“You two like a lot of the same stuff,” his friend pointed out. “Sparring, boring strategy gam—oof!”
Roman cut him off with an elbow to the gut and reached out to keep him from falling down the stairs. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He steadied his friend and went back to his puzzle.
Ares rubbed his stomach and wisely changed the subject. “I’m going to have a bruise.”
He held up the now star-shaped puzzle with a face splitting grin and tossed it to his best friend. “Good.”
Later that night, Roman stared at his reflection in the mirror and adjusted his green royal coat. Every kingdom had a royal color, and he’d always liked the vibrant green of the Tropical Kingdom.
Facing away from the mirror, he scanned the room. Hanging clothes, two mirrors, and multiple cabinets housing his various shoes and accessories lined two of the walls. He plopped down on one of the plush benches in the middle of the room and stared glumly at the other two empty walls where his mate’s things would one day go.
He grabbed the collar of his coat and tugged. When he inherited the throne, his first order of business would be a new style of coat because these itched like crazy.
Roman added “wearing uncomfortable clothing” to the growing list of reasons he hated formal events.
No amount of begging would get him out of this one, though. Tropical Kingdom tradition dictated that royals host a ball on the heir’s milestone years: finding their mate at thirteen, gaining theirfamiliarat fifteen, marrying their mate at twenty-two, and ascending the throne at twenty-five. To his detriment, his mother loved parties and said she would start throwing him one every year.
His mother, Sarah, walked into his dressing room in a long green dress to match his and his father’s coats. “Are you ready, honey?” Her blonde hair, the same color as Roman’s, resembled a weird ball on the side of her head, and it poked him in the face when she hugged him.
Roman pulled out of her grasp and tried not to look sullen. “I’m ready.”
After being announced and led into the ballroom by the king and queen’s royal guard, Roman’s mother kissed the top of his head. “Go tell your friends hello and meet us on the dais.”
If Roman tried to find Ares in the crowd, dozens of people he barely knew would stop him for a chat. Hiding seemed like a better option. Nodding to his mother, he turned on his heel and strode toward the nondescript side door leading to the smaller balcony.
Guests seldom used the small balcony because it had no view other than the tropical trees beyond the palace walls. The main balcony overlooked the gardens and was a party favorite.
He closed the door behind him, crossed to the railing, and stared out into the colorful trees. Roman had never traveled to the Human Kingdom because magic bound him to the Tropical Kingdom until he was twenty-five, but he’d seen pictures. Their trees and plants were dull compared to the rainbow foliage in the fae lands.
An amused voice interrupted his thoughts. “Are you hiding too?”
I know that voice.Roman pushed back from the railing and turned toward the shadows on the far end of the balcony. He stepped closer and made out the faint outline of a person perched on the railing. “Violet?”
Fabric rustled and shoes slapped softly against the ground as the shadowy figure jumped down. “Were you expecting someone else?”
Roman’s retort died on his tongue when Violet stepped into the light. Her reddish-dark hair, normally twisted back, hung in loose waves around her face with a small crown of light purple flowers resting on top. Had she put something on her eyelashes, or were they always that dark? He didn’t know, but they looked nice against her blue eyes.
Her lips looked more pink than usual, and instead of the loose dresses she wore to school, the dark purple gown she wore hugged her upper body tightly. She reminded him of a faerietale princess.
Roman swallowed hard and pulled at his collar, unable to form words.Gods, she’s pretty.
Violet adjusted the flowers in her hair. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
No excuse came to him, leaving only the truth at his disposal. “You look pretty.” His shoulders eased, and he tried not to grin when her cheeks flamed in response. She blushed a lot. “Why are you hiding?”
The pink receded and she lifted a brow defiantly. “I asked you first.” Her shoes whispered against the ground as she stepped closer. “Are you nervous about tonight?”
He ran a hand through his hair and winced. His mother would kill him for messing it up. “I hate big celebrations.”
Violet’s head tilted to the side. “Really? You seem like someone who would enjoy the attention.”
He frowned at her. “Why would you think that?”
“You’re always surrounded by a group of people.” She hung her hands on her hips, daring him to argue.
Stepping closer, he leaned forward and stage whispered, “Are you stalking me?”
Violet dropped her arms and fluffed her skirt without meeting his gaze. “It’s hard to miss large groups of people.”
