Page 17 of A Court of Masks and Roses
I have time for a single relieved smile before someone knocks on the door. Leaf and I exchange final glances.
“Your escort is here,” she says unnecessarily.
I draw a calming breath and open the door—and nearly slam it shut again when I see Trace standing in the corridor. Firehorn could have warned me that the same man I’ve been trading blows with the past two days will be the one gallantly escorting Lady Lianna all over the palace grounds. Bloody Firehorn and his bloody stupid games.
“Are you all right, my lady?” Trace’s eyes narrow in concern as he offers me his arm. He looks as easy in his dress uniform as he did in his training garb this morning. “I did not intend to startle you.”
I give him a demure smile and carefully suppress my instinctive hesitation, then lay my fingers atop his forearm. As before, the coiled muscles are alive with leashed violence, though now I’m quite familiar with what those muscles can do. A wave of heat rushes through my blood.He doesn’t know.Hecan’t tell. You are nothing to him but a royal brat to be escorted about.“Not at all. I’m simply nervous about meeting everyone.”
Lady Lianna sounds like a simpering idiot. Brilliant.
Trace’s eyes soften. “It’s only dinner, my lady. Everyone chews and swallows the same way, no matter what station they hold.”
I give him a tightlipped smile and allow him to guide me down the gilded corridors to the second part of my mission.
The dining room is heavy with velvet curtains, deep wood, and cushioned chairs. A long table, already full, extends the length of the room, candle-filled chandeliers reflecting in its polished surface. At the far end of the room, a trio of violinists sets an intimate ambiance. When Trace releases me to take up his place among other guards standing against the wall, I immediately miss the solid platform of his arm. My heart speeds, longing for the shadows. But there is no place to hide.
Standing alone before a table of finely dressed strangers, I feel naked.
A girl in Everett colors, who can only be Princess Raza, looks up at me. She is breathtakingly beautiful, with a thick, shining blond braid and emerald eyes. Her earrings, chosen to offset her irises’ deep green hues, reflect the candlelight in imitation of living crystals—a subtle insult to Dansil. A diplomat, Raza is not.
The princess’s eyes stay on me long enough that I’ve the odd sensation of being measured. An echo of the manner in which boys’ gazes weigh Kal. Competition. I just wish the princess would bother to inform me of what we are competing for. Or how.
“Ah, Lady Lianna,” says the king, following the girl’s gaze. He waves me forward and directs the attention of the diners seated beside him. “Allow me to introduce my niece, Lady Lianna, who’s just arrived at court.” In royal families, “niece”is a loose term that carries little genealogical meaning, but it does signal me as some sort of royal relation. Which is how Firehorn can use the term without anyone suspecting my true closely twined bloodline. “Lianna, please meet Prince William and Princess Violet, Envoy Jajack and Princess Raza from Everett, and the leader of the Order of the Goddess, His Grace Bishop Bahir. I imagine the others will introduce themselves to you in short order as well, but for now, I thought you and Raza might enjoy spending the evening together.”
The other dinner guests nod their welcome while a servant pulls a chair out for me.
I smile at the princess.
“I never realized such modest dress and flat color was a fashion in Dansil,” says Raza. She cuts a quick glance at Trace before returning her attention to me. “Is that what intrigues Dansil men?”
My cheeks heat beneath my makeup as I feel Trace’s gaze join Raza’s. I’ve faith that whatever Firehorn placed in my closet is appropriate for Lady Lianna’s social standing, but tonight I was more concerned with hiding welts and bruises than bringing out beauty. Have I done such a poor job that my unattractiveness calls attention to itself? Enough that Raza and Trace have both noticed? Certainly, Raza’s gown accentuates her perfect body in a way that no clothing could manage on me. “I can hardly say, Your Highness,” I tell the girl. “I’ve always thought it was my poisonous personality that scared away admirers. But perhaps it’s just my clothing choice.”
The corner of Trace’s mouth twitches in a suppressed smile.
Raza’s jaw tightens, her gorgeous green eyes darkening to a storm. “One hardly excludes the other.”
Besides Raza and myself, Violet is the only other female inthe room. Fourteen, and finely framed like her brother, the girl has plainly gone to some trouble to make herself seem full grown this evening. Her golden curls are perfectly arranged, her posture pristine, her lips painted. She is attempting to look like a queen but comes off a doll.
“How do you find life at court, Lady Lianna?” Violet asks, leaning forward.
“Don’t bother your cousin, Violet,” Firehorn tells her quietly. “Children are to be seen, not heard.”
“I’m not a child,” Violet hisses, but she sinks back into her chair at her father’s stern glare.
I smooth the shawl that covers my shoulders despite the heat and smile at Violet. “To be honest, I’m so newly arrived that I find it all a bit overwhelming.”
“Quite understandable,” interjects the man sitting on the other side of me—Bishop Bahir, the second most powerful man in Dansil. With a full goatee cut to a point and coal-black hair brushing his rich blood-red robes, Bahir resembles a wealthy merchant more than a pious guide. His eyes, a dark brown with speckles of yellow and green, are uncomfortably intense despite an otherwise kindly smile. A heavy golden ring inlaid with a stone I fail to recognize adorns one of his fingers, which are manicured but calloused. “Do let me know how I might help you adjust. The Goddess embraces her returned children, for fresh young minds pave the way to our future.”
Wil grins, his eyes filled with mischief that sets the hairs on the back of my neck standing at attention. “So then, Cousin Lianna, have you a thought on how Dansil and Everett might resolve their differences in the mortal world? Speak now, for by the end of dinner you will be so fatigued of everyone’s opinions that you will agree with anything just to get dessert!”
I wait a breath for Firehorn to shut Wil down as he did Violet, but discover my hope to be in vain. When it’s clear thatWil’s trap-filled question stands, I check my voice to the light, breathless timbre of an awe-stricken girl. “I would not presume to offer an opinion on so complex a matter, Your Highness. But I am grateful for the current ceasefire and hold hope that one day both our nations might peacefully prosper.”
Raza folds her delicate hands in her lap. “Yes. Well, unfortunately, trusting Dansil is like shorting a whore—you never know how the night might end. The last time Everett agreed to pull back our troops, Dansil destroyed two of our mines in Sylthia.”
The envoy’s face flushes in shame. “Princess Raza,” he says pointedly. “Perhaps you might take some water?”
She flips a hand at the man. “Really, Jajack, do you imagine that the king of Dansil can’t speak for himself?”
