Prologue
Morning light spilled against the dark creature at the foot of the princess’s bed, its midnight scales glimmering like red wine. Its coiled, lifeless form lay in stark contrast against the damask rug—a dark blot that had nearly destroyed everything.
As Captain of the Princess's Guard, Cedric was duty-bound to protect the princess at all costs, yet he had nearly failed an hour ago. Crouching, he examined the blank, glassy eyes and fangs poised above its forked tongue. The snake was not native to Aurelion.
Cedric raked a hand through his disheveled hair. He had disposed of it before it could strike, but he was almost too late. It had come far too close.
Fear thrummed in his veins. If he had hesitated for half a second, the princess would have been killed. The dread that seized his lungs when he detected the snake’s fangs aiming for the princess’s throat still lingered. Her startled screech had saved her life.
Otherwise…
He shook his head, unable to stomach the alternative. Sparing any thought to thewhat-ifswasted time and energy he needed to figure out who had smuggled the serpent, knew when to strike, and how to get past his strongholds.
This was not the first attempt either.
Weeks ago, something lunged out from the bushes while the princess strolled on her morning horseback ride. The mare bucked so fiercely that she’d nearly been thrown to the stone pavers and trampled. It was fortuitous that she was a skilled enough rider to cling on; otherwise, she could have easily broken her neck.
The stable hands had called it an accident, but Cedric knew better. Whatever had spooked the horse had vanished without a trace. The timing was too suspicious, and something in his gut warned him to commit this event to memory.
Yet, the question remained. Who would want to assassinate Aurelion’s mostTreasured Rose?She was neither the heir nor a public enemy. What would they have to gain?
The king was right to be furious with him, but Cedric’s anger grew hotter. Anyone who had tried to kill the princess had a plan, and such plans often involved conspiracy.
He needed to act before the serpent’s master struck again.
Chapter one
Nin knew better than to long for things she couldn’t have, but she could make an exception for a delectable plate of pastries.
She leaned against the cool window, her fingers trailing against its smooth surface. Beyond the barrier, rows of sugared confections and powdered, flaky treats glistened. Her breath fogged the glass as she eyed some dainty macarons stacked onto a layered porcelain plate with tiny ducks painted on the edges.
She knew her only chances of tasting one were to sift through the garbage behind the pâtisserie and see if she was lucky, or to sneak in and nab one for herself. Nin heard that they came in a variety of flavors, and her stomach growled. She swallowed, shifting her weight to glance over her shoulder, but she was soon fixated on the sweets once more.
Did the sky blue macarons truly taste of the bluest blueberries? Were the soft pinks strawberry custard or raspberry cream? She couldn’t fathom what green would be, but she was certain the yellows would be a mouth-watering, tangy lemon.
If she stared any longer, the chef pâtissier would shoo her away, but the delightful medley of aromas enticed her to stay. Closing her eyes, she could almost taste the subtle bitterness of melted chocolate, the sweet notes of golden honey, and the buttery richness of flaky croissants. The heat from the ovens reached beneath her threadbare coat, and she pressed her cheek against the glass, savoring it as it stirred all the secret desires around her heart.
The bell above the bakery door jingled as two women skipped out of the pâtisserie. Nin straightened, stepping away from the window as their wide, hooped skirts barely cleared the doorframe, but she couldn’t resist admiring how their dresses shimmered in the sunlight filtering through the gray clouds. Delicate bows adorned their respective mint green and golden gowns, and a sparkling array of jewels decorated their fingers and long, pale necks. White powdered makeup matched their powdered wigs, curled to perfection. A dab of rouge painted their cheeks and lips, giving their alabaster skin a rosy glow.
They clutched blue boxes topped with curling pink ribbon, and the woman in the mint green dress opened hers, popping a red macaron into her mouth.
“Mm, the raspberry cream in this is divine,” she purred.
“Let me try the orange!” the other said and proceeded to dig into her box of treats.
Nin’s mouth watered at the sight.
A footman standing before a white, polished carriage started forward with an open parasol. He shaded the two ladies from the sliver of sunshine that might dare touch their skin.
Their delighted chatter came to a halt when they spotted Nin. She didn’t flinch when their wide stares swept over her scratchy, rough-spun wool coat and her baggy pants tucked into oversized boots, with thinly veiled disgust. A tight cap hid the length of her pinned hair, and thick wrappings bound her chest beneath the loose shirt. Their lips curled as if a rat crawled from the sewers and stood on its haunches.
“I charge five francs a minute if you wish to keep staring,” Nin declared, deepening her voice.
Their sneers darkened, and Nin wondered if they would form permanent frowns on their powdered faces.
The window rattled when a man in a white apron shoved the door open, causing the bell to ring frantically. The ladies squeaked in surprise when the chef-pâtissier raised a wooden rolling pin.
“Off with you, boy! You have no business here!” His cheeks, dusted with flour, flared red with anger beneath.
