King Gallor lifts his goblet, his tone carrying easily over the table. “You disappeared last night, right in the middle of the lovely ball,” he says with a knowing gleam in his eye.
Before I can form a response, Queen Nemesia adds lightly, “Princess Celeste was also nowhere to be found.” She arches a brow, her jeweled fingers drumming against the table, as though she’s amused at the implication.
“Ah,” Gallor says, his smile sharp as he leans back in his chair, “young love. To be able to find each other after so much sorrow… it is one of life’s great gifts.”
Laughter ripples down the table, a few heads nodding in agreement.
I force the corners of my mouth upward, a shallow echo of their amusement, but inside, my chest is tight. My pulse hammers in my ears.
“Sit,” King Silas says, looking up at me.
I reluctantly obey, settling stiffly into the seat to his right. The air feels heavy around us, weighted with things unspoken. I tear a hunk of bread from the basket in front of me and chew without tasting it, my eyes flicking to the door with every sound.
She’s just late.
She’ll come sweeping in, slightly breathless, cheeks flushed from sleep or from hurrying, the usual sparkle in her eyes when our gazes meet. That confident stride that always has me buckling to her will. We’ll exchange longing looks, and she’ll lick those luscious lips of hers, getting me instantly hard and making me think about how her greedy mouth was wrapped around my cock last night.
I clear my throat, pouring myself some steaming kahva to sip on until she gets here.
Any moment now.
Silas glances at me. “Something troubling you, boy?”
I school my features into neutrality, swallowing down the tightness in my throat. “Nothing, Your Majesty.”
His eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t push. He simply grunts and returns to his meal, carving another bloody piece of meat with a flick of his wrist.
I force myself to sit through it, each passing second scraping againstmy nerves. Every moment that ticks by without her arrival feels like another stone piling on my chest. My stomach is too taut with nerves for me to eat. I pour myself another cup of kahva and tap my finger on the rim as I wait.
The door opens, and Princess Orida enters the room. My shoulders slump. She’s not Celeste. She will never be Celeste. I don’t even bother offering a polite smile because the truth is I don’t give a fuck about any of these people. Not really. The only person I care about is not here.
After what feels like an eternity, I push my chair back and march out of the room. To hell with civil conventions.
My strides are quicker now, carrying me back through the corridors. A bead of sweat trails down my back despite the chill. I shove it away. Overthinking it will only make it worse.
Maybe she’s with Nadya.
I reach her rooms again and let out a sigh of relief when I see Sir Holden approaching.
“Good morning,” I greet him.
He inclines his head. “Your Highness.”
I’m still not used to the title. “I’m looking for Princess Celeste. Is she—?” I point to the door, not finishing my question.
“She should be,” he answers. “I only stepped away for a moment to relieve myself. If she’s not here, she’s probably at breakfast.”
I shake my head. “I just came from the dining hall. She wasn’t there.”
I don’t wait for him to respond; I knock on her door, hoping she’s just sleeping heavily. Still nothing.
Heart hammering, I turn to Sir Holden.
He gives me a nod and raps on the door quickly before twisting the handle and pushing the door open. “Your Highness?” he calls out.
I step past him, but the room is empty.
The bed is untouched, the covers neatly folded at the corners. Her brush lies on the vanity, a few strands of dark hair still caught in its bristles.
