But I cannot.
Not here.
I must swallow my hate, let it burn quietly in the hollow of my chest, because this is the best way to keep Delasurvia safe.
I meet his gaze, steel beneath my carefully controlled features. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
The king smiles wider. A perfect performance for any watching eyes.
Beside me, Dante exhales softly through his nose.
“Look sharp,” King Silas says. “Our guests are arriving.”
Music hums from a small ensemble tucked in the corner, the melody airy yet charged, as if the strings themselves sense the shift tonight carries. The king ushers Dante over to a distinct area near the entrance, and the queen follows along, eventually taking her place beside her husband.
I had been so transfixed by seeing Dante that I hadn’t really taken a moment to admire the ballroom. It glows under a canopy of chandeliers, their crystals dripping like frozen rain, scattering light across the polished floors and silk-draped walls. Nadya reappears at my side, and it takes me a second to realize that she had momentarily slipped away.
“Where did you go?” I nudge her with my elbow.
“Lady Stacia told me the other realms’ rulers had arrived, so I had to take a peek. You should see how many carriages are lined up outside of the castle.”
The doors at the opposite end of the hall open with ceremony, and all in the Hederan court stare in wonder as the Podrosan delegation strides in. King Harold leads them, towering and as rigid as an iron gate, his crimson cloak clasped at his shoulder with a medallion of the black thorns circling a silver sword. His expression is chiseled from stone, the faintest nod of acknowledgment his only greeting. At his side, Queen Agatha glides forward, her dark-brown hair coiled as tight as wire, her lips pressed into a diplomatic curve that never quite touches her eyes.
Their daughter, Princess Orida, moves just behind them, impeccable as ever in a deep-red gown trimmed with black lace, her golden hair plaited into a long braid down her back. She surveys the room until her eyes land on Dante. I can see her cheeks redden as she inclines her head to him.
It’s not jealousy that makes me uneasy. She doesn’t yet know that Dante is betrothed to me, but that’s about to change with the Silas’s announcement. I actually feel compassion for her. I’m not sure if the announcement will cause her heartbreak, but if she has already started making plans based on a future with him, it will surely hit her hard.
Lady Marette follows, a soft smile lighting her face despite the small, swaddled bundle in her arms—her newborn son, no doubt, born since our visit to Podrosa. The lord at her side—whom I presume is her husband—keeps a careful hand at her back.
Then comes Lord Marcos, and I almost wish I hadn’t looked. His eyes catch mine across the distance, and his face changes when he sees me. I see the hope in his eyes, especially as he takes in my gown and acknowledges that I’m not in mourning anymore. Again, my stomach twists with sympathy, knowing that I will fundamentally be rejecting him once more. He wears a black doublet embroidered with crimson threads, his clothes matching those of his parents, who walk beside him. I force myself to look away.
A pair of Ironshield soldiers flank the rear of their group, their presence a reminder that Podrosa never arrives without a measure of power on display.
Next, the Bastos queens emerge, a vision of elegance and inscrutability. Queen Ambra, bronze-skinned and draped in shimmering, purple silk, smiles with the ease of a serpent coiled on a warm stone. At her side, Queen Eosla matches her stride, her hair an even brighter blue than it was when we left the Baharat Palace. Their smiles are impeccable, but with them comes the faint sense of secrecy, as if they know something we don’t, and they can’t wait for us to find out. Or maybe it’s simply their torrid desires giving them an air of mystery. I breathe a sigh of relief that at least their nipples aren’t on display foreveryone to see. This is Dante’s day, and he could do without the Bastos queens stealing attention away.
I catch Nadya watching them with keen interest. Her Bastos blood, particularly the sorceress element, has become her new obsession.
Then Queen Verina of Messanya enters, adorned in an elaborate, pearl-white gown, flowing like a cresting wave. She carries herself with the grace of an aria’s final note, half of her platinum hair pinned high, the rest hanging in coiling tendrils. When her eyes sweep the room, they land briefly on Dante, and though her expression softens, I can’t tell if it’s approval or something else entirely.
Finally, the triarchs of Mersos arrive. The two kings and solitary queen wear forest green trimmed in rust red, their eyes keen and assessing. While the other rulers absorb the scene, King Gallor meanders toward the nearest serving tray, lifting a goblet to inspect the vintage like a merchant examining a harvest. Queen Shaylin places a hand on his arm to pull his attention back to the celebration, but King Birchus only chuckles under his breath.
“They’re inspecting the food,” I murmur to Nadya.
She grins. “Of course they are.”
I sweep my gaze across the assembly, feeling the weight of their presence settle. Allies, strangers, potential enemies. A part of me wonders what it would have been like if the fae of Alphemra had come?
The question sneaks unbidden into my thoughts. Although they are known for ignoring invitations to such things, I don’t even know if King Silas considered reaching out to them. The fae keep their distance, their mountain-shrouded courts steeped in secrecy. But still… I imagine them shimmering like specters beneath these chandeliers, their beauty otherworldly, their power a palpable hum beneath the music.
I shake the thought away, just as Nadya leans closer. “This is surreal. Almost all the nobles of Terre Ferique in one place.”
My eyes go to the king, knowing he’s about to make his speech. “Very surreal.”
As most of the guests take their places at various tables around the edges of the ballroom, Princess Orida separates from her family, makingher way toward Dante. I stiffen, wondering if she’s approaching him to flirt and throw her hat in the ring as a potential match. Her smile is modest, but the look in her eyes tells a different story. Dante has always been a handsome man, and his height and build no doubt contribute to his appeal. But now that he’s a prince, there’s an added quality I’m sure our guests find magnetic.
I’ve always found him appealing, even without the title. Which makes me question what Princess Orida actually sees in him.
She curtseys before the king and queen, her lids lowered slightly as she gazes at Dante.
