As perilous as this arrangement was, he couldn’t help but be impressed. She had fire in her, and he didn’t doubt she would make good on that threat.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Luzie.” Liane signaled the maid, who watched this all transpire. She stepped forward with a piece of paper, a golden wax seal pressed into it.
“What’s this?”
“An invitation to tonight’s opera. I thought we should get started straight away.”
Liane didn’t realize it yet, but she’d given him exactly what he needed: that night, he would find the sword.
Opera invitations wererare and coveted. Much to Ivar’s chagrin, Erich was attending solo. If something went wrong, he didn’t want Ivar to get hurt. Joining the throng of guests, Erich kept his head down as they entered the grand entrance hall. A chandelier hung from the ceiling and cast yellow-orange light over the crowd as Erich scanned the room for Princess Liane. Before sneaking off to search for the sword, he had to hold up his end of the bargain.
A man in sky-blue and gold livery stepped out onto a balcony that overlooked the crowd and, in a booming voice, declared, “Presenting their majesties, Empress Eveline and Emperor Consort Alexander.”
Heads swiveled toward the stairs as the Starweber royal family descended downward. When he’d first arrived at Sundland’s court a young, naïve boy, he’d been enthralled by the pageantry of court life. But now, returning to it after years away, he saw it for the hollow spectacle it was. Royalty thrived on such practice, drawing the line between them and everyone else.
Erich was about to turn away in disgust when he noticed Princess Liane trailing behind her family. Her fiery-red hair was twisted up but for a few loose tendrils which brushed her freckled shoulders, exposed by her plunging neckline. When she tossed her head back, laughing at some joke Prince Mathias told, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.
The dragon rolled, tugging at his chains, its leathery wings extending, threatening to push free as it had been all afternoon since their talk. She must have felt his stare because she caught his gaze from across the room and held it. Heat suffused his skin, spreading out, stoking the flames of desire he must smother if he hoped to get out of here alive. When her ruby lips curled into a mischievous smile, it felt as if she knew what she was doing to him and enjoyed it. No. Breaking their eye contact, he turned away and loosened his collar, feeling as if it were tightening around him like a noose. No distractions tonight; even a seemingly harmless attraction could ruin everything.
Someone grabbed him from behind, spinning him around to face them. On instinct, he reached for his dagger but came up empty. Instead, he knocked Heinrich’s hand away, and they glared at one another.
“We meet again, Prince Erich,” Prince Consort Heinrich inclined his head slightly, but his posture was too stiff and defensive to be considered anything but offensive.
For his part, it took all of Erich’s self-control to not punch him in the nose again. Heinrich was lucky there were witnesses around. Opera guests fluttered past them, some watching with undisguised curiosity. Maybe that’s why he’d confronted him in public.
“Do you have something you wanted to say to me?” Erich said, relaxing his shoulders, though every instinct was telling him to fight.
“A friendly warning. You’re a foreigner, so you likely haven’t heard. The empress’ daughters are paying the price for her greed. They call it the Starweber curse. Princess Liane might look normal, but she’s often struck by fevers and horrific rashes. As a future king, you need a wife who can bear you healthy sons.”
A muscle ticked in Erich’s jaw as he envisioned his father saying those same words to him. They were cut from the same cloth. Erich had heard the rumors about both sisters; Aristea was supposedly barren, Liane plagued by fevers. But while he had a low opinion of Heinrich before, he hadn’t thought he’d go so far as to insult his wife to a stranger.
“I pity your wife,” Erich said, unable to hold his tongue.
Heinrich grasped a handful of Erich’s doublet and leaned in close.
“You don’t want to make an enemy out of me.”
“I’ll take my chances.” Erich grabbed his shoulders and squeezed hard, his fingers digging into his flesh. If he wanted, he could snap his clavicle, but he held back.
Pain flashed in Heinrich’s eyes, and Erich hated that he liked it. He wanted to see him suffer, watch him squirm under his boot as he squashed him like a worm. Erich let go before he gave in to impulse. The dragon wanted that, not him. It hungered for blood, and that feral madness would overcome him one day if he didn’t find a cure…
“Prince Erich, I presume,” Princess Aristea said, smoothly stepping between them, with a diplomat’s smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“And you are Princess Aristea? You’re the spitting image of your mother.”
“So, I’m told.” A small smile curled the corner of her lips.
He needed to get away. Petty small talk made his skin crawl. But as he turned to walk away, he found Liane standing behind him.
“Prince Erich, lovely to see you again.” She bowed in greeting.
“This is him, isn’t it? Your would-be suitor?” Prince Mathias joined them, and though his tone was light, his eyes raked Erich up and down with the same shrewd assessment he’d cast over him before.
“Surely I’m one of many,” Erich replied.
“You’d be surprised.” Prince Consort Heinrich cleared his throat, and Erich glared in his direction.
