I tried my best not to look at Taran. My palms sweated against the armrest of the seat. I’d done nothing to earn this, to be here. I was a fraud.
Nicolas leaned forward and spoke very carefully.
“An interesting addition to our court, wouldn’t you agree?” he said, and something in his tone made me feel more like a show pony than his fiancée. “She’s taken a vow to speak to no man other than her prospective husband. Her silence ensures our secrets remain safe, while her common birth appeases those who claim we’ve grown too distant from our subjects. Sometimes the best alliances come from unexpected quarters. Besides, the crown demands more than pedigree from its consorts.”
I winced at his detachment, but I knew he was acting intentionally flippant. Beside me, Queen Adelaide gave him a strange look, but she didn’t interject. I thanked the gods for that small mercy, hoping no one would say anything else to draw Taran’s attention to me. The queen gestured toward their seats at the right side of the room, and the trio sat.
I found Quinn watching me at the door. Just as soon as I noticed him, he turned his head. “And now I present Duke Augustine of Demagret.”
Nicolas flinched. The wood of his armrest creaked beneath his grip, and I swore I heard a change in his breathing, though he didn’t appear any less tranquil than he’d been moments before.
The Duke of Demagret entered the dining hall with the easy confidence of a man who had charmed his way through life. His dark hair, touched with distinguished silver at the temples, was swept back from a face that bore the golden kiss of the Hadrian sun. His features were sharp and aristocratic, but most attractive of all were his deep-set eyes, dark like aged wine and crinkled at the corners. Despite what must have been at least five decades oflife, there remained something vital about him, a magnetism that explained the whispers that followed his announcement.
“Duke Augustine,” said the queen, an unmistakable delight in her voice. “The cold of Gallae will never suit you, old friend.”
“Nor you, my queen; would that I could convince you to visit sunny Demagret,” the duke replied coolly, his Hadrian accent dotted with trilling r’s and flirtatious rhythm.
“Then you would require even stronger convincing to get me to leave.” Queen Adelaide seemed oddly amused by his antics. Her eyes twinkled as he produced a strange plant from behind him, spiny and oddly reminiscent of a fabled dragon’s egg. As he set it before the queen, she took it into her hands to marvel.
“I recall you had a particular fancy for my island’s fruit at your wedding. There is plenty more where that came from, and now that there is to be a wedding, I have cause to request a few more shipments.” He turned to wink at me, then sauntered down the line to the prince. “Prince Nicolas! My, how you’ve grown! What a difference seven years makes. And you are the spitting image of your father, though you have your mother’s eyes!”
Nicolas seemed distant, as if he could see right through the foreign man. I touched his hand, snapping him out of it.
“Hello, Duke Augustine,” he replied quietly. “Seven years, and you look just as I remember.”
“A decade hardly matters after a certain point,” the duke agreed. “But! I should not keep the court from their meal any longer.”
He bowed and found a chair on the left end, and at last, lunch was brought out. Just as he’d said, an assortment of unusual fruit accompanied the rest of the meal—long, yellow fingers all conjoined at the knuckle; gilded orange creatures with strange green crowns, spiky and uncomfortable to the touch. The queen’s dragon fruit opened up to reveal a milky white flesh dotted with black seeds.
I prodded at the strange foods. From how quiet Nicolas remained at my side, I might have thoughthewas the cursed one. He barely ate by the time the plates were cleared, and he didn’t stick around to chat. I watched him leave, noticing the rigid posture of his shoulders and the briskness of his step. I wanted to go after him, but forced myself to remain seated for an appropriate interval to avoid making a scene.
When I reached my chambers, I wasn’t entirely surprised to find him within. He chewed his nails and watched the window as if he expected someone to appear in the courtyard.
I dismissed my ladies-in-waiting and approached the prince, placing a hand on his back. “Nicolas…?”
He turned slowly, bringing his hand down from his mouth. His relief was tangible. “Alana.”
“You’re petrified.” I touched his cheek. He was impossibly cold, as if he’d gone outside and planted himself in the snow. “If it’s about the Banewights, I think you did a good job of handling them, though we should discuss a strategy—”
“It’s not about the bloody Banewights,” he snapped. Regret painted his features just as quickly, and he took hold of my hands. “I’m sorry, my love. Will you walk with me?”
I nodded, though it was hard to ignore the way he’d raised his voice. We left the room, ascending to the top floor and then heading for the observatory towers. A brisk chill blew down the spiraling stairs, and by the time we reached the top, it was all I could do not to curl up and share the prince’s body heat beneath his cloak.
He went ahead of me, standing at the edge and looking over the palace grounds. I slowly approached him once more to take his side.
Then, with little warning, he sprang onto me, enveloping me in his warmth. His hold was too firm, but I couldn’t protest him with such terror in his eyes. This was no act of lust; he needed comfort, and I obliged him, my hands rising to touch the space between his shoulders.
I held him a while before speaking, giving him time to breathe me in. “It’s all right. Whatever it is, I’m right here.”
Nicolas’ grip tightened as if he was fighting himself. When it began to falter, his whole body shuddered in self-protest. Finally he spoke, his voice muffled against the furs on my shoulder.
“I’m about to tell you something only three people in this world know: my mother, Quinn, and myself.” He pulled back just enough to look at me. “Promise me you’ll never betray me, Alana.”
I searched his eyes. It was a hell of a gamble for him to make, to place his trust in a woman he’d abducted and made a murderer of. But hecouldtrust me; I’d told him before, we were in thistogether. His enemies were mine, as were his burdens. “You have my word.”
His words fought him every step of the way. “Augustine of Demagret is a Hadrian who resisted the merging of Antier. He fought for their independence, but couldn’t gather enough support and ultimately accomplished nothing on that front. The last time I saw him, I was fourteen. He’d stayed for a lengthy visit after my father’s passing, but left for home with suspicious urgency. It was just before my…”
His voice cracked. He tried to move away, but I held him fast.
