Luna turned to find the prince standing directly behind her. He was dressed in a deep midnight-blue, the fine silk and embroidery catching the firelight in a way that made it seem almost woven with starlight. A tailored high-collared coat framed his broad shoulders, the gold accents subtle butundeniably regal. As always, he wore his ever-present smirk that made it impossible to tell whether he was amused or scheming.
The ladies curtsied, and he bid them to rise. His eyes lingered on Emily a second longer than everyone else before settling on Luna. “Enjoying your hat?”
“Of course,” Luna said with a dip of her chin. “Thank you again. It is much preferred to having servants follow me around.”
He flicked the feather. “I’d call this aselflessgift, wouldn’t you agree, Emily?”
Emily cast her gaze downwards, before looking up at him through her lashes. “One moment of generosity does not equate to a generous man.”
Cecil gasped. “Emily! Who are you to question Prince Kieran’s generosity?!” Cecil turned to the prince, stepping in front of Emily to block her; a not-so-subtle power move. “Please forgive my friend’s manners. Her mother grew up in the country, you must not blame her. Her opinion isbeneath us;do not mind her, Your Highness.”
The air shifted.
Luna and Venita shared a look, both clearly sensing the discomfort spreading through the group. The noble court was built on hierarchy, but ranking had little to do with birth and everything to do with status—something Emily understood better than most.
One could be born a maid and, with the right connections and cunning, rise to the title of lady. Whether respect came with that title, however, was another matter entirely. It’s why their mother worked so hard to ensure her daughters were beyond reproach, so that people like Cecil would have no choice but to choke on their own words.
Luna turned back just in time to see Emily’s expression darken.
Slowly, deliberately, Emily stepped sideways, slipping out from behind Cecil’s attempt at shielding her. She lifted her chin, her lips curving into the sharpest, sweetest smile Luna had ever seen. “My apologies,PrinceKieran,” She spoke with a practiced softness, yet each word was barbed beneath the polish. “Your kindness is known to all. Who am I to question it?”
What was she doing? Emily was not the type of woman to be humbled.
Before Cecil could bask in her supposed victory, Kieran tilted his head, studying her with that lazy sort of amusement he wore so well. His tone was light, but his words struck like a well-placed blade.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he mused, “but I do believe both of your fathers sit on my father’s council. By that logic, if Emily is considered lowly, then so are you.”
Cecil stiffened.
He hadn’t raised his voice, hadn’t even sounded offended—and yet, the insult was unmistakable. He’d leveled the playing field in a single breath.
Venita took a slow sip of her champagne, clearly hiding a smile behind her glass.
“Kieran,” he corrected, as if this was the thousandth time he had reminded Emily how to address him, and reached for her hand. She placed it in his and he softly laid a kiss upon it. “Given the history, I can understand your hesitation. But it should show that I am capable of taking care of all . . .”—he paused for a minute, as if searching for the correct term—“types.”
Emily dipped her head lower, her lashes fluttering just enough to feign humility. “I wouldn’t dare question what you are capable of,Kieran.”
She pulled her hand away, twisting the knife deeper as she turned—not away, but directly towards Cecil. Her brown eyes were cold as she held Cecil’s gaze for just a moment too long, letting the name linger like an aftertaste. The casual way she said it, the ease of familiarity; it was all designed to bite. The unspoken message was clear:I call him Kieran, and you never will.
Venita gently nudged Luna, grabbing for her hand and Cecil’s. “We’ll give you two some privacy.”
They wandered the ceremonial grounds, browsing the wares each vendor had on display. The entire time, Cecil did nothing but complain about Emily’s behavior, unfazed by Luna’s presence.
“I don’t understand what the prince sees in that girl,” she said bitterly.
“Love often isn’t explainable,”Venita replied simply.
“He isn’t in love—infatuated maybe. But love? Ha! Why would a prince, who could have anyone he wants, fall for a nobody.”
It was annoying how determined Cecil was on keeping the prince on whatever pedestal she had placed him. Was Luna really the only person who saw his awful side? She exhaled sharply and headed to a merchant’s table lined with fresh flowers. The ladies were in the middle of selecting some to send back to their houses when Rory approached.
He had eyes for only Venita, greeting her with a kiss on her hand, not sparing even a glance for Luna or Cecil. “Evening, beautiful.”
Venita giggled, a smile spreading across her face. “Evening to you.”
“Would you still be interested in that dance?” he asked, fidgeting with the hem of his dark crimson tunic.
Venita wrapped her hand around his arm and leaned against his shoulder. “I thought you’d never ask.”
