I weighed up the risks. I didn’t want to part with the pouch, but itwouldlook strange if I brought it along to my meeting with the king like some sort of peddler. I wanted to make a good impression. I needed to. Everything rested on it.
“Fine,” I conceded. “But I want it returned to me as soon as the meeting is over.”
“As you wish,” she responded impatiently, gesturing for the maids.
After being disrobed and led to a compact tub where my body and hair were thoroughly lathered and scrubbed, I was hauled out of the water and helped into a peacock blue and green satin gown.
Ingrid clucked at the tangled mess of knots that was my hair and insisted that the maids, “See tothatimmediately.”
Finally, I stood in the small room attached to the bathing chamber and looked in the full-length mirror. I was impressed. The gown was more textured and fabric-heavy than anything I had ever worn. It had a square neckline, long, layered sleeves and voluminous skirts that flared out from the waist. My charm bracelet was matched with a simple gold necklace and my hair—the color a blend of gold and pearl—was pulled into an elegant braided bun at the nape of my neck.
Unlike full-blooded Mer, I didn’t have gemstone-colored eyes. For the first time in my life, I was grateful for the mundane green-gray color that made it easier for me to pass as a mortal. It meant I wouldn’t have to waste my elementary powers on a glamor.
Ingrid returned. Circling me, she appraised every inch of my appearance with a critical eye, eventually nodding in approval. “I knew there was a beauty underneath all that muck,” she said, more to herself than to me.
“Thank you.” My attempt to sound humble came across as snarky. I would need to work on that.
She didn’t seem to notice, as she was too preoccupied with ushering me out the door. It was time to meet the king.
Chapter 9
I waited outside the wooden door of the king’s private drawing room. Doing my best to ignore the two guards standing sentry at the door, I smoothed the satin of my gown and resisted the urge to pace the halls.
The king would undoubtedly have questions for me. Most I was prepared to answer, thanks to the story I had invented. Others might not be so easily explained, like how I could have possibly rescued the princess from the perilous depths of the stormy water and survived. I would attribute it to determination and luck—I just needed to be convincing. Everything rested on my ability to trade well-crafted lies for their trust.
I thought back to my lessons with Doran about the mortal continent of Anerdor. I had complained about it at the time, but it turned out to have its uses. From memory, Solvardunn was a land of rugged coastlines, sweeping hills and verdant forests. The kingdom was peaceful but commanded formidable forces and a particularly impressive fleet. Like all mortal kingdoms, it had no ties with the magical continent of Amaros, and its population of magical beings was believed to be marginal.
I was snapped out of my thoughts by the sound of the door opening. A spindly, older man dressed in fine, black clothing appeared on the threshold. Immediately, his needle-like limbs, wispy black hair and matching eyes made me think of a spider.“His Majesty will see you now,” he said, his drawl verging on boredom.
Inhaling a calming breath, relaxing my shoulders and raising my chin, I followed him into the room.
My first impression of the drawing room was that it had a cozy quality that alleviated some of the jitters dancing around my stomach. It was furnished with upholstered chairs and elegant settees adorned with cushions in varying shades of blue and cream. Heavy velvet drapes framed the windows and an impressive hearth housed a fire that warmed the entire room.
Seated in the settee closest to the hearth, wrapped in woolen blankets, was Princess Amalie. Next to her sat a handsome man around my age with watchful, brown eyes, like an owl.
A tall figure stood facing the hearth, and a third man sat in an overstuffed chair at the head of the room. He had the same shade of eyes as the one seated next to Amalie, though his dark hair was peppered with gray. His gaze was indecipherable, but he had a presence about him that was both commanding and inviting. I didn’t need an introduction to know that I was staring into the face of the King of Solvardunn.
I bowed deeply, dropping my gaze to the rug beneath my feet.
“Presenting His Royal Majesty, King Rikard the Third of Solvardunn. His Royal Highness Prince Tarben”—I stiffened— “His Royal Highness Prince Hugo, and Her Royal Highness Princess Amalie. Your Majesty, this is…?” The spider man looked at me expectantly.
“Alara, Your Majesty. Alara Veradis,” the first lie spilled eloquently from my tongue.
In a deep, measured voice, the king said, “You must forgive the informal nature of this meeting, this day has been… tumultuous.” A flash of pain crossed his eyes.
He gestured to the seat opposite him. I sunk into the supplearmchair. Aware that every set of eyes in the room was assessing me, I schooled my features into a pleasant yet deferent expression. A pair of blue-green eyes beckoned to me.
When my own eyes strayed from the king’s face to steal a glance at the person they belonged to, my breath caught. The man by the hearth had turned around and he was even more handsome in person.
The king continued. “My daughter says you rescued her from the shipwreck and swam her to safety. Is this true?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I responded demurely, risking another glance at my target.
Prince Tarben looked a few years older than me. He shared many of his father’s features, although his were softened by his golden hair and bright eyes. Unlike his father, his presence warred between benevolent chivalry and roguish charisma. Was he as charming as he looked? If all went according to plan, I would soon find out.
The penetration of his gaze caught me off guard. Pretending not to notice, I focused on the king.
“Well, in that case, we are eternally indebted to you,” he said.
