The Prince’s Heart

1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

E verything in the grand ballroom sparkles and glitters with reflected light. Glowbulbs hanging from ornate chandeliers illuminate a large dance floor surrounded by tables covered in immaculate white linen. From my vantage point near the entrance, I can see there are quite a few people here, which is annoying but to be expected for a ball as fancy as this one. The air is thick with conversations, the cacophony combining with a lively tune played by virtuoso musicians. On the dance floor, people wearing brightly colored outfits dance in time with the music, spinning and twirling like flower petals caught in the wind. Other attendees stand off to the sides, chatting with their friends, or they sit at tables, eating dinner.

All in all, it’s quite a beautiful scene, and yet it’s a struggle to keep myself from turning around and bolting like a startled deer. I look over at my brother, Samis, who’s standing a few feet away from me, looking as resplendent as ever in his red-and-gold formal outfit. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Of course it is, Darien,” he says, rolling his eyes. He runs his hands through his short, russet-brown hair, looking every inch the perfect prince that he is. “Say what you will about Lady Gerreso, but she knows how to throw a ball. Plus, she has the best chef in the city.” He grins and gives me an exaggerated wink. “And I promised to introduce you to someone, remember? What kind of brother would I be if I let you down now?”

It doesn’t surprise me that the quality of the food was part of the allure for Samis—perhaps the greatest mystery in our family is how he can eat twice as much as any of us and still be as skinny as a stick. “I’m sure the food is good,” I concede. “But I’m still not sure about this.”

“Really? I’m shocked .” His voice is infuriatingly calm. “Although, perhaps I should be, because as I recall, you were the one who asked me for help.”

“That’s not how I remember it,” I mutter. Then, louder: “What if your friend isn’t here?” More importantly, what if he is here ?

Apparently oblivious to my discomfort, Samis shrugs. “I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. And if not, you can still find some way to enjoy yourself, right? It’s just a party, Darien. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Despite my nerves, I only have to think about it for a moment. Samis and I may not always agree with each other, but I can admit when he’s right. Usually. Plus, I suppose I did ask him for advice. “Alright, I’ll try. But no guarantees.”

His cerulean eyes light up, and he gives me his most charming, princely smile. “Excellent! Now, come on. Let’s go find my friend. I think you and he will get along quite well if you know what I mean.”

I glare at him, already regretting my decision to go along with this. But Samis starts to walk toward the morass of attendees, striding purposefully, his shoulders back and his chin held high. After one more moment’s hesitation, I sigh and follow him.

We don’t get very far before I hear a familiar voice somewhere to my right, “Excuse me, but what are you doing here?” The surprise is so thick it’s almost palpable. “And what in the world are you wearing ?”

I stop and turn to see a woman about a foot shorter than me wearing a well-cut white-and-gold dress. Her entire look is impeccable, from the intricately woven braid in her light-brown hair down to her shoes, which appear to be covered in pearls. I’ve known Ivy Tirellon for more than twenty years. She’s always been far more fashionable than me, and she never lets me forget it. To be fair, her talents aren’t limited to fashion—the Tirellons have a reputation for producing swordmasters going back to the days of the old Empire, and Ivy’s no different, as she’s repeatedly proven during our training sessions.

“It’s good to see you, Ivy,” I say, as Samis joins us. “And what’s wrong with my clothes?” I add. “I thought we agreed that purple looks good on me.”

She fingers the lapel of my jacket. “Not this shade. It makes you look like a grape.” She says it with an expression that’s half-joking and half-serious, and I can’t help but laugh. “It’s good to see you, too, Darien. I suppose you look ... acceptable.”

“Thanks for that.” I roll my eyes at her. “You look good, too. I have to ask, how many knives did you bring with you tonight?”

She grins at me. “Not that many. It’s just a ball.” Knowing her, this could mean anywhere from one to twenty; she’s ingenious at finding ways to hide them in her clothes, so I really can’t spot any, even though I’m only a few feet away from her. She smiles. “‘Always be prepared’ and all that, you know?”

I shudder as I recall our lessons with the palace weapons tutor, Earon. He was always full of pithy sayings like that. I still remember a good amount of them even though I gave up trying to learn how to fight with a sword—or any weapon, really—some years ago. Ivy, on the other hand, still trains with him three times a week. “If you say so.”

She nods as if to say, “ I do say so ,” and turns to my brother, bowing slightly to him. “Your Royal Highness, forgive me, but I must ask: how did you manage to drag him to a ball as fancy as this?”

“It wasn’t easy,” Samis says with a grimace that better be fake. “Believe me, it took quite a bit of cajoling.”

“I believe it, Your Royal Highness.” She gives us an expectant look. “Is your sister here, too?”

I shake my head. “No, Emma’s back at the palace. Apparently, she got up before dawn to work on one of her projects, and she said she wanted to get some rest tonight.” I don’t need to tell Ivy that the last part was almost certainly a lie; we both know that Emma will be working on her mysterious project all night instead of resting. Sometimes I don’t understand how she can function as well as she does with so little sleep. “She did ask me to give you her regards, though.”

