Rodrigue chuckled, the sound slightly strained to Nin’s ear, “Thank you, however I do not know what inspired your compliment.”
Adelina paused near the pond’s edge, her eyes dancing with mirth. “It’s because a memory came to me suddenly. Do you remember when we were children—I think ten years old, was it? We were chasing each other around this path, and Princess Marianne fell into the fountain?”
Rodrigue gave a half-hearted laugh. “Yes—and I pulled her out.”
“It was quite the sight,” Adelina said with a tinkling laugh. “She was sopping wet, and she nearly tripped again. She resembled a miserable fish!”
Adelina playfully swatted Prince Rodrigue’s arm, and he offered a hesitant smile in return.
Nin bit her tongue, barring the sharp replies she wished to let loose. These weren’t her memories, nor was the space between them, it seemed, yet annoyance pricked beneath her skin. How could Adelina talk about the princess as if she weren’t present?Nin even knew, rules of etiquette aside, that her behavior was rude among the common folk.
Protocol also dictated that she navigate these circumstances with grace—a feat Nin found increasingly challenging as they continued past tall hedges. She laughed or added a comment when required, but a quiet suspicion began to coil within her. Perhaps there was more to Princess Marianne’s relationship with her cousin than Cedric had disclosed…
Or perhaps he hadn’t seen it at all.
The next evening, nobles, dignitaries, and visiting princes filled the glittering parlor, their cordial chatter and clinking glasses a soft murmur against the music flitting in the air.
Dozens of settees, chaises, and chairs faced the front of the room where a grand harpsichord and golden harp stood for tonight’s entertainment. The gilded, paneled walls reflected the soft glow of candles wavering in candelabras. One by one, a nobleman or noblewoman was recommended personally by someone of higher rank to play before the court.
Nin sat on one of the cream-striped settees, attempting but failing to focus on the performers when the queen sat beside her. Occasionally, the queen would glance in her direction and whisper an approving remark on theperformance. Prince Rodrigue stood near the hearth across the room, holding a glass of wine and laughing at something another prince said. Too many eyes would be on her if she made one wrong move.
The room's temperature was surprisingly comfortable, even with so many people packed inside. There could only be one explanation.
An enchantment.
The magical luxuries never ceased to amaze her.
A duchess finished playing the harpsichord, and the last notes lingered in the air. Polite applause followed and died as quickly as their attention spans would allow.
Then Adelina rose from her place.
She dusted her skirts, her hands clasped delicately over the floral silk, and her smile brightened. Conversations dwindled as the room’s focus shifted toward Adelina. Curious whispers flitted behind fans as nobles waited to see who the foreign princess would recommend for the next act.
Adelina turned on her dainty heel, her eyes settling on Nin with quiet satisfaction. Across the room, Rodrigue’s laughter faded.
Nin’s fingers tightened over her fan. Her heart sank before Adelina opened her mouth.
“I know who must play next,” she said sweetly, her smile lingering a moment too long. “You must sing for us, dear cousin.”
Murmurs of agreement swelled around her.
Nin’s stomach pitched violently. “I don’t believe it wouldbe—”
“Oh, don’t be so modest,” Adelina cut in pleasantly, as though saving Nin from embarrassment. “You’re such atalentedsinger.”
The reminder snapped like a trap around her core.
Every head turned in her direction, including the queen beside her. Their eager smiles shattered any means of escape. Refusing would not be considered modesty. It would be avoidance. An insult. There was no other choice.
Nin stood, her legs shaky under her wide skirts. Her palms grew clammy as she began the dreadfully short walk. The rug swallowed her reluctant footsteps; the silence pressed in on her like a prisoner awaiting trial.
Her ribs tightened, every nerve flaring alive when she reached the front of the room.
Slowly, she turned to face the dozens of nobles lounging on chaises or standing shoulder to shoulder along the walls to fill the empty spaces. The queen sat in the first row, her unflinching stare pinning her to the spot. She was the true judge of this show.
Maker, help me, Nin silently prayed.
Rodrigue’s smile by the hearth did little to comfort her. Her pulse skittered beneath her skin, coating her insides with dread.
