We headed out of the library together. Every servant—and a few nobles—who passed by eyed me suspiciously, but Chiara glared right back at them. When we reached the healing chamber, the door was cracked open, no guard in sight.
“If you ever need someone to talk to, you know where I am,” I said, hooking my thumb back to the door.
She waved and turned, her step lighter than it had been before.
I shifted the books under one arm, then entered. Whether my enemies were the original mages or not, I still had so much to study. I hoped Yesilia wouldn’t make me clean—
“Aleinn!” Enzo stood at the shelf with his grandmother.
I stopped in my tracks. Luc, lounging in a chair near the door, raised his eyebrows at me.
“I…Hello,” I said, then cursed inwardly at the inane greeting.
“There you are,” Yesilia said as if she hadn’t abandoned me. She was holding a long scroll filled with tiny writing. “It’s about time you returned. Your dinner is here.” She pointed to the table near her room, where a plate sat, heaped with thinly sliced meat and thin noodles I’d only ever had once before, and a pile of green and yellow vegetables.
I carefully made my way to the food, set the books on the corner of the table, and positioned my chair so that I could see the room while eating.
Yesilia and Enzo resumed their conversation on the other side of the room, and from what I heard, it sounded like a lesson on herb combinations. Enzo had said he’d been trained under the best healer in the kingdom, but I didn’t expect him to be in here for lessons the day before the ball where he’d choose a new betrothed.
I ate quietly but enthusiastically, though the food was cold and the noodles stuck together. My gaze kept straying to Enzo. More often than not, he was already looking my way, and I jerked my head back down. The third time it happened, Luc cleared his throat.
I finished my food hastily, then tucked my nose into one of the books I’d brought back. The words squished on the page until I couldn’t decipher a single thing, but at least I wouldn’t get caught sneaking a glance at the prince again.
I wished I could tell him about my worries. That I thought there were two other mages besides the one that’d attacked me. That I had no idea what they were capable of. That their vendetta was personal. But my concerns only firmed my resolve—I couldn’t reveal my identity, and I wouldn’t stand in the way of Enzo making a new marriage alliance.
When he left, with Luc ushering him out the door without giving us a chance to speak, I could finally breathe again. Yesilia watched me closely, but I slipped into her room and changed into a nightdress, then drank the cup of water she’d left near my bed and curled up, falling asleep almost instantly.
* * *
The next day, I’d helped Yesilia with a series of health complaints from various people, determined to busy myself until I could sneak away to the library again and not think about the ball. Or anything involving the prince’s romantic prospects, for that matter.
When there was a lull midmorning, she turned to me. “Usually stitches need to stay in for a week or two, but I believe yours are ready to come out now.”
My eyebrows shot up. Cris’s stitches had stayed in forever—or what had seemed like forever back then.
Lifting my shirt, Yesilia snipped the first thread, and I sucked in a breath as she began easing it out. To distract myself from the odd tugging sensation, I shut my eyes and asked something I’d wondered about.
“My mother died a long time ago,” I started. Yesilia freed the first thread entirely. “She was perfectly healthy, and then one evening she complained that her chest hurt, and that she was having a hard time breathing.”
Yesilia clipped the last stitch and began to pull. I went on, needing to know. “Do you…Could you have helped her? If you had been there?”
Yesilia sighed as she gathered the threads and threw them into the embers of the fireplace. “Like I said before, child, it depends on the person. But some things happen no matter how hard a healer tries to prevent it.” Her lips pursed and she finished softly, “I don’t think I could have helped your mother.”
I tucked my shirt back into my skirt. I wore Irena’s clothes today, so I could wash the others. Even if Yesilia couldn’t have helped my mother, I wished there were more healers like her in Hálendi. Maybe, if I ever got the chance, I could ask King Marko about that—sending skilled healers to train my people, or letting me stay and learn longer from his mother.
The door burst open, and Mari, panting, bolted into the room, then slammed the door shut behind her. I reached for my sword, but grasped only air, forgetting that it was in Yesilia’s bedroom.
“What’s happened?” I asked, pulling Mari behind me in case an intruder came crashing in.
Mari bent over, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.
“Are you hurt?” Yesilia asked.
Mari shook her head.
“Is someone else hurt?” I asked.
Again, she shook her head. “It’s Chiara. Her cabbage-headed guard was whining about missing some sort of contest in the city. He kept whining and whining until finally Chiara dismissed him for the day.”
I looked at Yesilia, then back to Mari. “So you ran all the way here? I’m sure Chiara knows—”
Mari shook her head so hard her curls bounced into her face. “Tonight is the ball.”
My brow furrowed, but Yesilia was rubbing her chin. “What does that have to do with anything?” I asked.
Mari sighed like I was trying her patience, a sigh I was sure her mother had given her many times. “There will be all sorts of people here tonight. Father told us to be sure our guards were close. Chiara’s guard knew that. He shouldn’t have been whining—he knows his duty.”
Yesilia took a seat in the rocking chair by the fire. I tried to keep up with Mari’s logic and remembered Luc lounging here the day before. “You each have guards? Even in the palace?”
