“Lady Suraya?” I glance up at a handsome young man standing before me. “I am Lord Reza Turan of House Aldebaran, and I will escort you inside, if it pleases you.”
“Thank you, my lord,” I say.
After I am announced by the majordomo, Reza takes my arm to enter the massive chamber, and I try not to gape at the grandeur. Floor-to-ceiling gold-trimmed windows and massive oil paintings adorn the walls, with artfully crafted flowers and golden vines climbing the marble columns at each corner. Eight glittering chandeliers hang at precise intervals, reflecting off the intricately mirrored ceiling and wainscoting, and sending sparkling prisms of light over all the dancers. In rich, silk-draped alcoves, plush carpets and tufted furniture offer places to sit, and towering hand-carved statues border the perimeter.
It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before, and a part of me sighs in wonder. Laleh would absolutely love the splendor of it all.
A refreshments room opens off the main chamber, and the polished dancing floor takes up the middle. An orchestra seated at the far end of the room plays a lilting melody. Reluctantly impressed, my gaze wanders over the space and to all the beautifully dressed courtiers milling about. They must be nobles and representatives from the various houses. Most of the chosen, like myself, have handsome escorts—young aristocrats like Reza who appear to be part of the court.
“Shall we take a turn about the ballroom, Lady Suraya?” he asks me politely.
This would be the perfect way to be seen. Despite the knot of tension in my throat, I smile and nod. “That would be lovely.”
Like the perfect gentleman, Reza leads me on the outskirts of the ballroom floor, and I hold my head high as we amble through the crowd. All of this would almost be enchanting, if not for the undercurrent of tension and fear permeating the air.
While we weave through the sumptuously dressed people, I notice that attention is coming my way... deeply envious looks from some of the other remaining contestants; hot, lustful glances from their male counterparts; and an especially admiring one from Prince Javed himself, who is sitting on a raised dais. Clearly, my handmaidens—and Laleh—know the prince’s taste.
When our promenade is finally over, I breathe a sigh of relief. That was much harder than expected.
I thank Reza, who seems more than happy to be done with his duty, and settle myself into a quiet corner for a moment. I keep a careful eye on the crown prince’s movements. Despite the occasional heated look in my direction, he seems occupied conversing with other nobles and occasionally dancing with a few of the chosen. I sample some of the sweets being served on silver trays—custards, pies, chocolate-covered almonds, dates, cakes, truffles—each one more delectable than the last.
Well, at least if I die, it will be with a full, sated stomach.
Just make it through to the next round, Sura.
Whenever I notice Prince Javed beginning to veer toward me, I move backward into the shadows and skirt the periphery of the room to find another secluded spot, keeping us always at opposites. The point is to earn enough of his attention that I survive this round, but not so much of it that I have to interact with him. So far, my evasive measures seem to be working. Finishing the last morsel of my coconut cake, I discreetly lick the crumbs off my fingers and summon a nearby footman with an array of drinks.
“Try this,” a low, familiar voice says from behind me, waving the footman away.
“I’m starting to think you’re stalking me, Prince Roshan,” I say softly. “First the maze, then my balcony, and now dark corners of a ballroom.”
“Can you blame me?” he says, and I turn to face him.
Startled by the genuine warmth on the prince’s face, I stare at the glass he has offered me. “What is it?”
“Elderflower liqueur.”
I’m not much of a drinker—having seen too many patrons at the tavern under the influence, I prefer to be in control of my wits—but I take the glass. Maybe it will help take the edge off the dread riding my nerves.
Swirling the drink, I take a cautious sip, surprised at the pleasant, smooth taste. I watch him over the rim of the delicate flute, noticing that he is impeccably dressed for the evening as well. Like the crown prince, he’s garbed in a charcoal tunic and trousers, the dark fabric threaded through with silver. The wide decorative sash at his waist displays the Imperial House seal of the golden sun, crown, and wings. He looks incredibly handsome.
Desire tightens my chest, and I take another sip that turns into an indelicate gulp. A warm, buttery feeling spreads through me on the heels of the honeyed liqueur. “It’s not bad.”
It’s bloody delectable, and I need more of it.
“You seem to be in determined spirits, despite this cat-and-mouse dance you’re doing with Javed.”
I’m not surprise he has noticed. I pull a face. “This mouse wants to stay alive.”
“Keep those opinions to yourself, especially in here where the walls have ears.” His voice lowers, a hint of scorn in it. “This is Javed’s party, after all, and you are one of his chosen.”
“The invitation should have come with a warning—death highly probable,” I whisper recklessly, and take another deep draft. “What’s your professional royal opinion of my chances tonight? Will I make the cut?”
I immediately regret asking, as an impish look breaks across his face, making his dimple appear and one corner of his lips crook upward. My pulse stutters.Sands, what in the pits of Droon is in this drink?It’s turning my insides into jelly.
“Fishing for compliments, Lady Suraya?” he says.
“Forget it,” I mutter.
