Chapter 13
Thirteen
Lory
The palace was a dream of carved limestone, marble, and fountains of all sorts that cooled the air to make it breathable even while stuck in a dress with a light corset.
Suppressing the urge to fidget as she stood at Khayrivven’s side, she admired his supreme skills at small talk and wished there weren’t a hundred people attending this event.
She’d kept her eyes open the way Khayrivven had told her to, marking the layout of the room, the exits and entrances, the side-spaces (three smaller rooms on one side), and the large balcony along the wall with the room-high windows.
Skipping over the colorfully dressed courtiers, Lory had counted the guards positioned at each of the doors, the weaknesses of their beige and gold uniforms, and the number and type of their weapons.
She’d have a hard time winning against any of them armed with only a knife, but even in this dress, she’d easily outrun them.
Their chest protectors would slow them, and the spears would restrict their movements.
Khayrivven paused the brief monologue he’d been giving about the most recent full moon, pretending to listen to the gentleman in cactus green who had just joined the small, casual group of courtiers they were standing with, to lean down and inform her, “Stop glancing around like a trapped coyote. It will draw attention.”
Ignoring his own warning that there would be no physical contact between them once they’d entered the palace, he looped her arm around his elbow, patting her hand in the same patronizing way she’d observed other men doing with their accessory women, and something inside her stomach revolted.
This wasn’t the sort of touch she craved from Khayrivven, yet it was the touch the world needed to see in order to keep up the facade that she was nothing more than another painted face in a tailored dress, here to impress whatever gentleman she could get her hands on, as Khayrivven had phrased it on their way inside the building.
With a smooth grin, he guided her away from the group, leaving the courtiers to their chatter.
“Nothing interesting so far,” he commented as they promenaded past a row of columns that reminded Lory of the prop pillars in the training parcours. “But good we are making casual conversation. This way we’ll blend into the picture.”
He inclined his head at a group of women giggling at the side of the room, his smile polite and inviting. Lory hated the twinge of jealousy trying to claw from her stomach into her chest. This was part of the mission, just as her own smiles were.
As if to prove a point, one of the noblemen lining the long buffet tables at the side of the polished marble dance floor peeled away, murmuring something at the man next to him before heading straight for her, a broad grin on his face, which Lory, according to protocol, had to reciprocate.
Khayrivven slowed, his arm tightening around hers the slightest bit as the tall, handsome, young man approached them.
A face warm brown with slight freckles, full lips parted in a toothy smile, dark eyes under groomed brows, shoulder-length chestnut hair bound at the nape of his neck.
Add the sepia and gold finery his athletic frame was clad in, and a perfect nobleman stood before them, his intentions as unreadable as those of anyone in this room.
He stopped right in front of Lory, inclining his head at her as he waited for her to sink into a curtsy.
Beside her, Khayrivven stood stiffer than his role should have allowed.
“Lord Niely,” he ground out between gritted teeth, his smile faltering for a heartbeat.
“What a pleasure to see you at this dance.” His fingers covered Lory’s on his forearm as if he was ready to use force if she intended to let go of him.
“I wasn’t aware you would be in attendance. ”
Niely straightened, dipping his chin at Khayrivven, smile widening as if he’d just found a toy he’d considered lost. “Khayrivven Falcrest. I almost didn’t notice you there.
” He raised a brow, shooting Lory a brief grin.
“The last time I saw you, you were crawling through dust to lick King Ulder’s boots.
Look at you all cleaned up and ready to join society.
” The glance of appreciation he gave Khayrivven made the hair stand on Lory’s neck. “You’ve come far, my friend.”
When she noticed the shaking of Khayrivven’s arm beneath her fingers, she realized that he wasn’t holding her in place; he was actually holding on to her. Whatever history he had with Lord Niely obviously triggered something in him.
When Khayrivven said nothing, Niely turned back to Lory.
“And what lovely company you have brought. Your newest conquest, I assume?” Niely took a step sideways, eyeing Lory like she was livestock for appraisal rather than a human being.
