“You told me you’ve frequented theaters during your travels throughout the other kingdoms,” I reply, eyes flicking back to him. “I’m sure you’ve met many beautiful women.”
He tips his head as if in thought, lets a hand run down the gold thread along his collar. “None like you.”
I know this too. There isn’t a single family line whose heirs are born with snowy white hair—that’s a Colier trait. I have had sonnets sung to me, artists who have painted my likeness as a white rose growing out of the Highbell snow. I have been praised since I was a little girl for my unique beauty.
I have also had many offers for my hand in marriage, but this time, it’s different.
This time, the man sitting across from me has charmed my father. And there are only two things that my father can be charmed by: power and wealth.
Tyndall Midas just happens to have both.
Leaning forward, I reach to pick up the teapot from the table in front of us and pour out more tea before I take a sip. It’s still warm, despite the fact that we’ve been sitting here talking for the past hour.
“So, is that something you like to do here? Go to the theater in the city?” Tyndall asks.
After taking another sip, I place the cup back down on the glass table. I can see both of our legs beneath, mine shrouded by the skirts of my white dress, and his encased in brown trousers, the buckles on his boots solid gold.
“I do not enjoy the theater perhaps as well as I should,” I admit.
He tilts his head slightly, making the flames from the fireplace cast his golden hair in an orangish shadow. “And why is that? I thought most young women loved watching plays.”
“But that’s just it, isn’t it?” I reply, stroking a hand against the hair that’s swept over my shoulder. “They’re playing. I get enough of people pretending on a stage while I’m at court.”
“I suppose I won’t ask you to attend one with me, then.” A wide, bright smile comes over Tyndall’s face. I have to admit, the sight makes my stomach flutter. I am not one to be so casually charmed. Another aftereffect from court adulation. Yet this is different. I don’t dislike his attentions. For one, he’s not from this kingdom, and therefore, he’s something new. For another, when he looks at me, it feels like he’s actually interested in me.
Unlike the other possible suitors, he doesn’t constantly meet with my father. Instead, he puts all of his attention on me.
“On the contrary,” I tell him. “I have a feeling I wouldn’t be nearly as annoyed as I usually am when I go with my ladies.”
When he smiles again, I find my own lips curling up too. The motion makes my cheeks hurt. I don’t smile very often. I’m not one to give fake grins or to simper. I only smile when the person or the moment truly warrants it.
Is this what it feels like to fall in love?
The smiling, the stomach tightening? I have no one to ask. Not with my mother dead and buried, certainly not with my father, who only ever speaks to me either from across a formal dining table or during a court function. I’d rather scoop out my own teeth with a serrated spoon than ask my simpering ladies.
I suppose the theater will be good for something after all. The romances played out on that stage are the only examples I can go by.
“You’d make a very fine leading man,” I tell him, eyes sweeping over his figure.
“Well, from what you’ve explained, there will be plenty of opportunity at court for me to try my hand at a good pretend.”
I let out a small laugh. “I look forward to watching your performance. Actually, you will be performing from what I understand?”
“Indeed,” he says. “If all goes well, I will present myself to your court with a formal show of magic.”
“I must admit, I’m especially excited to see it. From what my father has said, your magic is fascinating.”
“I’ll gild something just for you,” he says with a wink.
My heart skips a beat. “I’d like that very much.”
His smile softens, but when I reach out to grab my teacup again, he captures my hand instead. A gasp sucks through my lips at such a bold move, and my eyes dart to the right again to see if my ladies noticed, but thankfully, they’re actually keeping their heads down on their needlework for once.
“Your hand is quite cold,” he says quietly as his thumb skates over my skin.
“They’re always like that.” I’m embarrassed at how shaken my voice sounds. “Everything about this kingdom is cold. Its princess included.”
He hums beneath his breath, eyes locked on my pale skin, while I take the moment to be able to study his face. He’s handsome, there’s no doubt about that. With his clean-shaved face and arched brows and so much charm packed into a single expression. It’s no wonder my breath catches again when he lifts his eyes to mine.
