Earn his admiration. Join his court. Then dosomethingother than sit around and wait, like patronize an artist or musician. Maybe utilize a courtier’s stipend to support an almshouse for the sick and destitute. Finally, use the blood that ran through my veins to make a mark on this world.
With a nod, I acknowledged the man stationed near the entrance and clad in the king’s colors. Black and bloodred.
“Lady Elowyn Blackthorn!” he bellowed.
The show had begun.
Faces, whitened like mine as if we were all sickly, turned in unison like heads on pikes.Finally, they would get a good look at the king’s discarded daughter, the child of the Whore of Oakhaven, whom he had executed. The daughter he had stripped of titles when he proclaimed his marriage invalid. A cautionary tale in the flesh. Guilty of the most unforgivable crime known to man: being female. Especially reprehensible in the absence of a male heir.
I could practically hear Vega’s thoughts as she side-eyed me:Smile, Elowyn. You are a lady.
Years of banishment from court to a rural mountainside property of the crown made me forget that fact often.
“First, greet the king and queen. Remember to curtsy,” Vega advised. “Do not rise or speak until the king acknowledges you and be sure tosmile.”
There it was. I wanted to roll my eyes but kept my face in check. I knew all of this; it was practically carved into my skull at this point. But my governess was only trying to help. She knew just how badly I needed this to go well.
Quickly, I tipped my chin in understanding. Vega faded from my side without a word and I was on my own.
Wearing my practiced grin like armor, I walked across the room. I felt the weight of every guest’s eyes on me, compounded by the heaviness of the ridiculous, ornate gown Father had gifted me—likely meant to silence any rumors that I was unkempt. Even though I absolutely had been for the better part of my exile.
Vega had written to my father many times before about my need for proper financial support, but the letters were ignored. Like my existence. So we used what little stipend I received to pay for tutors. Not on clothes befitting my status.
Now, I could speak five languages, debate the intricacies of politics with finesse, knew all the great wars and the reasons they happened, dance the popular steps, and play an array of instruments, the virginal being my favorite.
Men bowed at my presence and women quickly curtsied in my wake. My heart beat in triple time. Their eyes on me felt so peculiar, yet even stranger,good.
I was a true lady, raised in a crumbling country house, and now these people couldn’t take their bloody eyes off me.
A hearty laugh boomed through the great hall, rumbling through me and seeming to quake my very world. The laughter of a king. He held a large tankard that sloshed as he toasted the man to his left. His face was full and ruddy, the same freckles that marked my cheeks speckling his, but his hair was a faded reddish-gray, lacking my fire.
For one brief second, he almost looked human. Less legendary in the flesh. His belly, fat and soft. His amber eyes that I’d inherited underscored with tired, sagging bags.
The queen at his side rested a hand on her swollen belly.
She was pregnant.
The sight sent a feeling like a small blade between my ribs.
Her lips were pressed into a thin, tight line as she nodded curtly to a short, portly man whispering beside her. Her yellow hawk’s eyes sliced across the crowd in my direction.
I mustered my strength, tucking away the feelings that cut and burned. I had prepared for this moment my entire life and I wouldn’t ruin it with feelings. Now was the time to show my father I was fit to be within his court. Because that was the only way I could secure any semblance of even minute power. The only way a bastard could make any impact in this country.
Make the king like you. Or die trying.
But another part of me, which I despised, secretly hoped he would also accept me.
Maybe even love me.If I was worthy.
I stepped closer, into his atmosphere, and the room silenced.
I curtsied deeply before the king and his queen, who sat above all. The weight of their gaze was heavy and judging. My muscles cramped and my soul ached in bitter embarrassment as I waited for him to acknowledge my existence.
The king finally spoke. “Who be this lady before me?” He was loud, his words not just for me but for all.
My heart clanged in my chest. I took a deep breath and commanded it to slow.
“It is I, Your Majesty, Lady Elowyn Blackthorn,” I said, still holding my pose perfectly.
