She kissed his forehead. Then she turned as King William offered her his arm, and together, they started toward the great hall.
Too many expectations. The thought hissed like steam in Cedric’s skull.
The great hall glittered with a thousand watchful eyes. Courtiers swarmed like jeweled beetles, their silks shifting like oil-slicked water, and at the heart of it all, Cassara Marovelle stood among them—a striking figure in dark silver and blue.
The woman who would soon become his betrothed.
The word sat like iron in his stomach. It was meant to be a triumph, a political bond between Lunareth and Revendar, but all he felt was…trapped. Cassara met his gaze briefly, offering him a polite nod, before turning away to speak to a noblewoman draped in furs.
Cedric’s fingers found the now-healed scar on his palm, rubbing it as a distraction. He would have to go speak with her soon. It would be rude not to. But still, his gut clenched.
It’s what I must do. We both know this alliance isn’t for love. No, it was for trade and mutual protection. Already, the Avilisian empire was pounding on Revendar’s door. The ever-growing tide of refugees was proof enough that their western neighbor was soon to be in dire straits.
Gwenna’s punch to his arm demanded his immediate attention. His sister’s frown was a masterpiece of teenage disdain, her cheeks flushed under chestnut curls. “You look like you’d rather stab yourself with a dessert fork than be here,” she declared.
Ah, Gwenna. Her words cut through the room’s syrup, a welcome distraction.
“You’re not wrong.” He sighed, gaze sliding to a cluster of courtiers preening in silk monstrosities. One man’s lace collar could’ve doubled as a siege weapon. Cedric’s own collar chafed. “Where were you?”
Gwenna’s eyes widened in her best what-ever-do-you-mean? expression.
“I just hope you weren’t getting into the temple’s wine again.” Cedric frowned at her.
“Slander and lies,” Gwenna shot back. “That was one time.”
He snorted. “One time was probably enough to permanently put you on Aurenis’s dark side. What were you actually doing?”
Gwenna grinned, eyes glinting with mischief. “If you must know, I was borrowing a map from the war room.”
Cedric stiffened. “You what?”
“Relax, I’ll put it back later.” She grinned at him.
He gave her his best serious look, which had no effect on her. “You realize you’re telling that to the Gilded Prince, right?” If anyone found out, there would be questions. Uncomfortable ones. “You could get into real trouble for this, Gwenna.”
“I’m telling my brother who loves me dearly and wouldn’t dare breathe a word of this to anyone.” Gwenna’s grin broadened. “And hey, this is a celebration! So let’s celebrate!” Her lips brushed Cedric’s cheek. “Byeeeeee.” Her skirts hissed against his boots as she vanished into the crowd, a fox slipping into tall grass.
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. This celebration might be in his honor, but somehow, he didn’t feel as if he belonged at all. Cedric glanced around, noticing the gazes of several nobles land on him, as if judging the perfect opportunity to pounce on their newly minted Gilded Prince.
That was the last thing Cedric wanted to deal with at the moment. Perhaps it was time to seek out his future wife.
Cedric eased through the crowd, nobles slipping out of his path with respectful bows or curtsies. He nodded to them, smiling at Cassara as he approached.
Dressed in a flowing gown of deep blue with silver piping, Cassara Marovelle stood with the kind of stillness that commanded attention rather than begged for it. Embroidered patterns of stags and ivy gleamed along her sleeves—symbols of Revendar’s noble lineage—while a silver circlet rested against her platinum hair, catching the chandelier’s glow.
The Revendarian princess broke away from her current conversation to greet him. “Prince Cedric. Or should I say, Gilded Prince? Congratulations.”
“Thank you, though it’s symbolic more than anything else,” he said with a shrug.
Cassara raised a brow. “Symbols have power, Prince Cedric. Does your Gilded Prince ceremony not have roots in tradition?”
He blinked at the question, mind churning as he sought every bit of history he knew about the ceremony. “That’s what they say. It’s meant to sanctify me as the heir, to…solidify my role.”
Cedric stalled as she continued to give him an expectant look, seeking more than the little he’d offered. He cleared his throat. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m…” He hesitated, choosing his words. But if anyone would understand his current state of mind, it would be another royal child. “I’m overwhelmed and can’t think straight right now.”
His honesty caught her off guard. Cassara’s eyes widened, but then her expression softened. “I can’t fault you for that. Sometimes…well, this life is more demanding than anyone else knows.”
Her voice had become a whisper, the words for his ears alone. Cedric relaxed a fraction. Truth be told, he hadn’t been given a moment of time alone with Cassara, to get to know her. To discover if she might be compatible as a friend, if nothing else. Perhaps that might be a possibility. It gave him hope.
