CHAPTER TWELVE #2
The expansive hills that separated us from Hollowmire swallowed up the sun, splashing the sky with vibrant hues.
My brow indented as I assessed the dark purples and bruising crimson pooling just above the horizon.
Were Hollowmire’s colors fashioned after the sunset?
Perhaps if I had humored Tilda, I wouldn’t have to wonder.
A gentle hum coaxed my attention lower. I leaned against the courtyard balcony to assess the commotion, a smile pulling at the edges of my lips.
The decorations I’d spotted from behind Phinara’s baked goods earlier in the day had multiplied; not a single surface was without Lunamor’s colors, and even as darkness overtook the sun’s dimming glow—with only the errant sconce casting flickering shadows across the flowers, tapestries, and silk—everything was cheerful.
The humming grew, its source a group of villagers who linked arms around the courtyard’s centerpiece—a massive copper fountain with nine tiers spilling water into a shallow pool beneath.
With the sun set, and the first of the stars beginning to twinkle periodically overhead, it was time for the official festivities to begin.
A sudden hush prompted a steadied inhale.
I flicked my attention to the upper tier of the balcony where I knew Father would be standing.
He rested his palms easily against the stone, that imposing silver crown glistening in the torchlight two servants held by his side.
His dark, wavy hair cascaded about his shoulders, and not a trace of a smile could be found on those features.
He had shirked a doublet and instead wore a dark silk shirt with a high collar fastened at the neck.
A fur-lined cape warded off the growing chill, and multiple rings housing teal gemstones shone on his hands.
“Citizens of Lunamor and Hollowmire,” he began, his booming voice echoing throughout the courtyard.
“Our celebration has been blessed by the stars; this very morning, the warmth of summer bid us farewell, and autumn’s crisp welcome eased our temperaments.
Even now, as the sun flees behind the western hills, I sense the invigorating breeze ushering us into the Feast of Comets. Do you feel it?”
Villagers pulled their cloaks tighter and nodded fervently, a sea of people ensuring their acknowledgment of the biting breeze was visible to the king.
“Tonight we celebrate the comets,” Father continued.
“They brighten our night sky, a stark reminder that the Creator planted each and every star and breathed forth each and every comet… so that we might feel our ancestor’s presence amongst us.
Other kingdoms, including our revered neighbor Hollowmire, associate comets with nearing calamity—so we have no choice but to ease our allies’ minds… ”
A pair of golden eyes flickered in the firelight behind my father.
The world around me stilled, my own heartbeat overtaking Father’s speech as our eyes connected.
He stepped forward minimally, a torch drenching his features in a red-yellow glow: razor-sharp cheekbones, midnight black hair, and full lips.
Despite the chill, he had forgone a cloak, and the plum sleeves that wrapped around his corded arms and broad chest left little to the imagination.
Even without the golden band around his forehead, I would have known I was meeting Prince Rowland from afar for the very first time.
The servants were right—the stars had taken great care with that face.
His gaze was unwavering, and my heart kicked up further in reply.
I silently willed the candlelight to conceal the blush heating my cheeks.
Even from a distance, I could sense the sheer force of this man—a magnetism I’d never felt before and could not identify, both consuming and unsettling.
It was a feat to keep our eyes locked, and when my chin lifted infinitesimally with recognition, so too did his.
An enveloping roar coupled with the extinguishing of the torchlight broke our spell, and I steadied myself against the cool stone of the balcony. I took a large gulp of wine, hoping to combat the flood of anxiety souring my stomach.
In the courtyard, villagers had started singing.
Ever moons, rise easy now
The comet’s tail may brush your cheek
Rest easy now, rider of night
Heaven’s eye, and starlight’s gleam
“What does it mean?”
I startled for two reasons. First, he had descended from the upper balcony with unmatched speed—it should have taken him much longer to reach me.
Second, that voice could not be real. It was decadently smooth, with a coaxing lilt that sent a shiver down my spine.
No Lunamorian had ever sounded like that, I was absolutely certain.
It was all I could do to keep my gaze forward and relaxed, as if the dancing, singing villagers held the majority of my attention and he was merely intervening.