“That’s too bad. But in any event, I’m glad you’re here, if only to make me look better by comparison.” She winks at me. “Want to explore the library with me? Lady Gerreso’s wife just got back to Cedelia recently, and I heard she brought a copy of the first edition of The Travels of Menha Termon with her from Raktos.”

That definitely makes me perk up. I thought all of them were destroyed! I mean, I did promise Samis that I’d meet his friend, but surely that can wait a bit? And if I don’t meet his friend tonight, there’s always the next ball, right?

With my mind made up, I’m about to accept Ivy’s gracious offer when Samis clears his throat. “Sorry, Ivy,” he says, “but I promised to introduce Darien to a friend. The two of you can read all about Maria Tarkon’s travels later. It’s not like this book is going to get up and walk away, you know.” He gives me a loaded look. “But my friend , on the other hand, just might.”

Ivy gives me a knowing look. “Ah. In that case, I’ll leave you to it. Until we meet again, Your Royal Highnesses.” With that, she bows slightly and leaves, soon lost in the crowd.

Our momentary detour evidently complete, Samis resumes walking toward the mass of people around the dance floor. After a brief, regretful glance at the exit, I trail behind, feeling like a prisoner being led to his execution.

“So, are you going to tell me about this friend of yours?” I ask, trying to sound like I’m not panicking. “You haven’t told me what he looks like. Or even what his name is, for that matter.”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He turns to face me, briefly giving me a wide grin, before facing forward again. “Trust me, you’ll like him. I’m sure of it.”

Not this again . “You’ve said that before. Several times, in fact.”

This time, he doesn’t even bother to turn around. “And I was right, wasn’t I? Just because you didn’t end up courting any of the other men I’ve introduced you to, doesn’t mean you didn’t like them.”

I have no response to that, so I remain silent. He’s not wrong, I suppose—he’s a pretty good judge of character, and, by this point, he seems to know what I’m looking for. With one not-so-minor exception, that is. Not so minor to me, at least.

Deep down, though, I appreciate that Samis is willing to take charge and make these introductions on my behalf. After he got married and our parents shifted all their focus to finding an acceptable match for me, Samis could have easily left me to fend for myself. Instead, he’s been encouraging me to stop spending all my time in the library and actually meet people. Maybe he views this not as a chore, as I would, but as more of a challenge and he’s always loved challenges.

Deftly dodging servants carrying trays of food and drinks, Samis makes his way through the crowd, greeting people with a nod or a few words as he passes. I follow quietly in his wake, my mind racing. What if this one is just like all the others ? How many more times do I have to go through this ? Samis grabs two glasses of wine from a passing servant and hands one to me. I drink mine quickly, as though the answers to my questions are written on the bottom of the glass, but none are waiting for me once the wine is gone.

After a minute or so of wandering, Samis stops meandering and makes a beeline in one direction, and my anxiety ratchets up even more. This is it , I think, trying and failing to boost my confidence. Here goes nothing .

I take a deep breath just as Samis stops before a good-looking man, about my height, with short, blond hair framing a heart-shaped face, eyes the color of a cloudless sky, and full lips. He smiles when he sees Samis, and my heart skips a beat.

“Samis, my friend!” he exclaims. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been just fine, Petris,” Samis says, smiling widely as the two of them shake hands. “Enjoying married life. Not that you’d know anything about that , of course.”

They both chuckle while I stand there trying not to fidget.

Apparently, it’s not quite awkward enough for Samis yet. “Speaking of which,” he says, “please allow me to introduce my brother, Darien.” He frowns ever so slightly. “Well, technically I suppose he’s Prince Darien Garros to you, but he won’t mind if you just call him Darien. I told you about him a few weeks ago, remember?”

“Of course I remember.” Petris turns to me. “Pleased to meet you, Darien,” he says with a bow. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Petris,” I say. He holds out his hand and I take it, his grip warm and firm. “Samis has only told you good things about me, I hope?”

His grin widens as he releases my hand, making my heart skip a few more beats. I’m going to need a healer by the end of the night if this keeps up .

Petris is about to respond when Samis jumps in, a smug look on his face; I’m willing to forgive him for it, just this once, and I bet he knows. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find Kenessa,” he says. “Have fun together. But don’t get into too much trouble.” With that admonition, my brother turns to go find his wife, and most likely something to eat.

With Samis gone, I’m worried about my grape-like outfit, hoping that it—or, more importantly, my complete lack of social skills—doesn’t put Petris off. “How do you and Samis know each other?” I ask, my voice an octave too high.

In contrast to how I’m feeling, Petris looks relaxed: his head is slightly tilted, and his blue eyes hold my gaze. “My family breeds racehorses, and Samis purchased one of our best a few years back. Evidently, the filly we sold him won a few races, and he kept coming back to try out some other horses. Over time, we became friends. I have to say, Samis is one of the best riders I’ve ever seen. It took quite a few tries before I managed to win a race against him.”

“At least you managed to beat him. I don’t think I ever have.”

Petris laughs again; this time, it’s much deeper, a full, throaty sound that makes me blush. “Knowing your brother, I can believe it.” His eyes flick down before he looks back up, a hint of a roguish grin on his beautiful face. “I’m certain that you’re quite skilled in other ways, though.”

