Chapter 2 #2
“I’m a swift judge of character.”
Something about the way he says it sends a chill along the back of my neck.
Or it might just be one of those damp, drafty breezes that sometimes waft through the air shafts of this cursed underground palace.
I shiver and drop my gaze, only to find myself staring down my own prominently displayed décolletage.
I should be dead right now; embarrassment ought, by rights, to have killed me.
“Just please keep that knife out of sight,” I mutter. “Tuck it into your boot or something. I mean, I can’t say I blame you for slipping one past the gate wards. I’d carry a knife if they’d let me! This place feels like it’s positively crawling with goblins and frights.”
“Not to mention the six combatants eager to gut each other for a chance to marry you.” With those words, he frees the first cord at last and lets it drop.
Now he concentrates his attention on the second, more stubbornly entwined one.
My heart beats so loud, I’m sure he can hear it, but he gives no indication.
Nor does his gaze shift from his task. It seems to have absorbed him completely. I can’t even hear him breathe.
Finally, he pulls the second lace free, lets go, and turns so abruptly one would think I’d struck him.
He pointedly puts his head back, staring up at the stalactites hanging from the high ceiling while I pull my bodice shut.
Should I slip away now? He’s obviously giving me a chance to escape, standing like that.
Maybe I should gather my skirts and make for the stairs, and the next time we happen to see each other we can both pretend I never gave him a prime view of everything Mother Vialth, Goddess of Fertility, chose to bless me with.
Securing the laces with an unstylish granny knot, I swallow hard and assume what I hope passes for a dignified demeanor. “I thank you, good sir. And…well, I hope you won’t read anything into what happened.”
“What happened?” he echoes in that toe-tingling rumble of his.
“The kiss. And the…bodice bursting.”
He’s looking at me again, a sideways glance from the corner of his eye. “And what would I read into it?”
“I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of wanton flirt. I just needed to get Prince Taigan off my tail. He seems to think because he’s the High King’s nephew that means he’s already won this cursed competition, but—”
“Prince Taigan won’t be winning anything.”
The force of his words shocks me. Would a house guard only just arrived that day have had opportunity to form an opinion on the champions who have come from across the six Kingdoms of Belanor to contend for the honor of my hand?
Maybe he watched them spar earlier this morning.
I have not yet personally met any of the champions aside from Prince Taigan and cannot help my curiosity.
“You think not?” I ask with rather more hope than I should probably let on.
“I mean, everyone says he’s the greatest warrior in Belanor.
The way they talk about him, one would assume he was a demigod sent to save us all!
Who do you think might beat him? Prince Bryon of Ulyon?
I’ve heard he’s quite formidable, but I’ve not seen him. ”
“It won’t be Prince Bryon who carries the day.”
“You seem quite sure about this.” I cross my arms. “Who’s your money on then?”
He’s silent for a long moment, looking at me.
Or rather not looking but gazing. As though he’s trying to peel away the outer layers of my being and get a glimpse into my soul.
And who exactly would he find there? The woman I’ve always believed myself to be: Rosie the apothecary’s assistant, defender of small, fluffy things, bane of demon cats?
Or Princess Roselle Pandracor the dragon’s daughter?
I draw a shuddering breath. “Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop looking at me like that. It’s unnerving.”
He cocks his head. The hard angles of his face are difficult to read. “Forgive me, Princess,” he says. “I don’t mean to unnerve.”
“And don’t call me that!”
“What? Princess?”
“Yes.”
“It’s what you are.”
“So they tell me.” My lip curls. “I’m not sure I believe them.” Shaking my head, I flick a spring of curl out of my face and glare up at him. “You still haven’t answered.”
He nods slowly. Then, after a too-long silence: “Prince Valtar.”
“Who?”
“Prince Valtar Skylock. Of Inithana.”
I frown. “Where’s that?”
“It’s a small kingdom. In the Khylmira Continent.”
“Isn’t that…” I hesitate, as though speaking the next words will bring evil racing through every ward and protection right to the subterranean doorstep of Stromin Palace. “Isn’t that her domain?”
“Yes.”
No question, no confusion. We all know which her we mean when uttered in that tone of voice.
I shudder. “Aren’t they the High King’s enemies then?”
