Chapter 23 #2
Rich tapestries I hadn’t noticed before line the walls. Their intricate patterns tell stories of battles our kingdom has both won and lost. Long tables full of decadent pastries, vibrant fruits, and roasted meats sit off to the side, and I make a mental note to get a closer look soon.
At the far end of the hall, musicians play on wooden instruments. A violinist leads the melody, accompanied by the gentle hum of a cello. The music weaves through the air, and couples twirl and sway in perfect harmony on the dance floor in the center.
It’s overwhelming, beautiful, and entirely surreal.
“Telfi would have loved something like this,” I tell Theo, my chest hurting more than I’d like but not enough to miss the way his steps falter.
I turn to him.
“Telfi?” he asks, and there’s something in the way he says her name that makes me pause.
For a moment, the noise around us seems to dim, the vibrant colors of the hall blurring at the edges.
He knows her.
The realization feels impossible, and yet…
No, that can’t be right.
I would remember if Telfi had ever met a royal.
They only travel to our village once a year, on the day of the third trial.
They attend the final trial of every village, a task that takes just over two months.
Starting with Village 1, which is only a few hours from where we are now and ending with Village 65.
But there’s no way they could have met. Telfi would have told me.
I shake my head.
He doesn’t know her. He can’t know her. Like most people, he’s thrown off by her name.
“She was my sister,” I say, and he gives me a curt nod before clearing his throat.
“Let’s get you some punch.” His voice returns to his usual playful tone, and I follow as he leads the way.
We approach the table filled with drinks, where masked servants pour vibrant liquids into crystal glasses. Theo hands one to me, and I lift it to my nose before raising a brow.
“Orilander powder?” I ask. The sweet, intoxicating aroma is impossible to miss. I’ve never consumed it before, but I’ve smelled it in the market, usually late at night when the villagers desire to escape their bleak realities for just a bit.
Apparently, it takes the edge off, which is something I find myself in desperate need of.
“Not really a party without it,” Theo says with a grin, gulping his down and grabbing another. My brows rise higher just before I do the same.
Theo’s smile widens.
“I have a few people I need to say hello to, but then I’ll circle back. Will you be all right on your own for a bit?” His words are close to my ear, and my heartbeat picks up, not from his proximity, but from the sudden rush coursing through my veins.
The orilander powder is already working its way through my system, sending a faint tingle to my arms, my neck, and my back. My mind feels loose, untethered, almost like a subtle haze has fallen over me.
“Oh, I think I’ll be just fine.” I grab another drink, and he gives me an approving nod just before he wanders off.
My eyes scan the room, eager to take in all I can, but also desperate to find the one person my foolish mind can’t seem to rid itself of.
But I don’t see him.
The music picks up, and I start to sway, the drink in my hand nearly gone again.
A sharp laugh rings out to my left. It’s a sound I recognize immediately, one that sets my nerves on edge, making my blood run hot.
I take a slow, deep breath through my nose to try to steady myself.
She laughs again. The gorgeous blonde I once saw dragging her slender finger across Ryjax’s chest, the memory forever burned into my mind.
My jaw tightens as I gulp down another mouthful of punch, straining to listen to her conversation with her equally stunning companions.
“Did you see the way he was looking at me earlier?” she says, her voice dripping with confidence.
My heart thunders in my chest. She can’t possibly be talking about—
“If only the prince would dance with me. He looks absolutely gorgeous tonight, but every time I try to touch him, he makes himself scarce. This whole hard-to-get ruse is getting a bit old. Especially when we both know how much he desires me.”
“Do you think that’s what it is? We’ve all heard the rumors about the prince,” a dark-haired woman whispers, and I find myself taking a small step closer to them.
“What rumors?” the blonde snaps, her chest puffing out, accentuating her large breasts.
Her gown is truly exquisite. Gold and black, with sections covered in what looks to be tiny diamonds.
“That the prince,” says the brunette, her tone still hushed, “does not like to be touched.” Her doe eyes widen, and I hide my smile behind my glass.
Oh, the prince does like to be touched. My smile deepens. Just not by you.
I watch as the blonde’s grip tightens on her own glass, her eyes narrowing on who I assume to be her friend.
“But the prince is as good as yours.” The brunette bites her lip. “Your parents must be so pleased.”
The blonde’s expression softens into a radiant smile as she tosses her hair over her shoulder.
“Beyond. A betrothal between our kingdoms is something they’ve waited a long time for.”
Betrothal? Kingdoms?
Which means she’s—
“Oh, Helena, your wedding will be most beautiful!”
Helena, princess of Bragunda and apparently future wife of the prince. Of Ryjax.
“He hasn’t proposed yet, but it’s only a matter of time,” she says with a nod of her head.
My stomach churns, and I see red. And I cannot see red because I cannot draw attention to myself. Not in this way.
Suddenly, Helena stiffens. Her posture straightens, and her neck extends in a way that makes her look polished and poised like the gods-damned princess she is.
“He’s coming,” she says quietly, and a few of them turn their heads. “Don’t look!”
Her voice is sharp, and I want to roll my eyes, but I don’t. Instead, I point them in the direction she referenced, and there he is.
My heart stutters. Or stops. Or speeds up. Truly, I don’t even know what the damn thing is doing because the only thing I can focus on is him.
Helena wasn’t wrong. He does look absolutely delectable tonight, and my mouth instantly goes dry. Not because of the way his tailored suit clings to his frame, or how his golden crown gleams against his dark hair. But because he’s looking at me.
Only at me.
He moves through the crowd with confidence, the guests parting as if compelled by some unseen force. Every long stride bringing him closer and closer until he’s standing directly in front of me.
A surprised gasp sounds behind me. The princess no doubt.
“Care to dance?” he whispers the words right by my ear with a voice that’s smooth and deep, filled with something that sounds a lot like desire. His eyes sweep over me slowly, drinking me in, and I do the same to him.
“Who the fuck is she?” Yup, definitely Helena, and she’s not happy, not that I can bring myself to care.
Instead, my traitorous thoughts flash back to the night he was in my room, when he placed my hands on his shoulders and pressed his forehead to mine.
A moment that’s been on a loop in my mind, playing over and over again, refusing to fade. And when he cocks his head to the side and his lips part on a silent breath, I wonder if he’s been thinking about it, too.
Unable to form words, I simply nod, trying to ignore the pressure I suddenly feel pooling in my stomach.
That unbelievable smile flashes across his face, devastating and breathtaking all at once, and for the first time, I notice the dimple on his right cheek.
I think the sight of it might cause my flames to consume me, ignite into a glorious blaze that devours my dress and everything around me, but before I can lose control, he grabs me by the hand and pulls me onto the dance floor.