“You seem distracted,” Astoria whispers as we walk into the family breakfast room. It’s blissfully empty, no doubt most of the family is having breakfast in bed after last night’s festivities. “Did you get any rest after you left the ball?”
“A little. I went to the glasshouse after Prince Leland left last night.”
Her eyes light up, immediately homing in on Prince Leland’s late-night visit. “Did you get to know him better? Are you feeling more confident about the engagement?”
I shake my head quickly. “I was tired. He stayed for a few minutes, but I just wanted to be alone.” I should tell her about Kieran, but something inside me keeps me from speaking, knowing that not even my best friend and sister will believe me—that the man posing as Morris Blackwellisactually Kieran. I already know Astoria and Gabe didn’t believe me last night. I don’t need to embarrass myself any further.
After Kieran left, I took my time to calm down and think about what I should do next. The best I came up with was to ignore him. Keep our interactions professional and brief, and move forward with my engagement to Leland.
I’m not the only woman who’s had to unexpectedly face someone from her past, and it doesn’t change my situation. I don’t want anything to do with this man who lied to me, who left me, and let me think he was dead all these years.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, no one saw Mr. Blackwell after you left. Gabe is furious that he’d cause you such a fright. He was even muttering something about the need for a duel.”
My hands shake, and my ears ring at the thought of Gabriel and Kieran dueling. Maybe Gabe doesn’t recognize Kieran, but Kieran knows Gabe, and I can’t imagine him fighting his former best friend.
“Don’t say that, Astoria. The last thing I want is for Gabe to get in a fight with that man,” I mutter as I walk toward the sideboard laden with breakfast sausages, eggs, toast, and a delicious fruit salad filled with imported fruits from the kingdom of Malin to the south. My stomach grumbles at the scent, and I remember just howlong it’s been since I had a good meal. I fill my plate before taking a seat in one of the cushioned dining chairs.
“Can I ask why you thought he was Kieran Greenbluff?” Astoria fiddles with her spectacles, nervous to broach the subject. I should tell her the truth, but Kieran’s words echo in my mind—no one will believe you—and that probably includes Astoria.
“He looks like Kieran. It’s his eyes. And he called me Gen.”
Astoria doesn’t bother to disguise the shock on her face. “Gen? That’s rather forward for a man who’s supposed to be working for us.”
I nod, and we fall into a comfortable silence until Mother walks in.
We both stand and curtsy deeply as she gives a swift wave to release us. She marches toward the sideboard, a frown on her face. After taking her usual place at the head of the table, she finally addresses us.
“Good morning, girls.”Girls.At twenty-eight and twenty-five, we are both still just girls to her. We always will be until we’re wed—and even then, I don’t know how my mother will relinquish control over us, or over the kingdom for that matter. She’s bound by Naserian law to abdicate the throne on my thirtieth birthday, but there are times I doubt she will. I cannot imagine my mother in any role other than queen. My grandfather, the former king, seemed delighted to slip into retirement, moving to the coast where he spent his final years in quiet solitude. But Mother has always had more drive, more ambition to cling to power.
This is another reason I need this marriage. In her eyes, a married daughter has more legitimacy to the throne.
“Good morning, Mother. I hope you slept well.”
She gives a brisk nod before focusing on her breakfast. A servant pours her a steaming cup of tea before making herself scarce. Mother has dark circles under her eyes, though her hair and dress are immaculate.She’s tired, certainly, from the late night, and the strain on her face gives her a slightly imperfect air to her otherwise flawless presentation.
The door opens, and Prince Leland enters with General Pryor. Leland looks fresh-faced and smiles broadly. I didn’t expect him to be invited to our private dining area, but it’s not unusual for us to have important guests join us at meals.
Dread dips in my stomach. Would Kieran be given such privileges? I don’t want to see him in my family’s intimate quarters. I don’t want his presence overshadowing the only part of my home that feels like my own. But that’s what he’s already done, isn’t it? Coming into my glasshouse uninvited, something no one ever dares to do.
The nerve of him, thinking he still has a right to enter my private sanctuary, fills me with bitter rage. I think back to his insults, the way he perused my body and dared to say I didn’t understand what it was to struggle. What right does he have to make such assumptions? Especially after his remarkable rise to power, going from a gardener’s son to one of the wealthiest men in Inver.
“Good morning, ladies! Your Majesty! What a fine day it is!” Leland says with such earnest gusto it makes me cringe a bit. Mother’s left eye twitches slightly, the only sign of her irritation at being addressed in such a way after a late night.
“Good morning, Prince Leland. General Pryor. It’s so nice of you both to join us,” Astoria replies, all demure manners and bright smiles.
“Good morning,” I add, returning my focus to my half-eaten meal. I don’t even know how to meet Leland’s cheerful presence, knowing that I must marry him, even when my mind is so distracted by Kieran.
“Prince Leland, please feel free to sit next to Genny,” my mother says when she sees him heading toward the opposite side of the table. “We can loosen the rules of propriety here, of course. General Pryor,there are a few matters I’d like to discuss with you,” she adds, and he moves to the far end of the table, taking the seat beside her.
Prince Leland smells of freshly laundered clothing and clean male skin. It’s a warm, inviting scent—but nothing as captivating as Kieran’s, which haunted me throughout the night. Leland’s morning coat is pressed, his hair perfectly styled. He looks every bit the part of a prince and moves with a fluid agility that is objectively attractive.
I just need to get to know this man better. In my mind, I begin listing things I already like about him. He’s handsome, a skilled dancer, has an easy grace about him, and is a kind and cheerful man. All good qualities in a husband.
“I thought more about how I intruded in your rooms last night. I want to apologize. You were tired, and I shouldn’t have imposed on you,” he murmurs. Thick, light-brown lashes dip over his ice-blue eyes, and I can see how easily a woman could fall for his good graces and easy smiles.
“It wasn’t an intrusion. I invited you in—no apology necessary,” I insist, letting my gloved hand brush his arm. A small gesture, but I hope he sees I’m trying. “In fact, I’d be delighted to spend more time with you today.”
Before Leland can respond, the door opens again—and Kieran walks in. He’s wearing a black morning coat and black shirt with a black cravat: a dark expanse of a man who knows exactly how to make a statement. Like yesterday, his hands are ungloved, so unorthodox in courtly blueblood society. Ungloved hands are considered crass, something only working-class redbloods would do. Of course, that’s because most bluebloods’ gifts are more curse than blessing, and accidental touches can result in accidental releases of unwanted power.
