The procession of wedding guests slows to a stop just past the doors, where castle guards check each name on parchment. A flurry of titles in multiple languages streams past their lips. Most are Danish and German.
Hertug. Markis. Greve. Friherre. Baron.
Herzog. Pfalzgraf. Markgraf. Reichsfreiherr. Herr.
I tuck in behind two maids heading in the direction of the marble balcony. I don’t know where Alia will be, but if the king truly is the man of habit that Alia witnessed, it’s as good an assumption as I can make.
But an assumption, a smile, and a passable dress only get me so far.
“May I help you?”
I freeze at the sound of a man’s voice, calling to me from the intersection of the hall I just passed. I reset my smile and check that my chin is held high before presenting myself.
I grit my teeth and turn... and it’s him.
The boy from the balcony with the nice smile and hushed tones.
Will.
Light brown hair, combed nicely to the side. Blue eyes like the tide in dusk. Broad shoulders that remind me of Father more than they should.
I brace for an admonishment, the story I’d prepared on my journey here ready on my tongue. But then Will tosses that handsome smile at me, and I realize I’m not a suspect—he’s trying to be friendly. My luck is so stunning that I fumble over my words for a second. “I—I, yes,” I say. “I’m looking for Alia.”
His mouth wavers a bit, and I recognize my error. I swallow and try again. It would help greatly if he didn’t look at me like that.
“Excuse me, let me try again,” I meet his smile. “My friend,” I start, because I know Alia can answer yes or no questions, and she might have said she was without a family. “She’s been missing two days, and I’ve tracked her here. She’s unable to speak, but her name is Alia.”
The boy’s eyes light up, and there’s a devilish crinkle to his nose. “Oh, yes, I know exactly who you’re talking about—I think everyone this side of Lille Bjerg Pass knows.” To my relief, a small laugh escapes the boy. “The king will be pleased that you’re here...”
He trails off, and I realize he wants my name. “Runa. I’m Runa.”
“Runa the rescuer,” he says with another little laugh, and a warmth spreads across my belly because he doesn’tknow how right I hope he is. “I’m William, but you can call me Will.” He extends an arm, his jacket dark and perfect. “Come with me. I just left them.”
I take his arm, and for some reason that makes it more difficult to walk. As if I’m thrown off-balance by the mere closeness of him. I’m not the type of girl who prances around on a boy’s arm. It strikes me as for show, and maybe it is—a castle like this and a king like that and maybe everything is put on like a moon play.
Will walks me through the castle, all the while making small talk, and I’m grateful because he’s inadvertently giving me hints that are enough to adjust the story I have in my head about who Alia is and where she came from.
“He found her washed ashore two days ago, wearing this old ball gown. Niklas—the king—said it looked like she’d stepped right out of an old photograph and onto the sand.”
The warmth in my stomach grows when I realize that maybe the sea witch hadn’t sent Alia into the lion’s den completely unprepared—she hadn’t given me clothes to cover my own nakedness, but the witch must have shared a relic from her day to keep Alia from stumbling onto the beach nude. I suppose that was a kindness.
“She has a particular love of yesteryear fashion... and dancing.”
“I’d say Niklas appreciates both.” He laughs again, but then lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Honestly,if it weren’t my own cousin marrying him, I’d have mistaken her for the bride. He’s quite taken with her.” I work to keep my features calm—if only the magic had given her forty days and not four. “But don’t tell Sofie that or she’ll toss me off the balcony.”
Will guides me up a staircase and down a hall, and just as we’re about to head into what looks to be yet another ballroom, Alia sweeps into the hallway too. Her face is pointed toward the floorboards and is a wreck—unprepared for company, and definitely not for me.
I warn her the only way I can. “Alia! Oh, my darlingfriend, I was so worried about you!” I untangle myself from Will and rush to her as her head flies up. I catch her in an embrace, and, before a reaction can spread across her face, it’s buried in the crook of my neck.
“I’m here. It’s going to be all right. Please don’t be mad.” I squeeze her one more time. “Smile.”
We part, and Alia presents herself to Will. Suddenly her eyes are alight—animated.
“As soon as I heard where you were, I came looking. Did not a one of the hofdames make it?” Will perks up at the court term for ladies-in-waiting.
I’m unsure if they’ve asked Alia of her heritage, but I know one thing—if she’s in love with a king and staying at his castle, we must make sure she’s invited to this stupid wedding. A whiff of nobility is the best way to go.
Alia shakes her head, and I moan dramatically at theloss of the ship and the people, and that my friend was alone for so long. I really should’ve heeded Alia’s pleas and tried my hand at acting with her. “Oh, no. Dear, I’m so sorry.” I hug her again, and catch eyes with Will, who seems genuinely touched. “I am so glad you are safe.”
