“Yes, Your Highness. Everyone is enjoying themselves.” His eyes dart to me, then back to Sebastian.
“Then I suggest you do the same,” Sebastian says. “There’s a room full of waiting maidens and you’re hovering over us. Go.” He flicks his wrist, waving his hand toward the dance floor. “Find one to entertain you for the night.”
Devlan bows his head. “Yes, my lord,” he says, but his eyes seek mine through his dark fringe of lashes. As if he’s waiting for my dismissal. He’s now my personal guard, but does that mean watching over me even while I’m in Sebastian’s presence?
I meet his eyes and nod lightly, assuring him that I’m all right.
He bows his head farther. “Princess Zara.” Turning on his heel, he departs. He heads toward the opposite end of the room, and I watch him go, oddly concerned if I did the right thing.
“That was unnecessary,” I say, keeping my eyes on Devlan as he maneuvers through the dancing crowd. “I don’t need a personal guard, Sebastian.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Sebastian drinks his wine, taking two long pulls. “Devlan is my best knight. I trust him above all to keep you safe.”
I cock an eyebrow and look at him. “Safe from what?”
“Zara…” He breathes my name. “Not now.” His voice is stern, and I can hear the warning. “I’ll happily discuss this with you another time and bicker till your bickering heart is content, but right now,” he takes my hand, “indulge me. Pretend you are a new, happily betrothed princess enamored with her prince.” A smile spreads across his face and he laces his fingers through mine.
For now, I give in to his wishes. It won’t do me any good to start a fight here, demanding to know things. Soon I’ll need him to believe that I am happy, or at least content, if I’m going to escape. If he continues to question me, placing guards to monitor my every move, I’ll never get away.
I grit my teeth and force a smile. It seems to satisfy him, and he swallows down the last of his wine.
“Here.” I push his empty glass aside. “Let me get you another.” He’s stunned silent by my offer, but I leave before he can question me. Maybe if he gets drunk enough he’ll pass out. Then I can return to my chamber and be rid of this night.
As I’m taking a newly filled goblet from the wine table, I spy Devlan talking into his communicator, his eyes hard and intense.
I glance around at all the other knights laughing and dancing, then back to Devlan’s wary expression. His eyes snap to me, and the worry within their blue depths stirs renewed fear in my chest.
I suspect I’m missing something tonight, and it’s much bigger than the prince’s betrothal.
EIGHT
As the night progresses, I dance with gentlemen as they greet Sebastian and ask for the honor of dancing with the princess. I don’t mind, as it keeps Sebastian at bay, but my feet ache, and after keeping my thoughts and emotions hidden, I’m exhausted and ready for the night to end.
I lean against the table, taking the weight off my soles. People are just beginning to leave, and the crowd is thinning. I scan the hall and locate Sebastian propped against the wall, empty goblet in hand, talking to one of his knights.
Perfect.
I slink my way past the table, working to avoid Sebastian and Devlan, and make it to the archway before I hear my name called out. Hell. I turn, and Sebastian half-walks, half-stumbles toward me.
“You weren’t planning to return without a chaperone, were you?” he asks, somewhat slurred. “What kind of husband would I be to let you walk around without an escort?”
“Not a husband at all.” I cross my arms. “We’re not yet married.”
“Yes. But I am your man now.” He comes up close to me and extends his arm.
“As you wish, my lord.” I take his arm forcefully, causing him to lose balance for a moment and wobble. Hopefully he’s too intoxicated to notice if I slip away from him once we leave. “I simply want to retire for the evening.”
He bows his head to me. “As you wish, my love.”
“Please. Stop calling me that.” I tug on his arm, loosening his hold. “Between you and Sir Devlan, I’m going to forget my own name.”
As we exit the hall, I look around for Devlan, but he must have pursued the girl after all. I’m so curious over their situation that I don’t notice Sebastian’s hand roaming farther down my backside as we walk through the corridor. When it slips too low, I turn on him.
“Sebastian. Remember your manners.” An ache splinters the front of my head, and I rub my temple. “Why don’t you go back to the hall and find a young, willing maiden to bed? Your choices are endless.”