I feel a flush that has nothing to do with the wine I drank, along with a slow smile. Maybe I don’t regret coming here after all.

I spend the next few hours with Petris, enjoying myself far more than I thought I would. At first, I feel a bit bad for monopolizing his time, but he doesn’t seem to mind, and I’m certainly not complaining. Something about his easy manner calms my nerves, and after talking to him for a while, I almost forget I’m surrounded by other people.

After we’ve been chatting for a half hour or so, Petris somehow convinces me to join him on the dance floor, which is quite a feat. By the time we make our way to the center of the room, Samis and Kenessa are already there. I barely notice when Samis gives me a conspiratorial wink as we pass by each other, my attention almost completely on the attractive man a few inches away from me. I try my best to not trip over my own two feet, and to my great relief, I mostly succeed. At some point, I even start to enjoy it. Maybe Samis was right about him .

After we’ve danced for what feels like both hours and a few seconds, the music stops and the musicians leave their seats, presumably to get some food and take a well-deserved break. For perhaps the first time in my life, I’m upset to see them go, impatient for them to finish eating and come back so I can keep dancing with Petris. It’s a strange feeling.

From the look on Petris’s face, he’s feeling something similar; just seeing his expression and knowing he was enjoying dancing with me , of all people, makes my heart race even more.

“Well, that’s a shame,” he says. “Would you like to go outside while we wait for them to come back? I think I could use some fresh air.”

I nod, realizing how flushed I am. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

He grins and leads me wordlessly to a side door and out into a small courtyard. The cool spring air, a contrast from the stuffiness of the ball, hits me like a sheet of ice, but it does nothing to dull the fire burning in my chest. Despite the cold, there’s a good number of people outside, enough that the air still buzzes with the hum of conversation. Paths lead away from three sides of the square at odd intervals, with plants crowding in around them. Light pouring from the ballroom windows, augmented by the full moon and glowbulbs hung from strings running between the larger plants, gives the garden a soft golden radiance.

Taking me by the hand, Petris guides me across the courtyard and down one of the gravel paths, stopping at a marble bench surrounded by empty flowerbeds. We sit quietly for a few moments, breathing in the fresh air, before he turns to me, his handsome face shining in the moonlight. “Thank you for spending time with me tonight, Darien,” he says. “I really do appreciate it.”

I can’t help but raise my eyebrows at that. “I should be the one thanking you. I’m having a wonderful time. I can’t remember the last time I danced that much at a ball.”

“Really? I would have thought dancing is part of the job description for a prince.”

“Perhaps it is. But that doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”

He takes my hand, his warm, soft skin pressing against mine. “Maybe you just needed to find the right partner.” His eyes look bigger than they did before, and it takes me a second to realize it’s because our faces have drawn closer together, our foreheads almost touching. I close my own eyes in anticipation, ready to find out whether his lips are as soft as his touch.

Before our lips can touch, though, I feel him pull back, just a bit, and I open my eyes again. “Forgive me if I’m offending you,” he says, his quiet voice ringing in my ears, “but I have to admit, I was surprised when Samis suggested that you and I meet.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

He shrugs. “I just meant that, from the way he described you, it seemed like you and I don’t really have similar personalities. Don’t get me wrong—he didn’t badmouth you or anything like that. But I got the feeling you weren’t really, you know, my type.”

A wave of fear that’s colder than the night air washes over me. Is he telling me he doesn’t like me ? Somehow, the prospect seems much worse than it would have just a few hours ago. “I don’t doubt what he told you is true,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “But you still agreed to spend time with me and to come out here, so it can’t have been that bad, right?”

The sweet smile he gives me lessens my fear somewhat. “Of course it wasn’t bad ,” he says. “I don’t mind that you’re shy. Not everyone can be a social butterfly like Samis.” He squeezes my hand. “Besides, it’s not like it matters whether you’re my type.”

Just like that, any relief I felt has gone, replaced by a sinking feeling that I’m all too familiar with. “I’m glad it doesn’t bother you,” I say, my heart in my throat. “But why doesn’t it matter whether I’m your type?”

He looks at me, his face bathed in reflected moonlight. “Isn’t it obvious? You’re a prince , Darien.” He says the word ‘prince’ like it’s made of gold, and my heart immediately plummets from my throat down to my feet. “I don’t care what your personality is like. Not that I don’t like you—you seem nice enough, even if we’re not perfectly matched. Maybe if you were someone else, it would be a problem. But you’re part of the royal family . I’m more than willing to ignore some personality differences if it means I get to court someone like you.”

He squeezes my hand again, but the spell has already been broken. Not me, just someone like me . “I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is going to work out,” I hear myself say as though from a distance. “I should go.”

His face falls so quickly that it might be funny if I wasn’t so upset. “Wait, Darien, what’s wr—”

Before he can finish the sentence, I stand up so fast I feel lightheaded. My vision blurs from unshed tears. “I’m sorry,” I repeat, knowing he won’t understand, that he can’t understand. He calls my name as I walk away, but I ignore him, not even bothering to look back, until his voice fades away in the distance.