“It is,” Cedric agreed. But he felt the prickle of eyes on him and knew he couldn’t remain with her much longer. The reason for Cassara’s presence at court hadn’t been announced yet, and he couldn’t appear to favor a foreign princess over his own people. He sighed. “I’ll speak more with you soon.”
Cassara nodded, though her expression was more polite than excited. “I look forward to it.”
He stepped away, casting around for a safe place to continue this farce. If Cedric had to remain at this celebration, he was doing it on his own terms. Across the hall, he glimpsed a friendly face. Darius. Heaving out a soft breath, Cedric headed toward him.
As he slipped through the crowd, he caught snippets of conversation:
“…a war brewing, I tell you. The border patrols should be doubled.”
“…filthy beggars from Revendar flooding the city. We should shut the gates before we’re overrun.”
“—His Majesty clings to the idea of alliances, but sentiment won’t stop an empire. The boy is of age now. Perhaps it’s time Lunareth had a ruler who understands strength.”
Cedric clenched his jaw. The voices melted together, whispers and grumblings twisting between the strains of a violin. He exhaled slowly, forcing his hands to unclench. The petitioners in court earlier that week had included a mother and her two sons, their clothes ripped and dirty, bodies gaunt with hunger. His father had ordered they be given food and shelter. Their faces haunted him, and it took Cedric a moment to banish their memory.
Tonight was meant for revelry. Cedric plowed onward. The great hall’s vaulted ceiling stifled laughter and torch smoke alike, its soaring arches adorned with garlands of moonflowers already wilting beneath the warmth. By the time he reached the shadow of the banquet table’s carved griffins, sweat glued his linen undershirt to the hollow between his shoulder blades.
Darius waited as always, a study in effortless confidence, one boot propped against the column’s fluted base. He lifted his tankard in a salute, pulling his tunic taut across shoulders still lean from last summer’s growth spurt, but broad enough now to make Cedric’s throat dry.
“There you are, my Gilded Prince.” The tankard Darius thrust into Cedric’s hands sloshed liquid the color of a sunset. “Quite popular tonight, aren’t you?” Darius slung an arm around Cedric’s shoulders.
“I’d argue the party is more popular than I am,” Cedric said, the lie flavored with truth.
Darius smirked, tipping his tankard slightly. “Oh, but where would the fun be without its reluctant guest of honor?” He patted Cedric’s shoulder. Then his countenance shifted. “I can’t believe the Revendarian princess is still here. Shouldn’t she be running home with her tail between her legs?”
Cedric frowned, tapping his index finger against the tankard as he debated how much to tell his friend. Darius’s mother was the royal spy mistress, and Cedric knew Lady Valcairn knew why Cassara Marovelle was in attendance. But Darius’s comment implied that she hadn’t seen fit to enlighten her son, however.
He should know, Cedric decided. If for no other reason than to keep him from saying something that might seed future problems. “She’s here for a reason.”
“And that is…?” Darius cocked his head.
Cedric pursed his lips. “You’re going to have to keep this secret for a few more days. Can you do that?”
His friend grinned. “Oh Cedric, you have no idea how good I am at keeping secrets.” He eased closer, so close that Cedric caught a whiff of the fragrant soap Darius favored. “What is it? Are they being annexed to Lunareth, perhaps?”
“We’re to be betrothed later this week,” Cedric whispered.
Darius’s eyes widened. “Truly, Ced? We’re really going to have a marriage alliance with that kingdom? The one that can’t keep a bunch of unshaved barbarians from crossing their borders?”
The tone of disbelief and scorn instantly put Cedric on the defensive. “It would be mutually beneficial.”
“It just seems unfair, that’s all.” Darius shrugged. “You, of all people, stuck with a woman you don’t even…” He trailed off, giving Cedric an expectant look.
“My parents didn’t love each other at first, either,” Cedric reminded him. Though it was really more of a reminder for himself. In his heart, though, he knew he could never truly love Cassara. Not romantically; not the way she probably deserved. “But things have a way of working out.”
“Ever the optimist.” Darius’s expression slipped into a smile. “Well. I suppose I should be congratulating you then, shouldn’t I? Let’s drink to your future.”
Cedric’s thumbnail picked at the tankard’s pewter handle, a distraction from Darius’s close proximity. He hesitated, then pushed the drink back toward him. “Maybe another time.”
But Darius wouldn’t be dissuaded. “Ced, come on. This is special, just for your big day!”
Gods, Cedric always had a difficult time telling Darius no. He glanced inside the tankard. “What is it, dishwater?”
Darius laughed, a warm sound that made gooseflesh race across Cedric’s arms. “Hardly. It’s made of exotic fruits not found in our lands. Have you heard of pineapple?”
“Heard of it, yes. Seen one? No.” Cedric eyed the drink.
“Then you’re in for a treat. Taste.” Darius took a sip of his own, savoring the flavor with a sigh. “It’s one of several fruits. I think you’ll find it delightful.”