“Nay. I don’t want them.” His eyes are sultry and heavy-lidded. “They’re not you.”
The look he gives me is too convincing. I shake the unease away, reminding myself this engagement is a ploy, a setup for him to take the throne quicker. He merely drank too much and lust is polluting his senses.
I brush my hands along my gown, smoothing it and gaining my ground. “What happened to your patience?”
“It’s quickly waning the longer I watch your hands work over your body.”
My hands freeze, and I attempt to shrink into myself as his eyes roam over me.
He chuckles. “One thing my father didn’t consider when he chose this era,” he says, his eyes drinking me in, “was all the damn layers of clothing women have to wear.” He pushes himself up against me, and I bring my hands up against his chest as he backs me toward the wall. “It leaves too much to the imagination.” His hands cup my waist, his thumbs resting on my stomach, and I pull in a sharp breath. His eyes trail down my face to my chest. “But I must admit, I love what the corset does for your—”
I clamp my hand over his mouth. “Stop,” I say. “Or you’ll feel the palm of this hand against your face.”
He wraps his fingers around my wrist and pulls it slightly away from his mouth. His eyes close, and he runs his lips over my palm, slowly kissing, his warm breath caressing my hand.
His lips move from my hand to my wrist. “Sebastian, stop,” I order, but too low and too flat, with no conviction in my plea. I’ve never been in a compromising position with another, and he’s the prince. My mind races, sifting through scattered thoughts on how to stop his advance.
His other hand grasps my neck, his fingers securing themselves just below the bottom of my braid, and he continues to work his mouth up my arm until he’s wrapped it behind his neck. Then he tilts my head to the side as he thrusts his body against mine, forcing my back flat against the wall. Nausea churns like fire in my stomach, and I push harder against his chest.
His lips find the hollow of my throat, and he kisses his way along my jawline, his tongue slight against my skin. Panic constricts my airway, and my head lightens as my breaths come too fast.
I close my eyes against the spinning, and pinpricks cover my skin at the feel of his sloppy lips roaming, getting closer to my mouth.
“I must have you,” he says. His low voice brings me back, awakening my senses.
“Stop,” I say, but he continues his pursuit. Bracing my back against the wall, I steady my body and mind. With more force, I demand, “Stop!”
He pulls his head back a fraction, just enough to search my eyes, and a sly smile slides across his face. “That’s not what you want.”
I clear my throat, driving conviction into my tone. “Move away. Now, Sebastian. Or you’ll feel the brunt of my knee. And your era wardrobe leaves little to the imagination.” I widen my eyes so he can see the sincerity in them clearly. “My aim will be true.”
Without warning, he grabs both my thighs and hoists me up, anchoring me between him and the wall. “Well, I’ll simply have to keep the lower half of your body occupied also.” Then his mouth is on mine, hard and demanding.
His lips work, forcing mine apart as his tongue slides into my mouth. I’m stunned for a moment until the taste of alcohol and the roughness of his kiss—his teeth biting down on my lip—spur
me into action. I pull at his hair. It doesn’t stop him, and I beat my fists against his shoulders.
Turning my head to the side, I gasp. “Stop. No!”
He cups my face and forces my eyes to meet his. A cruel glint shines in his golden irises as his eyes glaze over. “You’re mine.” I try to turn my face away again, but he snaps my head back into place, banging my head against the wall. “You belong to me.”
My insides shake, and my heart slams against my rib cage. Fear grips my body whole, paralyzing me. Suddenly, I hit the ground, landing wobbly on my feet, and support myself against the wall. I suck in a breath.
Devlan holds Sebastian by the arms, yanking him back. I palm the top of my bodice, trying to adjust the material that has slipped down, while keeping my heart from leaping out of my chest. The first knight’s eyes meet mine, and I stop breathing. Their blue is fierce and cold, and it chills my blood.
“Prince,” Devlan says, a deep boom in his voice. “I implore you, allow Princess Zara to retire for the evening.” He releases Sebastian and stands at attention. “I beg your forgiveness, Your Highness.” He bows quickly. “But you may regret your actions come morning.”
