by Jeanne Allen
Most of the unkind gestures I received tonight seem to stem from displeasure, prejudice, or a general dislike of my person. But the look Nadira shot me was pure hatred. She harbors ill will toward me for a reason, and I need to uncover that reason before I find myself alone with her Royal Huffiness.
After meeting the princess, the rest of the evening goes smoothly.
Eventually though, I find myself hopping from foot to foot to relieve the pain in the pads of my feet from standing too long in the pretty, but uncomfortable, shoes Jin bought.
“I’m going to rest for a moment,” I tell Lucas, my current babysitter, pointing to a grouping of comfy-looking couches settled into a corner of the ballroom.
“Oh, okay. I’ll sit with you.”
Bless him. My Goblin tries his best to mask his disappointment, but I don’t need his Gift to realize he’d rather go join the laughing group of Phósopoi youth by the punch table.
“Go. I’ll be fine.” I make a shooing motion with my hands.
“You sure? Because I can totally—”
“Go,” I say firmly.
“I’m not supposed to leave you alone…” His reluctance to let me go wanes when I push him toward his friends.
“Go!” I shout, laughing.
Lucas doesn’t need any more convincing. With a quick peck on the cheek, he bounces off to probably get us all into trouble. Hobbling over to the chairs, I allow a groan of relief to escape as I sink into the plush leather. I rest my tired feet and enjoy the haven of silence and solitude for about five seconds before being interrupted.
“Tired already?” Nadira asks. Despite her polite expression, her words manage to sound condescending.
I arch a brow. Is being tired after a night of dancing a sign of weakness for the Phósopoi? I hope not, or goodbye to over half the pretty shoes in my closet.
When I don’t respond she asks, “May I join you?”
I really do mind, but I wasn’t about to say so. Especially to a princess. Hoping I’m not obligated to curtsy or offer the traditional greeting more than once, I gesture to the couch I’m camped out on.
She floats down into the spot next to me. That’s the only way to describe it. Floating. So effortless and beautiful. For a moment I wish we were friends so she could teach me how to sit like that. Then I remember she hates me and resign myself to awkwardly collapsing into couches for life.
Nadira was blatantly antagonistic earlier, but now her tone is decidedly friendly, though how genuine remains to be seen. There’s no way she happened to come across me in this dark corner during the only time I’ve been alone all evening.
“So?” I arch my brow again.
She settles into the couch and turns to me. The silk embroidery on her dress crinkles as she positions herself to look me in the eye. “I’m going to be honest with you because you seem like you don’t know what’s going on.”
She uses a patronizing tone, but she’s not wrong. I don’t know what’s going on. My hand waves in the air in a symbol of “go on.”
She smiles. “Since Jax is too polite to say this to you, I’m going to be the bad guy so he doesn’t have to be.”
Warning bells ring in my ear. Call me paranoid, but I’m guessing I won’t like what she has to say. I’m irked at her use of a nickname that shows her obvious familiarity with my Kladí, but I put it aside. Curiosity grips me in its vices, but I’m unable to stop her now.
She must sense victory because she brightens before launching into her speech. “When we were younger, everyone assumed Jax and I would be part of an Omás. We got along so well, and our status and power levels are nearly equal.”
She pauses, as if this information is supposed to upset me.
When I don’t show the appropriate response, she continues with a little less enthusiasm. “When I Awakened as a Kladí, it was assumed Jax would be my Agora. Everyone was anticipating the powerful Omás we would make. But when Jax Awakened as Kladí as well, we had to come to terms it was not meant to be.”
Her eyes hold genuine sadness. What would it be like to believe you’re destined for someone, then be proven wrong? My hackles rise at her agenda for coming to me, though. There must be more to it than her strong feelings for Jackson.
“Alas, we reconciled ourselves with the fact he was in such a powerful Omás. First with the Assassin, and then later with the others, each powerful in their own way.”
Oh, I know where this is going now.
