He turned to me.“And I’m assuming you’ve thought about who you want to rule beside you?You seem to have taken quite an interest in that Kallistar girl.What is it she has to offer you?”
I bristled but tried to keep my demeanor calm.I lifted an eyebrow.“Kallistar girl?”
Zandyr grinned, and I regretted playing dumb.“Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten her, the girl I was dancing with at the third ball that you cut in for?Can’t say she’s easy to forget.You seemed quite taken with her in that dress.I’ve seen you with your dalliances, not sure how you even managed those with your prudish tendencies, but I can tell this one is different.”
My throat bobbed.She was nothing more to me than an alliance that happened to have a pretty face.
But I needed to be careful—especially if Zandyr had picked up on our interactions.
I clapped a hand on his shoulder, leaning in.“At least we know one thing for certain—she definitely prefers me over you.”
He clenched his jaw, and I smirked, moving away.One of the servants carried a tray of pastries past me and I threw a longing glance at it.Howland would put a knife through my hand if I reached for one.
I frowned.If Analleia’s friend hadn’t tried to use actual poison on my uncle, it was possible the food was safe, but I wasn’t willing to risk it.I side-eyed another tray of pastries.It would almost be too easy to assassinate me if someone wanted to.Anyone who knew anything about me knew I possessed a weak spot for sweets.
I paused.
Did Analleia know that?
My eyes snapped up.I had yet to see her at the ball this evening, but I might not be able to pick her out in the crowd.She had startled me in my room last night, sidestepping my questions, and it was unnerving how she’d managed to sneak in without any of the guards noticing.
I circled my way through the ballroom, venturing into the smaller rooms but not finding any sign of her.
I scowled, confused at my irritation, but it was of no consequence whether or not she was here.
I had somewhere else to be tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Analleia
The press of the weaponsagainst my skin, secured within my clothing, brought me a sense of security and a level of comfort.No one would know I hid five deadly knives within my silver-studded tulle skirt or had another laced into the corset of the crystal-embedded bodice.No one would even suspect.
Except maybe one.
Richard Wylan Athello, also known of old as Prince Alekvandor and brother to King Zaricor, had yet to make an appearance at the masquerade this evening.I stared through my elegant blue mask embellished with lace and crystals, an array of feathers protruding from the top of it.I had scoured the entire ballroom—twice—and dared to venture to secret rooms in the palace I should not have, but found no sign of him.