“I can take her off your arm if you need a break, my friend. Just like the old days.” Niely laughed, the sound both charming and utterly sickening, considering the meaning of his words.
Lory half-expected Khayrivven to summon the fire in his veins and burn the nobleman alive before running him through with one of the probably ten blades she was certain he’d hidden on his person, but the Flame-born captain removed his hand from hers, stepping aside with an incline of his head.
“Just like the old days,” he repeated, dipping his chin at Lory.
“You’ll find Lord Niely’s company enchanting, Miss Vednis,” he said in that velvet tone she loved and feared because, this time, it came with an order.
He didn’t need to speak the words to let Lory know this was someone she could draw information from, and that, no matter how much he seemed to hate Niely, Khayrivven needed to fulfill this mission.
His sister’s life depended on it—and so did his.
“Miss Vednis,” Niely purred, his smile turning into a suggestive grin.
“I have not seen you around. Are you new?” He held out his hand, waiting for Lory to place a reluctant palm into his open one, and when she did, he tugged her to his side to loop her arm into his, securing her hand in place the way Khayrivven had done a moment ago.
“The captain doesn’t usually bring his conquests to social events, Miss Vednis. You must be special.”
The suggestion in his tone made Lory want to crawl out of her skin.
“So where did you two meet?” Niely’s eyes sparked with curiosity as he led her toward the empty spot by the buffet tables.
Lory forbade herself to glance back at Khayrivven, but her eyes wouldn’t listen, and when she found him still standing there, a storm brewing in his gaze, she decided Gilded training hadn’t properly prepared her for this mission.
It was time to take matters into her own hands.
Forcing her sweetest smile onto her lips, Lory shuttered her eyes, blinking up at Lord Niely.
“That’s not as interesting a story as how the two of you met, I’m sure.
” She leaned a little into the nobleman beside her, pretending to appreciate the pastries and confections sitting in artful arrangements on gilded plates.
“Would you mind handing me one of those chocolates?” An innocent expression didn’t come naturally to her, but Lory managed as she did her best not to let on that she knew exactly what she was doing.
“They look like they’ll melt in your mouth. ”
Niely hesitated for a brief moment; then delight entered his expression as she showed interest in him and his story, no longer paying attention to Khayrivven, whose gaze she could still sense like a brand.
“Of course, Miss Vednis.” Niely picked up a small golden plate, holding it under her nose to let her smell the crushed flower petals sprinkled on top of the small, round confection.
She played along, closing her eyes as she pretended to savor the scent of wildness and sweet, her fire magic searing her veins from the inside, reminding her of the dangers lurking in this palace.
Yes, she was an invited guest, part of a mission the Triad had sanctioned to find out who caused unrest, but she was also Flame-born, and letting her powers seep through would mean she might lose her head. In the literal sense this time.
As Niely lowered the plate, she seized the opportunity to take it and clasp it between her fingers just to keep her hands busy, forcing calm into her veins as they noticed the dark couverture started sweating at the bottom, where it sat on the warming, gilded porcelain.
Shit-shit-shit. If she waited, the little thing would slowly dissolve on the plate, but if she picked it up and ate it, it would melt right there, in her fingers, and Niely would suspect something was up.
A searching gaze around the room informed her Khayrivven was no longer within view—and even if he was, what would he do? He could barely interfere when he’d basically given an order for Lory to withdraw information from Lord Niely.
“You know what?” She reached past the nobleman, setting the plate as far toward the center of the table as possible so no one would notice its suspicious temperature, and turned toward the dance floor, where couples in tulle, chiffon, and raw silk were moving in elegant circles.
“You can tell me all about how the two of you know each other while you show me around.” When Niely stared at her like she’d grown a second head, she tilted her head and forced a smile.
“I’ve never been to this palace, and I bet a worldly man like you has collected plenty of stories about a gem like this. ”
A self-satisfied grin entered the lord’s expression. “You’ve asked the right man, Miss Vednis.” He placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her out of the line by the buffet and past the spinning couples while Lory merely prayed he wouldn’t take her hand and wrap it around his arm again.