Alarik’s gaze darted, scanning the sea of faces around them before coming to rest on the doorway.
Why hadn’t she come?
Had he not made his wishes clear to her this morning? Or had his demand irked her, prodding at that willfulness she seemed unable to contain. Maybe she was staying away to teach him a lesson in manners. Or maybe he had spooked her by taking off his shirt in front of her. Then, pressing it into her hands, marring those perfect, slender fingers with his sweat. Could she tell in that moment that he had been imagining them not in his sparring room but upstairs in his bedroom, and that he was not the only one baring himself?
Had he frightened her with the unexpected rush of his desire?
Damn it, wherewasshe?
‘She’s over there by the window,’ said his mother, too easily reading the anxiety in his gaze. ‘See?’
Alarik glanced over to where Princess Elva was standing in a puddle of laughter, a gaggle of Gevran noblewomen hanging on her every word.
‘Yes, I see her,’ he said, returning his gaze to the door.
‘Then who are you looking for?’ There was a frown in his mother’s words.
‘No one,’ he lied, twirling her again. And again. And again.It was not enough to spin away her curiosity.
She watched him closely now, as though she was trying to read the lines on his brow. ‘Let me tell you a secret,’ she said, after a moment. Her smile turned small and sad, and she dropped her voice, in case someone else might overhear. ‘Even despite these long years of loss, a part of me still hopes that, even now, fate will undo its cruelty to our family and by some divine miracle, your father will come striding through that doorway, open his arms and sweep me up.’
Alarik grimaced at the words.
She went on. ‘I can’t help but notice that you are looking at that door the same way I am.’
He shook his head. He held no such delusions. Nor did he relish the thought of his father’s drowned and bloated ghost barrelling into his welcome ball and scattering everyone in an unholy panic, but he kept his voice kind, and said, ‘You mean, with hope?’
‘No,’ she said, softly. ‘With longing.’
He opened his mouth and closed it again. He spun her away, but her words lingered long after they changed partners, the music turning jaunty and light as the clock ticked ever closer to midnight.
And all the while, Alarik watched that door, willing her to come to him.
CHAPTER 18
Greta
Greta was just stepping out of her bedchamber when she ran into Nanna. It was late evening, and everyone in the palace was at the king’s welcome ball, dancing and drinking and rubbing shoulders with the noblefolk of Halgard. She yelped in surprise when the head servant came bustling around the corner.
Nanna took one look at her and frowned. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Uh, to the ball?’ She had been pacing in her room for an hour already, trying to summon the courage to go up there and honour the king’s invitation. But the admonishing look on Nanna’s face was enough to snatch all that hard-fought courage away.
‘You’re wearingthat?’ she said, aghast.
Greta looked down at her blue frock coat and black trousers. It wasn’t the most exciting outfit, but most of the senior palace guards, and Captain Vine herself, had opted to attend in their uniform. She had overheard them talking about it at lunch. And anyway, Greta didn’t have another option. She had, at least, washed and braided her hair into an intricate coronet atop her head and applied some pink rouging to her cheeks and lips.‘This is all I have.’
‘Your boots are scuffed.’
‘Only the toes.’
Nanna sighed, her gaze lingering on the missing button of her left sleeve. ‘Our beasts are in better shape than this.’
‘Well, if they are, it’s thanks to me,’ Greta felt compelled to point out. ‘And what does it matter if my boots are scuffed? I’m just a wrangler.’
It’s not like the king will care.
Or even notice me.
