Vine was waiting for him at the end of the hallway, looking impeccable in her uniform, and with her hands dug into her pockets. She frowned as she looked him over.‘Whose funeral is it?’
‘Yours, if you piss me off today.’
‘Did you even brush your hair?’
He glared at her.
She flashed him a smile. ‘Oh, cheer up. Today might be fun.’
‘For whom?’ he groused, stalking past her. ‘Don’t you have somewhere else to be?’
‘No way,’ she said, matching him stride for stride. ‘I wouldn’t miss this for all the frostfizz in Grinstad.’
Alarik rolled his eyes but refrained from biting back. Despite his anger, he was glad not to have to face this particularly excruciating moment alone.
When he reached the top of the stairs that led down to the entrance hall, he paused to take in the bustle below. The Halgard delegation, which included a host of soldiers and courtiers, were milling about the atrium, admiring the tapestries and cautiously observing the beasts.
Alarik heard the trill of his mother’s laughter wafting through the air and thought for a moment he was hallucinating. The sound was so foreign to him now, he almost didn’t recognize it.
‘At least one of you is enjoying this,’ remarked Vine.
Alarik surrendered a sigh. Given the choice, he would always place his mother’s happiness above his own. It was just a shame that her joy this morning had to come at the expense of his. There was no sign of Lief anywhere. For all he knew, the meddlesome little turd was erecting a wedding chapel somewhere.
The dowager queen was dressed in a velvet gown of midnight blue, the silver-fur sleeves catching the light as she moved to embrace Princess Elva,who stepped through the doors of the palace with such confidence it looked like she had been living there her whole life.
‘Holy snow,’ muttered Vine, sweeping her gaze over the foreign princess.
Alarik glanced sidelong at his captain. ‘You’re drooling, Vine.’
She folded her arms. ‘This might be the only time in my life that I’ve ever felt jealous of you.’
Alarik snorted. Whatever spell had fallen over Vine had entirely evaded the king. He didn’t care how beautiful the princess was, how easily she glided into his palace or how effortlessly she commanded each conversation she stepped into, greeting his servants with the same warmth she had afforded to his mother. For more than a year now, the door to Alarik’s heart had been bolted shut. He intended to keep it that way. There was no princess on this continent, or any other, that could ever hope to open it.
He tucked his hands behind his back as he drifted downstairs, all the while assessing Princess Elva. She was certainly attractive, possessing the kind of beauty that reminded him of oil paintings from previous centuries. She was tall, almost as tall as he was, in fact, with thick golden hair arranged into a crown of intricate braids threaded with silver ribbon. On top, she wore a simple silver diadem.
Her gown was pale green. It tapered at the waist and had long, billowing sleeves that made her look ethereal. Her face was sun-kissed, with a strong jaw and high cheekbones to match the arch of her brows. She had bright teeth and brown eyes, the crinkles around them hinting at a merry disposition.
Princess Elva looked up from her conversation with Queen Valeska just as Alarik stepped off the stairwell, as though she had been subtly tracking his descent the entire time. They locked eyes across the bustling atrium, and a hush came over the hall, soldiers and servants drawing breath as they gazed upon this fateful moment – a meeting, not just of two future lovers, but of two kingdoms.
Alarik offered a small, practised smile as he came towards her. Princess Elva returned it, striding to meet him. She raised her hand, and he took it, barely brushing his lips against the back of it. Her gaze met his, and he startled a little. For what he saw there was not warmth or excitement, as he was expecting, but rather a strange sort of amusement, as though they had found themselves in the same game.
‘You are most welcome to Grinstad, Princess Elva,’ he lied, effortlessly.
She quirked a brow. ‘It is a pleasure to be here among your people, King Alarik.’
He sensed a lie in her words, too, but that perfect smile never wavered.
Valeska drifted over, taking Alarik by the arm. ‘My son, Alarik. Isn’t he handsome, Elva?’
Alarik winced. ‘Mother.’
‘I dare say I’ve never seen a more handsome Gevran,’ said Elva, with a smirk.
Valeska looked to Alarik, eyes shining. ‘And isn’t Elva a beauty?’
‘A rare treasure indeed,’ said Alarik.
Queen Valeska beamed. ‘You two must take tea together. After such a long journey, Princess Elva must be starving.’
