Her smile is perfectly measured, touched with warmth, but not too much. “Should any of you require anything—fresh linens, tailored garments, a bath drawn to your liking—our staff is at your disposal.Dinner will begin promptly at seven. We hope that will give you ample time to rest and prepare.”
“Then we can begin the main event tomorrow,” King Harold adds. “Bright and early.”
‘The main event’?I suddenly fear the Podrosan royals plan to parade Dante through the streets of their land for everyone to judge.
King Silas offers a gracious nod. “Your hospitality is appreciated.”
Queen Eleanor inclines her head to her, the softest of smiles gracing her lips.
As the courtiers begin to shift and the room starts to loosen its rigid spine, I turn just enough to glance behind me. Lord Marcos, still standing off to the side, meets my eyes. He gives me a polite, wordless nod—just enough to be noticed, not enough to be scolded for presumption.
The chamberlain steps forward with a bow. “If you’ll follow me.”
Beside me, Nadya leans closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “This place is like one long rulebook come to life.”
Dante shifts into motion, but before he takes his place beside his father, he casts me a silent look.Mine.
It’s so hard to not smile as I fall into step with the rest of the royal party. The sound of our boots echoes faintly through the cold halls of Ironshield Keep. A fortress that doesn’t bend. A castle built to demand control—and crush anyone foolish enough to test its rules.
As I cast one last look at the coffers in front of the dais, a thought occurs to me. The fine gifts King Silas brought to the Podrosan royals might not be symbols of gratitude for their hospitality. Knowing the lengths Silas would go to in order to get his way, I don’t think it would be wrong to call those gifts a bribe.
ChApter
Twenty
There’s nothing special about the room I’m given at Ironshield Keep. The walls are plain concrete, there are no curtains framing the windows, and the bedsheets are a boring white. Aside from one side table next to the bed and one cushionless, wooden chair, the room is devoid of furniture. There isn’t even a mirror for me to check my reflection, and I don’t have Nadya to let me know if I have bags under my eyes because they’ve separated us.
At least there’s a fireplace to keep the room warm, though this one looks as if it hasn’t been used in ages.
I probably should rest, but the room is too dull and so compact that I feel the walls closing in around me. After I’ve paced the room ten times, I know I have to break out of its confines. My body has been in a state of rest for too long, trapped in a carriage not spacious enough to stand in, and this place isn’t much bigger than that. My muscles need attention, and I need to hone my skills.
When I open the door, Sir Holden glances at me from his post.
“Your Highness?”
“Sir Holden, I need to train.” I keep my eyes on him, steeling myself for an argument, butnone comes.
“Let me see what I can do.” With a curt nod, he turns and marches down the corridor.
Thankful that the servants already delivered my trunks to my room—and surprised that they fit—I search for some trousers and a tunic I know I can move in. I’m expected to be wearing my mourning dress, so I pull my long cloak over my clothes and fasten it in case I come across anyone in the castle.
But I can’t take another minute in this room, so I head for the hall. When I open the door, I’m met with a familiar face. My eyes widen, first from surprise that she’s standing at my door, and second because of the significant swell of her belly.
“Marette?” I step out to greet the woman who used to be engaged to my brother.
Before he died.
Before he succumbed to a madness that she didn’t know how to handle.
She dips into a partial curtsey, her hand on her abdomen. “Your Highness.”
“No, please. It’s just ‘Celeste.’”
We were never so formal when she lived at the castle in Delasurvia. It’s why I didn’t call herLadyMarette. She was meant to be my sister-in-law. And up until she called off her engagement to my brother, we’d become close.
I don’t blame her for leaving. The madness that claimed Bennett was a frightening thing to watch. There’s still a chance it could claim me. I can only hope that this buzzing feeling that runs through me when it chooses to means I’ve escaped the madness. But I guess that’s yet to be seen.
“I apologize for not being present for your arrival,” she begins. “I wasn’t feeling well and was bedridden.”
