Page 114 of Artemysia
I emerge from the dressing room and meet Gregory’s gaze. “I’m ready to be aristocratic now.” I grin at my butler-guard, which draws a thin smile from his pursed lips. He’s warming up to me.
“That color wouldn’t work for most people,” he says, “But on you—well, you could almost be mistaken as royal.”
“A genuine compliment? Why thank you, Gregory.”
Still stoic, he bows from the waist and sweeps his arm out the door, ushering me down the corridor.
I stride past him with as much grace as I can muster in heels that I’m not used to wearing. It’s easier to balance on a bucking elk.
“You’re not the only one who has to be someone else tonight,” I tell Gregory.
At this, he snorts and offers the first real laugh I’ve heard from him so far.
“Have a drink. They’re strong here. But your version ofsomeone elseshould try to have fun tonight. Even amongst the wake of vultures downstairs”
“I can take care of myself.” I smirk.
He nods in agreement. “I see that. It’s why I’ve been nicer to you than I am to most. A baroness earlier tonight had me wash her stinking feet and shine her dress shoes. She demanded they be polished until she could see her reflection in them. The indignity.”
“People are awful. Lucky for you, I don’t care about shiny shoes.” At this, I’m reminded of Riev’s love of polished footwear, and I laugh to myself.
Gregory trails behind me. “All the way down the corridor until we reach the stairs.”
At the top of the S-curved stairway, he politely offers up an arm, which I accept.
After another hallway and the final stairway, he ushers me through the archway of the grand ballroom.
On a tiered stage to the right, the King and Queen of North Kingdom are perched on thrones, with Prince Toryl of North Kingdom standing below them, greeting well-wishers.
The prince’s eyes flick to me as I enter. As we lock gazes, he ignores the nobleman holding out his hand for a handshake. He’s taller than anyone around him, with a head of ash brown hair cut into feathered waves—the same color I had as a child, before it turned white.
He captures my attention, as I do his. A future leader of the North.
I’m betting he has the information I need.
His expression is hard and unapproachable, though attractive features complement his bright white and red uniform, the same one his father also wears.
He continues to watch me as he lowers himself onto his throne. Well, that’s alarming. Am I giving myself away somehow? I stare back anyway. He’s wide-shouldered and strong-limbed, but not from training. I can tell by the soft way he lounges on his throne. He doesn’t appear to have the tense reflexes of a soldier, or the elegance that comes from having control of every muscle, like Riev, though perhaps theprince has a natural grace from a life of ease.
Do I curtsy from afar? Should I not look at him directly? To be safe, I force a slight grin and bow my head as I perform a small curtsy. He lingers a moment longer before his relentless gaze darts away.
I scan past the mirrored walls and the throngs of beautiful, exquisitely dressed people. When I don’t spot Riev, I pivot toward Gregory to ask if guests might also be in another room, but he’s already gone. My butler-guard couldn’t wait to leave me as soon as he was allowed. I wonder if he’s off to greet other guests in the same sullen manner, and it makes me laugh. If only he knew I was his counterpart in South Kingdom. Just a soldier following orders.
A quartet of guards patrols the ballroom’s entrance, and when I turn back around, the crowd has shifted. I spot Riev’s dark head of hair in the far corner. He’s holding a much larger goblet than the one we were offered earlier.
His cheeks are rosy, and he’s laughing.
Laughing. With strangers.
Two elaborately dressed royals, based on their small bronze crowns. A young woman hovers next to Riev in layers of flowing, silken periwinkle fabric, with dark blooms weaved into her almond-colored hair. To his other side, a young man resembling the woman raises a goblet to Riev. Siblings, perhaps? The woman follows suit with her cup, grinning from ear to ear.
Riev clinks his glass with both of them, and all three of them swallow down their cocktails. He doesn’t see me and signals a server for another round of drinks with an easy flick of his palm.
He looks happy. Red-cheeked, laughing abnormally loud.
I don’t know why his laughter bothers me, except that I haven’t seen this side of him.
In his usual surly and reserved state, his intensity will still turn heads like a thunderhead on the horizon. Here, charming and warm, with a smile that reaches his eyes, he draws the attention of all around him like the sun.
