware. The future relationship between her and Bastian would be shit if she didn’t take her wedding vows as seriously as the prince. If he married her without learning of the kiss and it slipped out one day, what then? I could break his trust a little now or a lot later. Save him from hoping it would be a good marriage, or let him discover her true nature after she tore his heart out. Either way, the engagement was official.

  Then I had to wonder if the Asters told her to play mind games with me or if Faramond needed to know? Perhaps it was a test to see if I was loyal to the Asters or the Prince. Which would prove me innocent of treachery? If I told Faramond that Karina had sought me out in the garden and he hadn’t instructed her to, I would be fucked for interfering with his plans. But if he did tell her to find me, to lure me in, and I kept it a secret, Faramond would know I kept things from him.

  Fucking… FUCK!

  I wanted to scream. To break something. To throttle the girl who appeared so innocent and lost while she stood at the far end of the banquet table. I focused on the table setting laid out in front of me. Was I not in a hard enough position? Could I not want something for a single moment? Not let myself have the briefest glimpse of happiness without it being stolen from me. Everything good in my life was twisted and broken. My friendship with Bastian tainted. My mother’s face long forgotten to me, but her screams when King Edric’s men came for her were not. The sound of my father begging them to spare me. They had loved me, I believed, but that wasn’t what I remembered. I only recalled fear.

  When Karina made her way toward my seat, I jolted upright. The king or governors must’ve continued speaking while I was lost in thought, because now Bastian stood. He was beside his chair, bowing to Karina and, when she was finally before him, he lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing it.

&n
bsp; The scent of wildflowers clung to Karina but was now mixed with a richer scent of perfume. Something I couldn’t quite identify, but hated. Nearly as much as I hated her in that moment.

  “The Prince’s Wing was kind enough to warm your seat for you, Lady Karina,” King Edric said with false joviality.

  I clenched my jaw and stood, rounding the chair that Bastian had defied his father for. One point for the king. There was no denying him in a room full of governors, even if the prince demanded it.

  Karina kept her gaze to the ground as she offered a gracious curtsy—one too grand for my station—and slipped into the chair. I tucked it beneath her as she lowered herself and caught the flash of annoyance on Bastian’s face as he returned to his own seat. His father had bested him. As always.

  I shifted to stand behind Bastian, slightly toward his right so I had an unobstructed view of the space between the prince and his fiancée. The King’s Wing, Volney, stood between Bastian and his father. While my focus should’ve been on Bastian, my eyes kept darting back to Karina.

  From where I stood, I couldn’t see her expression, but her hands were folded tightly beneath the table. The diamonds in her hair shook slightly, giving away the tremble of her body. I wanted to rip the strands of gems from where they draped over her arms and wrap them around her neck until she confessed everything. Every motive, every person pulling her strings.

  Servants filed into the room, carrying small silver trays with bowls of streaming soup. One was set before each person at the table, starting with the king.

  “It’s lobster bisque,” Bastian whispered to Karina. “Do you like seafood?”

  “Yes, Your Highness.” Her voice was soft, compliant. Nothing like the bold woman who had visited me in the garden.

  With her head tilted to reply to Bastian, she cast a quick sidelong glance at me. Or, more specifically, my chest. Apparently, she didn’t have the courage to meet my gaze after her lies. Who could blame her? And I wasn’t complaining. While I’d learned long ago to keep my expression blank, I couldn’t control what my eyes gave away, and I didn’t know which secrets were visible there at the moment.