“We, me especially, eagerly awaited the arrival of the Agora fit for such a powerful Omás.” She reaches out to take my hand, and I let her because I don’t want her to be under the impression her petty words upset me. “What I’m about to say might seem harsh, but it’s for your own good. You’ll thank me, someday. We were expecting someone powerful, someone worthy of such great men. But when I met you today, honestly, I was shocked. I realized there must have been a mistake.”
It’s as if she studied every teen flick out there to get the part of frenemy down perfectly, patting my hand and offering me a too-wide smile as she deals the next blow. “Don’t worry, it happens sometimes. My guess is you’re not fully Phósopoi. Half-breeds are rare, but they are possible.”
I perk up at the revelation. Out of everything Princess Greater-Than-Thou’s said so far, this might be the most pertinent.
She notices my attention and smiles encouragingly. “It might also explain why you look the way you do.”
Ugly. She means ugly. She doesn’t say it out loud, but her eyes leave the meaning clear as she skims my face and body. Unfortunately for her, the logical part of my brain knows beauty is highly subjective and culturally driven. While the insecure part of me takes a blow, luckily that part is rather small.
I’m able to shake it off and smile at her as she continues. “So, you see, there has been some sort of mistake. Luckily, you haven’t Bonded yet. There’s still time to reject the pre-Bond. I’m sure you agree this is for the best. Powerful people should be with their equal.”
Oh, Princess Peach did not disappoint. An Oscar-worthy performance. Problem is, how do I respond without offending a very powerful Royal? I can’t tell her how powerful I actually am; the guys hid my power level for a reason. I have to trust them.
I adjust my gown, staring at the beautiful beadwork while I come up with a response.
“You know as well as I do, Princess Nadira, that the Mists do not make mistakes.” A male voice speaks from behind. I refuse to break my staring contest with the princess to find who it belongs to. “Rose is every bit Jackson’s Agora as you, decidedly, are not. Stop trying to create trouble. It’s unseemly.”
Nadira’s face grows hard, and she opens her mouth, but the man cuts her off.
“For Mist’s sake, you’re old enough to act with decorum! Maybe I should speak with your father about re-enrolling you in the Academy.”
At the mention of her father, Nadira’s face pales to a light tawny brown. “That won’t be necessary,” she bites out.
She turns to me expectantly, like I should defend her or something.
When I say nothing, she huffs and stands. “We’ll discuss this later, Rose. I’m afraid I have others requiring my presence at the moment.”
She sounds like we’d been discussing the latest fashion trends or court gossip instead of how unsuited I am for Jackson. Then, she flounces off gracefully, like an angry ballerina. I watch her go for a moment before allowing myself to face my savior as he takes Nadira’s empty seat, which awards me a prime ogling position.
His curly, light-brown hair with streaks of gold sits in an orderly fashion under a thin silver circlet. His eyes, when they meet mine, are the same forest-green as his brother and father. His powder-blue and white sash and family crest solidify my suspicions about his identity. He’s shorter than Jackson, with more squarish features that resemble Consort Daniel. He’d be considered handsome by those not already pre-Bonded.
For me, like with every male since I met my six, I find him pleasant to s
tare at, like a statue or a movie poster.
“You’ve probably figured out who I am.” He smirks, and unlike the Royals I met today, including the queen and his brother, his features hold a certain honesty. He doesn’t even try to hide his emotions behind a mask or title.
I like him right away.
“Jackson’s older brother? The Crown Prince,” I supply.
My companion grins and offers his hand. “Well met, Sister Agora. I’m Nathaniel Evans, Crown Prince of Region Two and bane of my mother’s existence. No, don’t get up—” He holds his hands up to stop my attempt at a curtsy. “Let’s pretend you groveled enough to satisfy our ridiculously outdated traditions. I’d rather like us to be friends, anyway.”
With a smile, I shake his hand. “I’d like that. Well met, Brother Prince. I am Rose Christensen, Agora.”
I grin, secretly proud of myself for not messing up the introduction. One evening, and I’m already sounding like a real Phósopoi.
“Thank you for defending me,” I add.
