Page 8 of Upon the Riven Throne

“Do not try me.”

“Of course,” Noal repeated. “Her highness’s wardrobe will be remedied. Just as soon as the seamstresses are able.”

There was a weighty pause. “As soon as they are able?So that is how it is, then? Betrayed in my own house by my own man.”

Noal did not answer.

The prince’s voice dropped low. “Do you think me so easily persuaded? That a bit of skin would tempt me to fall at her knees?”

A pause. “She is quite striking, is she not?”

There was the sound of something solid settling very heavily onto wood. When the prince spoke again, his resolve was evident. “That seals it. You have proven you cannot be trusted. No more traps for your prince—the prince, I’ll remind you, to whom you’ve sworn allegiance. And from this night forward, no more gatherings. You will not parade her about or take risks with our treacherous court. In fact, dinner will be private, the lady and myself only. Should she attend a gathering, she will be on my arm through the entire event or she shall not attend at all.”

Noal said, “I can see how that would be best.”

The prince’s tone dipped and Mireille had the sense he was leaning in to deliver his threat. “I will not forget whose side you are on.”

“We are on the side of Rivenwilde, Highness. With respect.”

He huffed. “Weyou say, as if the entire house were against me.”

If Noal made a response it was silent. Then footsteps sounded and the prince’s voice came nearer to the door. “I am Rivenwilde. You would all do well to remember it.”

Mireille stumbled backward then ran as fast as she was able toward her spot by the far wall. When the door came open, she held her gaze on a tall piece of marble statuary in the shape of a woman, a bounty of fruit spilling over the carved arms and a fox curled around the figure’s legs so that the tail hung over the base. She could feel the prince’s eyes on her as he stood for a moment at the doorway. He closed the door with Noal inside, then strode toward Mireille.

Beneath the long skirt of her own gown, she shoved her feet back into her slippers. She kept her gaze on the statue, specifically the flowers and fruit, which somehow evoked the scent of early summer despite that they were merely cut stone. When Alder reached her side, Mireille said, “This is beautiful.”

He did not reply.

“I’ve noticed a few recurring themes in the works throughout the palace.” She glanced at him. “What is the significance of the orange blossom?”

It was the wrong question. His posture, already rigid, went more so, his wide shoulders drawn back and neck taut. “I must return to my tasks.”

She straightened to face him, offering a small smile. “Of course. Do, go on. Pretend as if I am not even here.”

He muttered, “Of course,” then turned to walk down the long corridor.

Mireille hurried to keep pace, concerned she might have pushed him too far by using the words Noal had repeated. But she had to push him enough to keep him at least a little off balance, or she would never find answers.

They traversed several rooms and corridors, passing dozens of closed doors before she said pleasantly, “While I eagerly await the coming tour—I suppose I would do well to be familiar with the expectations of your house in the meantime. Are there rooms that I am not to investigate? Areas that may be forbidden?”

“You are not imprisoned. You may go where you like.”

“But not outside the walls of the palace,” she said. “And not to court events.”

He stopped so abruptly that she nearly stumbled into him. “You agreed to the bargain. Willingly.”

“I have not changed my mind. I am only attempting to find my footing.”

“There is nothing to find. Until the next moon, you are a guest here.”

Afterward, Mireille would be taking on an entirely new role. There was a tiny line at the edge of his brow, as thin as one of his dark lashes. She fought the urge to reach out and touch it.

Something like ire sparked in his gaze. “Perhaps you should focus on ways to take your duties as guest more seriously.”

He pointed toward what Mireille realized was a familiar corridor. “At the end of this passage, you will find the door to your suite.”

Ignoring the dismissal, she glanced at the set of doors that had to be his. She said quietly, “It’s very close to yours.”

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