“Excuse me, I must be off too,” Gabriel mutters, making for the door without another glance.
When it closes behind him, I turn to my new fiancé. “I apologize for my brother’s behavior. He wasn’t speaking for me.”
Leland smiles, and I catch the faintest hint of dimples. While his sister’s eyes pierce like shards of ice, his hold a gentleness that soothes, like a gently flowing stream.
“My sister can be a bit of a beast as well,” he says lightly. “This hasn’t been easy for her. She doesn’t want to lose me at her side, but as we’ve already discussed in our letters, the benefits of our union outweigh our families’ misgivings.”
“It’s for the greater good,” I agree, taking in the face of my future husband. He’s everything I imagined—kind, gentle, handsome.
And yet, all I feel toward him is a steady certainty that this will have to be enough for me.
It must be.
4
Genevieve
My body stiffens as I see Mother and Father’s somber expression greeting me at my rooms. They never have reason to come to my private quarters—not unless something is wrong.
“What has happened?” My voice betrays me; the nervous rush of what could be coming hits like a wave. There are only a few weeks left before I receive my blueblood gift. Nearly twenty years old, and already I’ve felt a heaviness beyond my years since Kieran’s departure. The day he betrayed me—leaving without explanation—was the day my heart threatened to shatter.
“May we come in?” Father asks gently, and how could I deny him when he’s treating me like spun sugar, all delicate fragility.
“Yes, just… what is the matter?” I ask, leading them to the soft settee in my sitting room.
Mother’s face reveals nothing, but Father looks on the verge of breaking himself as he takes the chair across from me.
“We received news—tragic news,” Mother says. Her tone carries a softness so foreign to the Queen of Naseria.
“What? Please, just tell me.”
She nods before continuing. “Kieran and his father have both perished in an accident.”
My heart thuds against my chest, breath trapped inside me as I fight to inhale against the restraints of my corset. I try to speak, but all that escapes is a keening cry—a sound I didn’t know I was capable of making.
“H-how? Where?” The words slip from me before the crashing weight of their meaning hits.
Kieran is dead. He’s never coming back to me.
The ballroom is resplendent tonight. Crystal chandeliers cast a luminous glow over the room, and every available space bursts with spring blooms—peonies and ranunculus, early season roses and cherry blossoms fill the corners with vivid color. As I walk down the marble stairs into the radiant ballroom, polite applause echoes through the room as everyone bows.So much for anonymity.The attention keeps me steady on the steps, and my younger sisters follow behind.
We each chose dresses inspired by birds for the masquerade. Marielle wears brilliant shades of yellow to represent the warbler. Her mask, encrusted with yellow topaz, is adorned with soft yellow plumes. The bright, cheerful colors match her ebullient spirit. Of the three of us, she’s the one who sparkles with bold grace. Despite hervibrant attire, I catch a glimpse of tiredness beneath her eyes before we don our masks, as if she’s once again struggling to sleep well.
Astoria chose a more muted palette: the pale greys and blues of the heron. Her soft silk gown cascades around her, a subtle beauty that suits my sister, who would prefer nothing more than to blend into the backdrop. Her mask has been fitted to accommodate her spectacles, concealing them perfectly. She’d never want the compliment, but I whispered how beautiful she looked before we took to the stairs.
I chose to match Prince Leland as a pair of swans. My white bodice is cut just low enough to reveal the top of my full bust, the lace overlay exposing the delicate ties of my corset in the back. The skirt is fashioned from thin strips of lace, gathered in thick bundles to imitate a swan’s feathers as it glides across the water. My hands are gloved in white silk that reaches past my elbows, leaving only a hint of bare skin at my upper arms. A pearl-and-feather mask conceals my face, and for once, I feel beautiful and mysterious.
Mother and Father are already seated at their thrones, each guest presented to them despite the supposed anonymity of the evening. There is a giddy eagerness in the air, as there always is during a ball, and I can’t help but feel emboldened by the atmosphere.
Mari and Astoria come to my side, each linking an arm through mine, their silk gloves brushing the bare skin of my upper arms.
“Do you see Prince Leland?” Mari asks.
I shake my head, scanning the crowd. Masks of every color and shape conceal the faces that bow to me. Of course, everyone knows who I am. My hair gives me away, even with the white mask. I recognize some of my dearest friends, including Lady Clementine.
“Most likely he and Queen Kalise are being inundated by courtiers seeking their favor and attention. It isn’t often we host another monarch,” I say as a servant offers us glasses of sparkling wine from aglittering tray. We each take one eagerly, and as I take my first sip, I spot the tall, stately figure of Leland’s friend, General Pryor. His dark skin and long white hair makes him stand out even amongst the dazzling crowd, despite his navy evening wear and blue-black mask. He looks decidedly Icelantican in a sea of Naserians.
I tug my sisters along, knowing that Leland will be nearby. But he isn’t speaking with Leland. He’s deep in conversation with a large, muscular man with olive skin and black hair—but it’s his eyes that make me gasp. Brilliant green, they stir a prickling awareness in me I haven’t felt in nine years.