I could have told Princess Delusional off myself, but it would have put me in an awkward position. Nathaniel’s higher rank allows him to say whatever the sugar-honey-ice-tea he wants without Nadira running off to daddy.
The man waves his hand dismissively. “It was nothing. She deserved it, the viper. You shouldn’t be alone, though. Where are your Kladí?”
His question reminds me that I am alone. I remember forcing Lucas to go to his friends. It’s not like they abandoned me. But for some reason, the man’s question unsettles me.
“I can take care of myself,” I mutter, though I scan the ballroom for a glimpse of where they might be.
I spot Lucas still by the punch table, laughing with his friends. I point to him. “I was with Lucas, but I told him I needed to rest. Jackson is with your mother.” I point to where I find him standing stiffly by the queen. “Forrest and Jin left for something outside.”
They invited me to join them, but by the looks of the guys they were leaving with, I was better off not knowing what they were up to.
“I don’t know where Sebastian is, and Lyle…” I scan the room before I find Lyle being talked at by a tiny blond girl wearing a skimpy black dress and combat boots.
“Lyle is being cornered by Sarah Taylor,” Nathaniel finishes for me.
“That’s Sarah?” I ask, incredulous. She’s a lot tinier than I imagined. Somehow, I can’t fathom why a little thing like her scares a giant like Lyle.
Nathaniel laughs at my expression. “She may be tiny, but don’t get on her bad side. She’s vicious.”
At his shiver, I cast a sympathetic look toward my Kladí. I need to find out their story as soon as possible. But there’s a different story I want to hear first.
I turn back to Nathaniel. “What’s the deal with Nadira and Jackson? I know they grew up together and everyone expected they’d Bond.”
Nathaniel sits back in surprise. “Jackson told you that?”
“No. Nadira did.” I taste the bitterness on my tongue. Jackson and the guys failed to mention a lot of things before tonight, but this one chafes the most.
Nathaniel stares at his hands, clasping them in his lap.
He’s about to refuse to tell me, so I lean forward to catch his eyes. “Please. Jackson didn’t tell me anything. He had his chance, and he left me unaware and vulnerable. Please tell me so I at least know what I’m up against.”
Nathaniel sighs and grumbles, but begins the tale anyway. He knows his brother messed up. “My brother and Nadira have always been close. It was a miracle that the monarchs of Region Two and Thirteen, the only overlapping regions, birthed children at the same time. I, myself, am nearly one hundred years older than Jackson.”
I gasp. I shouldn’t be surprised at this point, but it still takes me a moment to come to terms with the fact I’m chatting with a man a century my senior.
Nathaniel doesn’t seem to notice my outburst. “As the years went by, their close friendship turned to romance, as it often does with adolescents. In our culture, dating is expected and encouraged. But there’s always the reminder that the relationships are fleeting. Practice runs for the real thing with your Kladí or Agora.”
He explains things carefully, like he expects me to be jealous. Not that I like the idea of any of my Kladí with other women, but I’m realistic. I’m glad they didn’t wait around for me, especially Jin. Otherwise I would feel even more guilty we didn’t meet sooner. I shudder as I try to fathom how many girlfriends Jin had in the time he waited for me.
Were any of them serious? Did he wish any of them were his Agora instead of me? I pinch myself to stop the flow of negativity threatening to destroy the self-confidence I worked so hard for.
To distract myself away from the melancholy, I tune back into Nathaniel’s story. “Everyone was so shocked. Jackson and Nadira were so sure, and so they convinced everyone else they would Bond. But when Jackson Awakened as a Kladí, it was doubly certain they were not to be.”
Nadira said the same thing, but I didn’t trust anything Princess Steal-Your-Man said. I sigh, trying to process the story I now heard from two sources.
Nathaniel and I eye each other for a moment. He carries the same sense of authority as Jackson and the queen, but a bit more subdued. He reminds me more of their father, more apt to listen than speak, but when he does, others pay attention.
He breaks the silence by reaching out and covering my hand with his own, long and elegant fingers squeeze gently, another similarity with the younger prince.
When I glance up, his face pulls into a grimace, his eyes heavy with his next words. “Be careful, Rose. Nadira is a powerful enemy, and she’s not the only one you have.”