Sebastian’s eyes find mine, and he licks his bottom lip, tasting my blood on his mouth. He drops his head and sways. “You’re right, Devlan.” He coughs, clearing the strain from his voice. “My head is not clear.” He parts his lips to say something more, but instead, presses his lips into a hard line. He nods once, then walks away, stumbling down the corridor.
I swipe the back of my hand across my swollen lips. My arm trembles. I lower it, attempting to hide my fright from Devlan.
“Princess?” His eyes linger on me, their blue pools warming as they search my frame. “Are you—?”
“Yes,” I say quickly. “I’m fine. Thank you.” I push off the wall and turn away sharply, too embarrassed at having been caught in such a position to speak with him. I was so helpless. I clamp my eyes shut, stopping the burn from the unshed tears.
I start walking down the hallway, needing to be alone, and hear Devlan’s footfalls close behind.
Please, go away. “I can see myself to my chamber. Thank you again, Sir Devlan. I promise…I’m all right.” I tell him this over my shoulder, praying he leaves.
“I have no doubt you can see yourself there.” His voice gets closer. “But it’s still my duty, princess.”
My shoulders shake against my will, and I tremble as the adrenaline leaves my system. My legs feel too shaky to keep moving so I stop, letting myself feel weak for the moment. Suddenly furious at myself, I slam a clenched fist against the wall, and then lean my back against the hard stone.
Devlan steps up to me. His hand reaches out, but then he rests it on his hilt instead. “The prince was in an intoxicated frame of mind. It’s no excuse.” He grits his teeth; a muscle jumps in his jaw. “But he meant no harm. Are you injured?”
“Nay.” I harshly wipe the traitorous tear from my cheek. “Just my pride.” I lace my arms over my chest. “Being reminded of how helpless and weak you are is never received well. I’m a fool for—” I stop short before I let something slip about my plan to escape. He must believe I’ve abandoned my idea of running away.
It doesn’t matter what I say, though. Sebastian has proven that I won’t get far if I take off on my own. How am I going to escape all of the Force when they come for me? My father raised me with nurturing and books and discussion. How will any of that help when I need to be fearless and brave, strong and able to defend myself?
I scuff my slipper against the stone floor, unwilling to meet Devlan’s eyes. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be a girl in Karm, and I don’t need his pity.
He exhales heavily as he sidles up beside me. Taking my chin between his finger and thumb, he lifts my face. I angle my head all the way back in order to meet his pale eyes as he looks down on me. “You are not helpless. Nor are you weak.” He releases my face, but I continue looking into his. He’s so close I can see the dark shadow of facial hair scattered along his jaw. Feel the warmth of his breath across my skin.
“I don’t feel otherwise.” I bite my bottom lip.
He holds my gaze. His lips part and he shifts his stance. A small groan rumbles in his throat, but he chokes off the noise.
Wonderful. I’ve now made the first knight uncomfortable, too. I take a step back and wave off my confession. “I meant…I’d just like to be able to beat back drunken buffoons from slathering me with sloppy kisses.”
Relief floods me when Devlan’s lips quirk up at one side. “Was it your first?” He tilts his head, studying me. “Is that part of the reason you’re upset?”
My mouth falls open, and I regret giving him this opening. “Nay.” I hear the lie in my voice. “Nay. I should simply know how to defend myself. That is all.”
His eyes are hard on me, his brow pinched in thought. “And if you were given the chance to learn?” His eyes, unblinking, hold mine. “Would you meet that challenge?”
“I would,” I say. Then with more assertion, “Are you offering to teach me, Devlan?”
For a second, he looks as if he’ll agree. His eyes are still on me, gauging me, sizing up my response. He takes a step back, wary. “Nay. But there are archery lessons offered to maidens, and, in a sense, it’s a way to become more proficient in certain skills.” He looks down the hallway, away from me. “I’m sure the prince would approve if you were interested.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t need his approval, but I’d like to learn something more than archery.” I ball my fist. “How to punch, mayhap.”