“Yes. But King Travarn of Inithana defied the dracori when they invaded and fought to drive Mhoryga’s fire from his land. He was burned at the stake for his troubles. But his sons were spared. One swore allegiance to Mhoryga and took up the dracori mantle. The other did not.”
“So this Prince Valtar…he is King Travarn’s surviving son?”
“Yes.”
“I see.” I consider this information, rolling both the name and the brief history around in my head.
“I would imagine,” I muse out loud, “he’s developed some formidable survival skills after all this time.
Eluding dracori and whatnot.” A smile breaks across my face, and I lift my gaze to the stranger’s once more.
“Maybe you’re right then. Maybe Taigan won’t walk away with the victory after all. ”
“He won’t.”
I tip an eyebrow. “I wish I had your confidence.”
“You don’t strike me as a woman lacking in confidence.”
Suddenly the memory of that kiss is very present on my lips.
Judging by the way his gaze has dropped and now fixes on my mouth, I suspect he’s not forgotten either.
It was a very nice kiss after all. Maybe a little too nice.
Or maybe I’m just remembering it wrong. The heat of the moment, the tension and embarrassment, may have made for an exaggerated experience.
I would have to kiss him again to know for sure.
Oh gods. Time to go.
“Thank you so much for your assistance,” I say, pushing away from the wall and clutching handfuls of embroidered skirts in both fists. “I must be on my way. It’s been a long morning. If it’s even been a morning. Who knows down here? Either way, Philippa will be expecting me, so I’d best be off.”
I take a few steps. But he’s in front of me, barring my way to the stairs. And he doesn’t move.
I tip my head back and then back a little more, painting a carefully bland smile across my lips. “Oh, by the by, I don’t believe I caught your name?”
Though I leave a gap for him to supply an answer, the stranger merely bows. “If you ever require my assistance again in similar capacity, you might consider…asking next time.”
Marvelous. Now another flood of heat is roaring up my neck.
Just when I’d gotten the worst of my blushes under control!
I grip my skirts tighter, resisting the urge to clap both palms to my cheeks.
My skin is burning hot, and wouldn’t it be just my luck if, after all this fuss and bother, sheer embarrassment was all it took to bring my so-called “gift” blazing to life?
Not today. Not if I can help it.
With a little dart, I sidestep around him and hasten to the top of the stairs, desperately hoping I don’t look like a panicked deer in flight.
“Princess?”
I stop. Wince. Gods, but I really hate that title! Grimacing, I look back. He’s moved out of the scintil light. It’s impressive how thoroughly he fades into the background. Most people wouldn’t notice him at all, not unless they really knew where to look. “Yes?”
“How did you see me? Standing where I was?”
“You mean behind the curtain like some sort of sneak thief?” I smirk. “Easy. I can see in the dark. Mostly. I always thought it was just a knack, but they tell me it has something to do with my heritage. A dragon trait, or some such nonsense.”
“Ah.” His chin tips up slightly, his eyes catching the light in a brief glimmer. “Interesting.”
“Yes. I suppose it is.” I hesitate, lick my lips. “Well—”
“Princess Roselle!”
A startled thrill jolts up the back of my spine.
Whirling in a flurry of skirts, I gape down the stairway to see Lady Philippa appear, lifting a handheld scintil to illuminate me from below.
It casts strange highlights across her face, making her appear quite ghoulish from this angle.
A furious spark glints in her dark eyes.
“I’ve been looking absolutely everywhere for you!
” she cries, raising the front of her voluminous skirts and mounting the steps with a practiced grace that quite shames me.
“The Presentation is tonight, don’t you remember?
You were supposed to return from your lessons with Master Gormon an hour ago, and when I tried to find Captain Norlan to ask after your whereabouts, he was nowhere to be—Goddess spare me!
” She stops dead halfway up, her mouth rounding in an O of horror. “What have you done to your bodice?”
I grimace, my hand flying to my bosom. “It’s all right. The laces got a bit snarled, but he got them undone easily enough, and I don’t think any—”
“What?” She is up the second half of the stairway in an instant, an avenging angel on a mission of swift and terrible justice.
“Who was undoing your laces? Where is he? I demand to know!” Her hand latches on to my wrist even as she swings her scintil, casting its light into the stone passage behind me.
“Oh, no, it was nothing like that,” I protest. “He was very helpful and respectful, and…” My voice trails away as I look back over my shoulder.
The stranger is gone. As though I’d merely conjured him from shadows.