“We look to the skies.” It was effortful to conceal the waver in my voice. “The comets bring prosperity, and connect us with our ancestors in the stars.”
“How convenient,” he mused, drawing closer.
I placed my goblet on the edge of the balcony before turning to assess him.
I was not slight, yet he towered over me.
His illuminated, golden eyes held my focus despite the uncomfortable urge to drown in his features.
He somehow managed to appear tan and pale simultaneously, as though he’d once had sun-kissed skin, but something had drained the color away.
Perhaps Anise had been mistaken, and his ailment was physical after all.
I hated the hope budding in my chest at the thought.
“Convenient how?” I said tightly.
Rowland rested his elbow on the stone beside me. His chin lowered and our eyes met easily. I noticed his attention skirt to my white-blonde hair, and I held my head higher in response. “They return quite often, do they not?”
“If you consider the passing of twenty-two years as frequent, you’re much older than you look.” The indentation of his smirk softened, and I found myself speaking too quickly. “No matter their frequency, they bring fortune worthy of celebration.”
“Has this year brought you fortune worthy of celebration, Alyssum?” His question, presented as if he already knew the answer, and the presumed familiarity of wielding my first name fertilized my growing discomfort.
“In its own way,” I conceded, reaching for my goblet and taking another sip.
I wanted to be chastising, yet for reasons beyond my comprehension, the mere thought of upsetting him opened a frosted fissure in my chest. I forced a sweet edge into my words instead.
“And you, Prince Rowland? Has this year brought you good fortune?”
He flashed a startling smile with too-white teeth that nearly reflected the nearby torchlight.
“Evidently,” was all he said as he stared down at me.
I reflexively turned away to assess the mass of villagers below—an action wholly unrelated to the heat that warmed my cheeks and chest uncomfortably, of course.
I wasn’t sure what I’d expected of Rowland, but this was not it.
Despite the charm he’d clearly spent his life cultivating, something about his attention felt menacing.
Damn Anise to the depths for tainting my first impression of my soon-to-be betrothed.
I didn’t know if I could ever feel for a man the way I had for her, but it wasn’t necessary that I be afraid when he’d done nothing to warrant it.
“By sunrise, if rumors have spread that you blush easily, I would like to preemptively proclaim my innocence.” Rowland was too close, and I hated the traitorous hum of my skin in response. Regardless of our circumstance, no one was allowed to have this much of an effect on me.
I took another healthy pull of wine—anything to convince my heart to cease its gallop—only to nearly spill it down my front when Rowland’s cool lips brushed the nape of my neck.
I stepped away in earnest, the shock so bright and immediate it may as well have been a slap.
Pulse rising, I pressed a hand to my core.
A man had never been so forward with me, and despite our impending engagement, there was a disparate sort of heat flaring in my chest.
“Is this customary behavior in Hollowmire?” I questioned, rounding on him with a severe expression. “Must I remind you that we’ve only just met?”
The subtle smirk that had indented his lips dissipated slowly, settling into an expressionless line that I found even less comfort in.
Instinctively, my gaze flitted about the balcony in search of someone, anyone who might loose the tension before it snapped.
But we were its sole inhabitants. The realization lodged in my throat, a knot almost too large to breathe around.
His focus on me, unwavering, two golden orbs locked unnaturally upon my face.
Fear had draped itself over me, a damp cloak clinging to my skin, thickening the silence between us despite the commotion of the courtyard.
“Please forgive me.” The words flew from my mouth before I could stop them. “It appears my goblet runs dry. Perhaps we might—”
“King Lunamor made it clear I need not attend this pathetic excuse for a celebration. I did this for you.”
The charm that coated his accent like ironbark sap had washed away, replaced instead with a cold bite that told me to run. But I ignored the urge; if I was going to be wed to this man, it was imperative—as far as I was concerned—that being near him didn’t feel like a threat.
“I don’t understand.” I attempted to soften my voice in the face of his displeasure.
“Clearly.” Rowland took a step forward, gaze settling on the poppy brooch Tilda had pinned to my chest. “Do you want to know what your father’s plan for you was, Princess?”