Before I form the words to demand an explanation, he stands and walks away, his movements lithe and silent.
Blowing out a sigh of frustration, I clutch at the ruby hanging from my neck, trying desperately to contain the turbulent emotions that threaten to break through.
Anger builds from the pit of my stomach. I’m not often angry. Life taught me to let go of petty squabbles and callous words. Truthfully, the thing with Nadira doesn’t bother me. Being left in the dark about what she and Nathan told me makes my blood boil.
My Kladí forgetting to show me proper etiquette is one thing. From their stories, I gathered my Omás never made human-born, Phósopoi friends before, so they can’t be expected to remember every single thing they ought to teach me. Yes, the etiquette mishap I can forgive.
But neglecting to tell me about Nadira? Not warning me about her and other enemies I potentially already have? They led me in blind, right to a trap. My cluelessness about her existence allowed Nadira to play with my emotions.
Unacceptable.
I don’t want to fight in front of all of Jackson’s relatives and subordinates, so I resolve to confront him tonight when we return home.
Gathering my skirts, I head in Lyle’s direction, intent on saving him from the vicious blond pixie.
Chapter 12
Sarah Taylor is like no one I’ve ever met. She’s a study in contradictions. Her small stature and dainty features make her look angelic at first glance, like her brother. But as I get closer to where she holds poor Lyle hostage, I notice a hardness to her gaze and a rigidness to her muscles that screams warrior.
Her warm brown eyes sweep over the room, checking the exits, the people, while all the while engaging in an animated conversation with my Kladí. Her white-blond hair is shaved on one side and long on the top, sweeping over one eye to give it a punk-rock feel, complemented by her chunky boots and short black dress. She wears a thin, black sash like Nadira’s, but with the same Warrior-line crest Sebastian wears.
“Hey.” I interrupt the two, sidling up to Lyle who reaches out to put an arm around me, his thumb doing that circle thing I’ve grown addicted to.
To my surprise, the small woman turns a brilliant smile my way, her eyes glittering like Lucas’s when he finds a particularly amusing way
to torture someone. She sticks out her hand. “You must be Rose.”
A little taken aback by the lack of traditional greeting, it takes me a moment to shake it. When I do, she claps my hand and pulls me in for a tight hug.
After releasing me, she exclaims, “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined! My brother lucked out with you; wait ‘til mom gets a look. She won’t want to give you back.”
Unsure what to say, I stutter a quiet, “T-thank you.”
Sarah’s grin grows wider. “I’m Sarah, Sebastian’s sister. He’s got a lot of them, just to warn you. And we’re all a bit much. Don’t stand on ceremony and all that. I’m the only one who’d left our region in generations. Besides Sebastian, that is. But, of course, you know he’s special.”
“Special?” Sebastian’s powerful, but Sarah makes it seem like there’s more.
“Yeah, he’s the first Kladí of the Taylor line to be born with an Agora in five hundred years. The first boy, too.”
“Five hundred years? That’s a long line of females.”
Sarah shrugs, the glint in her eyes turning her from Tinkerbell to a more Puck-like fairy. “Our Agèma Line is one of the finest. You’ll be able to tell when you see the rest of us. Just a warning, Mom is already chomping at the bit to meet you.”
She flashes me another devilish grin before waving goodbye and bounding off to the other side of the room where other Elite’s mingle.
“Harpy,” Lyle mutters under his breath.
Despite my anger at how the night has gone, my lips twitch at Lyle’s dislike of the female Taylor. Now that I’ve met her, I see that there’s no real malice to his tone, more like the exasperated annoyance of a brother.
Rolling my eyes at their complicated relationship, I grab Lyle’s hand and tug him over to Jackson, who left the queen’s side in favor of leaning against a far wall.
Perfect.
When he notices our approach, he pushes off the wall and offers one of those sunshine smiles. My steps falter, and I almost forget how annoyed I am with him. With the whole lot of them. But Jackson doesn’t smile like that for no reason. I approach warily.