This elicits a small smile from him, but he keeps his eyes trained on something farther down the corridor. “Good night, princess.” He steps closer and looks down at me. “Remember this,” he says in a low, husky voice. “It doesn’t count if it’s unwanted.” His eyes flicker, the torches’ flames dancing in his light irises. I wish to deny his claim about the kiss, but something in his tone rings so true it holds me captive. “You can still bestow the gift of your kiss whenever you choose, to whom you choose.” He steps back and bows. When he rises, he squares his shoulders. “And remember. It’s Sir Devlan when in the presence of others.”
Before I can respond, he spins and takes off down the hallway. I watch, motionless, as he leaves, his words echoing in my mind.
I can choose.
Choice. A foreign word in our society, yet it rolled off his tongue so easily, and without regard for his prince. He’d also given me permission to address him with familiarity, after my blunder, of course. I run my fingers over my now-cool lips, puzzled.
I shake myself from my trance and turn to my chamber, realizing he’s allowed me the rest of the walk by myself. I smile. Glancing over my shoulder, I see him near a pillar, communicator to his ear. He doesn’t respond to whoever is talking. He only drops the device into his vest pocket and marches quickly away.
Part of me wants to follow after him, find out what could make the first knight rush off at such a pace. Considering his strange behavior at the betrothal, I’m growing more curious regarding the brooding knight. Another part wants to bury myself under covers and forget this night. My exhaustion wins out, and I slog to my room.
I close the heavy wooden door behind me and begin unlacing the back of my dress. Luckily, it’s not one that needs the assistance of another to remove. I suppose, like wedding dresses, it’s meant to easily disrobe from.
A sickness bites my stomach, and I shake the thought from my head. Once my gown is removed, I immediately go to loosen the strap of my leather sheath and freeze. I’m alarmed for a moment until I remember it’s hidden between the mattresses.
What if I’d been stupid enough to wear it tonight? Sebastian had been more forward than I ever thought possible. His hand had been in the very spot where I keep it. Panic squeezes my chest. Now that we’re betrothed, he may try to take more liberties. I’ll have to be more careful.
My father’s outlawed dagger is the only thing connecti
ng me to him, and the only thing that wards off my feelings of weakness, the ones Sebastian made me feel so prominently tonight.
A fresh set of tears brims in my eyes, and I close them, feeling the warmth trail down my cheeks. I only wish my father would have trained me to use the dagger. I’d have a better chance out there on my own if I had a different skill set. Hunting, fighting, anything to protect myself.
I won’t allow fear to deter me from my goal. Finding a way past the wall and a place of my own, wherever I must, is better than being a prisoner. My father preached as much as I grew up. Even if he, himself, stuck to most of the laws, he knew that being ruled by King Hart and living within this façade was wrong.
All these thoughts exhaust me further, and I climb into bed still wearing my undergarments, without changing into my nightgown. Before I lie down, the heart-shaped betrothal gift slips over my skin, its chilled silver causing my chest to ache.
Sebastian more than staked his claim on me as he arrogantly admitted that I belong to him now. A burning rises in my chest, and I clutch the locket. I yank it from my neck and hurl it to the floor.
I belong to no one.
NINE
Breakfast is awkward the next morning. Sebastian won’t meet my eyes, and he continually kneads his temples, likely trying to massage away the headache from his hangover.
I attempted to feign a headache of my own this morning, claiming the betrothal and celebration had taxed me. I pleaded with Madity to let me rest in my chamber all day. After tending to the cuts on my hands, she so worried that she threatened to call the castle physician. That was enough to get me out of bed.
Now I question my choice, the idea that facing Sebastian would be better than being probed. As I sit across from him, I remember the fierce glint in his eyes as he forced me to look into them, and I grip my fork. The hard metal cuts into my palm.
I must find a way to move past this. My behavior toward him last night was wretched, true, but it was undeserving of my being treated like a whore. I inhale deeply. I must forgive his actions, if only because he’s given me a new purpose. Something more than just becoming stronger and learning to use my dagger: become self-sufficient.
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