47. Rahzlyn
Rahzlyn
Within minutes of the ball’s commencement, I’d determined each baron to be insufferable.
Their spoiled, entitled families and friends—the rest of the queendom’s nobles—were no better.
All were dressed in gorgeous black garments that dripped with expensive jewels—myself included.
I was adorned in stones of luck and protection around my arms, legs, and even my feet.
I enjoyed fine dresses and jewelry, but such excessiveness was in poor taste given the state of the queendom.
Maryn kept her distance, sitting at a separate table and letting the advisors facilitate introductions.
Only Baron Ionis attended alone. The rest of the nobles notably kept their distance from him, though he didn’t seem to mind.
He stole several glances in my direction across the round table we feasted at, but I ignored him.
I said nothing throughout most of the dinner portion, instead listening to the conversations around me to ascertain how to connect with these out-of-touch nobles.
Mel would laugh in their haughty faces—or would she?
I certainly wanted to. I hadn’t been able to shake my anger since Raithe’s and Felaf’s revelation, and I was one ignorant remark away from snapping.
The truth was, I didn’t know Mel at all. Our friendship was never real, and I’d been a puppet for everyone to string along. Everything had pointed to Kole being an apostate, I was just too ignorant to want to believe it.
I’d scarcely acknowledged Raithe since the incident in the city. He knew from the beginning what Kole was and had kept it from me. He’d let me prattle about Kole like a damned fool.
Mostly, though, I was furious with my dead brother—my twin. Had I even known him at all?
“Surely you must have some royal education,” the wife of a baron queried me in disbelief. I couldn’t remember which city she and her husband hailed from, nor our words exchanged up to that point. “I can’t recall the last time we had a queen with no proper schooling, can you?”
The tables had been cleared, and an ensemble of musicians took control of the room’s ambience.
The hall had been decorated lavishly with candles everywhere and beadery draped over mirrors and candelabras.
Dark red geraniums bloomed in each corner, with petals scattered across the shiny flooring and even in the pond on the terrace outside at the base of the waterfall.
My attention shifted frequently to the performers and singers that comprised a tune synonymous with the one I’d danced to in Antares.
At my distinctly prolonged silence, the noblewoman laughed. “Of course, with no education how could you even know the answer to that?” She patted my arm. I stared at the patronizing contact. “I’m sure the queen regent is taking excellent care to remedy such incompetence.”
“Can you?”
She cocked her head slightly at me. “Can I what?”
“Recall the last uneducated Scorpion queen?”
She blinked. “Well, that’s not something I would be privy to—”
“But you did attend an Academy,” I reminded her. “And according to you, such a fact should be known. So?”
The woman scoffed, looking to her husband for support.
I clinked my glass against hers. “Cheers to our incompetence.” I downed the rest of my wine and went in search of another. I didn’t know how much longer I could tolerate this.
Gregorios engaged in a conversation with Alekko, and Maryn snagged the attention on the dance floor with another baron I recognized from the tutors’ portraits.
Despite my ire, I wanted to join them and put my lessons to use with this beautiful music, forgetting my shattered world and every liar in it.
I touched the dress’s fabric across my chest, feeling the outline of Raithe’s communica hidden beneath it. He hadn’t asked for it back, and I hadn’t bothered to replace it with a different one belonging to the court.
I sensed his gaze on me from somewhere in the room. The weight of his communica burned between my breasts.
It seemed that no matter what path I chose, betrothed to Jere or not, I was destined for this stifling, noble life.
Stars—Jere. If I were to survive my trial, I would have to face him and his intolerable mother at a function like this.
If either recognized me, or threatened to expose my identity, the knowledge of her condition and Jere’s apostate affiliation would have to be enough to extort their silence.
It would need to be.
I drifted to the edge of the room, surprised at how much I wished for Letti’s surly company, until a male voice interrupted my brief moment of solitude.
“Care for a dance, Princess?”
I turned. “Baron Ionis.” He was the only one I recognized from the portraits, given how popular his name had been recently. I couldn’t exactly decline with a good reason, so I set my empty glass down on a nearby tray. Tentatively, I took his extended hand. “Pleasure to officially meet you.”
“I assure you, the pleasure is all mine.”