Mari nodded. “It’s been that way for almost a year now. No one will tell me why.”
Yesilia didn’t comment, but the serious set of her mouth told me enough. Almost a year. Before the raids started on Hálendi’s borders. “Okay, so we find someone else to—”
“You, Aleinn,” Mari said. “I want you to guard her. You protected that other princess.”
The mage’s knife sliding across Aleinn’s throat crashed into me. “I don’t—”
“Yes,” Yesilia said. “You will do this.”
“But I—”
Yesilia stood and dragged me toward her room. “Mari, send for a bath, and find her a dress.”
“A dress?” I asked. “If I’m going to guard her, I’ll need my sword. A uniform would be—”
Yesilia tipped her chin and stared down her nose at me. “Which uniform, child? Are you to be a Hálendian in a Turian uniform, or a uniformed Hálendian in a kingdom you are at war with?”
She had a point. Mari was already gone, running back down the hall. “How can I possibly help her without—”
“You still have that knife in your boot, yes?” she asked.
I opened my mouth, then shut it. “Yes.”
Yesilia nodded and started tugging at the scarf around my hair. I twisted out from under her grip. “Wait,” I said, hands out as I backed away. “I can bathe myself and do my own hair.”
She flicked her fingers at me like it didn’t matter either way. “Yes, of course, child.”
A row of servants trickled in with buckets of water. Mari must have told them who the bath was for, because none of them had been warmed in the fire first.
By the time I was cleaned up, Mari had found me an outfit. A simple cream blouse with a neckline in a deeper V than I was used to; a thick embroidered belt with a golden clasp in the middle; and a skirt the color of raspberries that flowed to the floor,
a wide swath of cream embroidery along the trim. It was beautiful—and would hide my boots.
I braided my hair carefully, weaving a matching ribbon through the strands and winding the plait at the base of my neck. It wasn’t elaborate enough for the occasion, but it would have to do. My ring was my only adornment, and I kept the jewel facing my palm.
Mari waited impatiently, and grabbed my hand the moment I’d dressed, dragging me toward the door. I looked back at Yesilia, pleading for any last-minute advice. She just bobbed her eyebrows and chuckled.
We raced through palace until we arrived at Chiara’s chambers. Mari’s sister was a sight to behold. The basic garments were the same as mine, but the fabric, a deep emerald, fairly shone in the firelight, and the embroidery was a masterpiece. A crown of gold leaves adorned her dark hair, and gold strands looped from her temples, down under her ears, and up into the elaborate curls at the back of her head. A bracelet of smaller shimmering leaves wound up her arm like a delicate vine.
“Thank you for this, Aleinn,” Chiara said as her maid pinned the final curl. The young girl bobbed a curtsy and left, eyeing me the whole time.
When she’d gone, I folded my arms. “Why did you dismiss your guard if your father insisted he be here?”
Chiara bit her lip and wrung her hands. She paced to her mirror and back, the dark green of her dress a sharp contrast to the abundance of peach fabric in her room. “I figured if he wasn’t going to be invested in his duty tonight, it would be better not to have him. And he really wanted to—”
“You always let him bully you.” Mari jumped onto Chiara’s bed belly-first, her feet dangling off. “Nurse always tells me I can’t go outside just because I want to. You shouldn’t let him go just because he wants to.”
It seemed like an old argument between them that I did not want to take sides in. I wished I had my sword to rest my hands against so I didn’t muss my skirt.
“It’s not a weakness to care about others and their wants,” Chiara shot back at her sister.
“Have you talked to your father about this?” I said before they could wage a full battle. “Or your brother? If you don’t trust him to do his job…”
Chiara shrugged and adjusted her bracelet. “I’ve attended plenty of balls alone. Besides, my father and brother are worried about other matters.”
About Hálendi, she meant. And Riiga. I sat by Mari on the bed. “Well, you aren’t alone anymore. What do you think, Mari? Are you going to sneak in with us?”
Mari snorted and hopped to the floor. “Hours of watching ladies gush over my brother? No, thank you. I’ll be in the kitchens.” She gave us a little salute and skipped out of the room.
Chiara and I both started laughing once the door had closed. But that was one aspect I hadn’t thought of when I’d agreed to this only an hour ago. Enzo was looking to find a new bride. Now I’d have to watch him pick her.
In the Turian Countryside
His companion slept fitfully next to him, their horses tied up nearby. He couldn’t sleep at all, though the trees swayed and the stream chattered and the moon drenched them in an ethereal light. This was proving more trouble than expected. It shouldn’t be this hard to find one Hálendian.
And he would find her.
Glass doors covered an entire wall of the ballroom and opened onto a terrace overflowing with trailing flowers. More blooms—and even trees—clustered together along the edges of the dance floor.
I’d thought the colors of the gowns in Hálendi were bright; those had nothing on the vibrant dresses of Turia. It seemed every woman had entered a contest of who could wear the most blinding shade.
Chiara kept me close, our elbows linked together. She flaunted my presence many times, warning away those she didn’t want to speak with. I longed to escape into the greenery.