We remained on the outskirts rather than joining the center where a dozen or so other couples moved to the soft rhythm that played. With palms raised and splayed against one another, we danced in a slow circle.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” I said. “I assumed you would still be in mourning.”
Something sparked in his eyes. “And I’m surprised you’re bold enough to say such a thing. Everyone, especially our queen regent, wisely avoids such topics at events like this.”
I took in his short brown hair and matching kempt beard.
While otherwise plain, there was something almost nefarious lurking in his slightly glazed eyes.
“I don’t see the point in feigning disinterest. How are you faring?
” This was such a sensitive subject—one I likely shouldn’t have broached. But I was tired of false pretenses.
The baron’s steps faltered momentarily. “Fine. Though I could do without the constant surveillance.”
“Surely you’re not surprised by it? Your wife was—”
“I know exactly who my wife was,” he snapped. I reared back. He composed himself quickly with a crooked smile. “Let’s discuss a lighter topic, shall we? You were in my district during the recent attack. I was relieved to learn you were unharmed.”
“Many were not so fortunate.”
“Such is the way these days, I’m afraid. Might I ask what you were doing there? Had I known of your presence, I could have ensured extra protection for you.” From his suspicious tone, I got the sense he didn’t care about my safety. Rather, he was nosy to understand what I’d been up to.
“I wanted to get to know the people that I might hopefully rule.”
“And? Did you accomplish that?” He moved our hands further apart, allowing his face to draw nearer to mine. His breath reeked of wine. “Were you impressed with my city?”
His city? “Disappointed, actually.”
“Oh?”
“I watched a starving boy be killed. He didn’t do anything wrong except climb through the gate—”
“That gate and its surrounding walls exist for a reason. When resources are as limited as they have been for us, we must guard what remains.”
I glossed over his fine clothing. Diamonds glittered from the cuffs and collar of his black tunic. Jewels adorned his neck and wrists. “Yes, I can see you are doing everything you can to spare your resources.”
The skin around his eyes twitched. “I hear you did not attend an Academy.” He paused. “It certainly shows.”
I counted down the seconds until the song, lovely as it was, ended.
“Whatever tutors they’ve provided you, it’s clear you have much to learn about how things work. I would love to teach you myself, in a more intimate and private setting. Perhaps my townhome the next time you are feeling adventurous, so you do not have to witness such vexing situations?”
“Perhaps.”
Baron Ionis’s eyes dragged lazily over my face before landing on my hair. “You are certainly not what I envisioned.”
“How so?” I asked flatly.
“Dare I say you are awfully too appealing to be a princess.” His perusal continued down my torso, lingering unabashedly before catching on my hair again. “Such a shame you’re Chosen now.”
“And why might that be?”
“Though you aren’t technically a queen yet. I wonder if the Treaty applies to…” He removed his hand from mine. I stiffened when he toyed with a curl dangling around my face.
“Baron Ionis,” I warned, my hand clamping over his.
His lips curled into a grin that had my insides churning. “Yes, Princess?”
“This is not part of the customary dance.”
“No? Hm. How about this?” His other hand dropped to my hip.
“Remove yourself,” I ground out, squirming beneath his grip. I didn’t want to make a scene, but I couldn’t bear another second of his bold sordidness.
He’d angled us so that none could see his exploring hand. “You wouldn’t know, with your uneducated background, that this is the kind of dancing they teach—”
He yelped just as his fingers teased the slit in my gown.
“Do as your princess commands,” a voice growled, “and keep your fucking hands to yourself.”
Raithe.
His velvet-cloaked back affronted my view as he situated himself between Baron Ionis and me. Peeking around his broad shoulders, I found him twisting the baron’s wrists at a sharp angle. The music continued, but most of the couples had halted their dancing to watch the unfolding scene.
Felaf appeared, concern etched into her features as Raithe maintained his unyielding hold.
“I’m fine,” I told them despite my jittery hands.
“I think he gets the message, Raithe,” Felaf said. “Let him go before Maryn makes her way over here.”
“Do you?” Raithe demanded. “Get the message?”
“Yes,” Baron Ionis ground out.
“Good.” Raithe released him with a petty shove.
The baron held his arms to his chest as enmity oozed from his gaze. But whatever he saw in Raithe’s eyes had him backing down from a snarky retort. Wisely, he retreated from the ballroom with his guards in tow.