Everywhere we turned, the benefits of an alliance with the royal family were being bandied about, as though Enzo were only a cart of coal to be traded and used. If I ever defeated the mages and found the traitor who’d set my family up to be killed, perhaps…
My stomach sank into my toes. Even if I did tell Enzo who I was, we could never be together. I was now the ruling heir of Hálendi. The throne was meant to be Ren’s. I’d never envisioned myself sitting on it, but duty to the kingdom came before all else.
I caught a glimpse of Enzo with a young woman on his arm, a burst of color and radiance. He was beaming at her, until his gaze found mine, almost like he had sensed me watching. He raised an eyebrow.
I tore my eyes away, but the image was already seared into my mind. Now I’d have to watch others court and flirt with the man I had come to consider as a friend. Who could have been mine, but would never be.
It was going to be a long night.
The entire room smelled of roasted pheasant, and memories of home filled my mind. Escaping from fancy dinners with Ren. And my father? I didn’t think the cracks in my heart would ever heal where he was concerned. We had just begun to understand each other. I wondered if I’d ever get to go back. If I’d even survive until the end of the year.
Once the first man braved my presence and requested a dance from Chiara, others followed suit, and I was left to stand against the wall, straining to keep the swirling pair in sight. Nobles circled close by once, sometimes twice, to get a better look at the stranger in their midst. It didn’t bother me; I’d dealt with stares before, with whispers.
“Excuse me,” a man said. I stepped out of his way, but he didn’t move.
He also didn’t say anything else, so I said, “Did you need to speak with me?”
The man pressed his lips together in what might pass for a smile if your face was numb from cold. He wore a purple tunic and pointed shoes.
His accent finally registered. Not Turian. Not Hálendian.
He still wasn’t speaking, so I ignored him, searching until I found Chiara again. She was leaning away from her partner as they danced. Only a tiny bit, but it was there if you knew what to look for. If you’d also learned that same trick. Enzo crossed their path, drawing my gaze along with him until I forced myself to refocus.
The man next to me cleared his throat, but I didn’t pay him any attention. He’d speak when he was ready, or he wouldn’t.
“The princess is a picture of benevolence, wouldn’t you agree?” he finally said.
I kept watch on Chiara. “Yes, she is.”
He sniffed. “To invite you to this ball, even as protector, when your people are no longer welcome here, is quite the peace offering.”
My eyes flicked to his briefly, and only years of practice kept the disdain from showing on my face. How had he known I was here to replace her guard?
“She is, as you said, a picture of benevolence.” It was something I’d done for years—instead of playing the courtiers’ games, I’d toss their own words back at them. It always made them furious, and it kept me from having to dissect everything they said.
“You would do well not to tread on her benevolence too much, Hálendian.” He stalked off, a path opening in the crowd as he made his way closer to the king and queen on their raised dais overlooking the crowd.
Marko had seen our interaction. He was still watching me, with arms folded.
“What did Ambassador Koranth want?” Chiara had reappeared at my side, standing a little closer than before.
I scowled and scanned the crowd. “What happened to your last dance partner?”
Her mouth dropped open, then pursed shut. “He asked me to walk with him in the garden tomorrow,” she said, attempting a smile for any listening ears. “Would you accompany us?”
Meaning she didn’t trust her guard to return, let alone to protect her.
“Yes, of course.”
She visibly relaxed, turning to take in the rest of the party. “Meet me in the maze garden after breakfast.”
I
wanted to tell her I’d walk her down, but I nodded. Maybe she wanted it to look more like a chance encounter. I dropped my voice. “Couldn’t you just refuse him?”
Her smile became forced to any who looked closely. “He’s Riigan. I did not want to cause offense. Not now.”
Enzo, resplendent in a long gold embroidered vest and polished boots, stopped in front of Chiara. His eyes snagged on mine, though, and for a long moment, no one spoke.
“Well, brother,” Chiara said, rising on tiptoe to see over his shoulder. “Have you found your future wife yet?”
I averted my gaze and tucked my hands into the folds of my skirt. He made it so easy to forget—his new betrothal, the mage, everything. But forgetting was dangerous.
“No, sister, I have not,” Enzo replied, a tightness in his voice belying his light words. He tipped his head toward me. “What is she doing here?”
Chiara’s hands went to her hips. “My guard was unavailable, so I asked Aleinn to take his place. Just until he gets back.”
Enzo took in a deep breath, his shoulders rising with the motion. “And did you think what that would look like? The Turian princess with her Hálendian friend?”
More and more sets of eyes turned our way the longer the three of us spoke. “Yesilia told me to come, so I did,” I said. Enzo’s mouth snapped shut.
“Koranth spoke to her,” Chiara said, tipping her head toward me.
Enzo rubbed a spot above his eyebrow. “I saw. Did the Riigan ambassador have anything interesting to say?”
“That I should not take advantage of Chiara’s benevolence.” I held my hands out to my sides.
A muscle in Enzo’s jaw ticked. He reached up to run his hand through his hair, but stopped the motion halfway there.
I lifted a shoulder. “He doesn’t bother me. I’m used to…” I trailed off when I realized what I was about to say, to give away.
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