Chapter Eighteen
VIOLET
My breakfast sits on the table before me, having long since gone cold, as my mind replays images of a painted sunset sky, Joon’s fingers tangling in my hair as he pulls me to him….
Even days later, the phantom crush of his mouth on mine continues to linger. Heat spreads in my lower belly.
Stop being so ridiculous, I chide inwardly.
Something so simple should not have such a strong effect. After all, it’s not as though it was the first time we kissed.
But it is different, a small, traitorous voice at the back of my mind whispers. All the others were for the sole purpose of siphoning.
I shake my head. While I can admit that part is true, it is equally true that it was nothing more than a whim—a reflex on his part. Joon found one of the final missing shards. It most certainly wasn’t out of desire or affection. It could have easily been any of his previous wives in my place.
I rise from the table and cross to the wardrobe to get ready for the day. A long research session in the library should clear my mind. I am here for one purpose and one purpose only: to help him break the curse so he can live and free the people trapped in the Winter Dragon’s enchanted ice.
I nearly jump out of my skin when a knock at the door jerks me from my thoughts.
It’s too loud to be Iseul or Mingi. It certainly isn’t the prince; Joon lets himself in without announcing himself in any way. Whoever it is, doesn’t speak.
After a pause, they knock again. I finish dressing before answering the door to a stern-faced woman. She’s dressed in the standard deep blues and silver of the Arum palace guard uniform.
“Lady Hawthorn, your presence is requested by the king,” she says flatly.
“What is this about?” I ask, rapidly sifting through all my words and actions since arriving that could possibly warrant a summons, only to come up empty.
The guard stands silently, her gaze fixed straight ahead.
“All right, I’m ready,” I say when it’s clear she can’t or won’t answer me.
She spins on her heel and marches down the hall with the unspoken expectation that I will follow.
Unable to come up with a reason, good or bad, for the king wanting to see me, I allow her to lead the way.
We cut through the open courtyard and through the main gate leading to the central palace. The Temple Tower looms behind another building, small in comparison, though nearly double the size of Joon’s apartments and mine combined.
This must be the Formal Hall and the king’s quarters.
The palace guard stops before five other guards at the double doors. “The king has requested the Lady’s presence,” she announces.
They step aside and allow us through. More guards are posted every thirty feet within the hall.
I feel their eyes on me as we pass.
We continue deeper into the main hall of the Central Court until we finally reach a room at the very center—a heart within a heart. It even feels symbolic.
“Stay here,” She orders, then slips inside, closing the door before I can glimpse what lies beyond.
My escort guard is back within moments, gesturing for me to enter. The door slides shut with a snap.
The room is wide open, with massive, frosted windows on the east and west walls. Most of the space is empty, able to accommodate several hundred court members, formal dinners for anyone of status, including minor nobility, or host a ball.
Sconces made of white metal fashioned into designs resembling delicate lace, spiraling dragons carved into the pillars, and engraved beams overhead serve as the main decorations.
Contrasting against the snowy-white wood of the floor, a cobalt runner starts at the center of the room and ends at the foot of seven steps leading up a dais. Atop the dais, the king sits upon a wide throne with an identical empty throne to the right.
At the bottom of the steps, two fae officials stand on either side of the runner.
They wear the traditional robes denoting their position.
A layer of white that begins with a high, straight collar and ends an inch above the floor, with wide sleeves that end halfway down the hand.
The top layer is a sleeveless, sheer material in a smoky blue with a midnight trim.
The robes wrap around the front of their chests, held in place by a wide belt, knotted at their left hip.
Each belt has a symbol embroidered on one of the dangling ends.
I walk forward. The female official flicks her wrist in a sharp motion, halting me several feet away.
With no instructions or guidance on how to conduct myself in formal situations like this, I am at a loss for what to do beyond the obvious.
I bow deeply and say, “Good morning, Your Majesty.”
The male official snorts derisively. I bristle inwardly but am careful not to react.
“I am sure you are curious as to why I summoned you.”
“I am… Your Majesty,” I say.
Demons and saints, I hope no one caught the tremor in my voice.
The king stands and clasps his hands at his low back as he casually strolls down the stairs. I force my feet to root me in place, fighting against the nerves that push my heart to beat faster.
Remain calm, Violet.
“There is no cause for concern, Lady Hawthorn.” The king pauses at the bottom of the dais and smiles warmly. “I called you here because there is a small matter of official business to address.”
Confusion furrows my brow. I can’t help the feeling of betrayal. Neither Joon, Mingi, nor Iseul bothered to warn me that I would be expected to perform “official business” in any capacity.
I don’t notice the king moving closer until he’s less than an arm’s length away. He reaches for my hand and holds it between both of his in a move that takes me by surprise. I barely stop myself in time from yanking my arm back from the unexpected touch.
Why am I acting like this? We have spoken before and walked together.
“Be at ease, Violet. Have we not talked and walked together before?” he says in an eerie echo of my thoughts.
“I apologize if I failed to adequately perform the duties of my position,” I hurry to say, even though I have no idea what they are. “I will do better—”
The king chuckles. “It is nothing to worry yourself over. I wanted to know how you are faring since we last spoke,” he says with fatherly concern.
“I am well, Your Majesty.” I cringe at the way I repeat myself. It makes me sound as though I only know a handful of words.
“Good. Good. Now, for the reason I sent for you, I wanted to make sure you understood why you have not been given the typical luxuries due to someone in your position.”
What else can there be? I have my own palace in the southern court, fine clothes, and the best food.
“I haven’t given it a moment’s thought,” I say honestly. “I have more than I need.”
“Rest assured, it will be remedied once you are presented to the court,” he continues as though I hadn’t spoken.
“It should have happened within a few days of your arrival and is long past due. Usually, it falls to the Crown Prince to arrange it, but he has been selfishly keeping you all to himself.” The king smirks, finding humor in his own words that I don’t understand.
“I had no idea,” I say.
Surely, this is not what he wanted to discuss?
“Worry not, I will personally see it taken care of before the month is out. The head seamstress is already hard at work on your gown.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. I am honored.”
He shifts closer, almost intimately close. His eyes darken. “Our Crown Prince is quite fond of you.”
I frown at the casual turn in conversation. An odd sensation prickles along the back of my neck. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
A wave of dizziness slips over me, and my pulse picks up. I feel like I am going to be sick. I am one wrong move away from offending the king in an unforgivable way by being sick all over his shoes.
“Our prince has rarely spent time with any of his previous wives, yet I have it on good authority that you are often seen in his presence.”
He reaffirms what Joon said during dinner the night we arrived at the palace—that we are constantly being monitored.
It doesn’t seem too unusual for random servants to report the happenings of the palace to the king, especially anything that could be deemed out of the ordinary.
If I lie and he notices, there’s no telling what the consequences will be. Against my better judgment, the urge to explain is overwhelming.
Tingling prickles lodge in my throat in warning. I try to swallow it down, but it’s no use. The power of the bargain settles, ready to silence any words that might give it away.
I’m at a loss.
“So, by your silence, may I assume you have come to the same conclusion?”
Though I’m not entirely sure how that could be a bad thing, I am left with the nagging sensation that it will only complicate matters. My heart squeezes, sending a sharp ache radiating through my chest.
Demons, no… please, not now.
“I am afraid I don’t know him well enough to understand his feelings one way or another, Your Majesty.” I focus on smothering the telltale signs of an impending episode.
He nods. “That is understandable.”
“I only wish to do what is required of me,” I offer as a platitude.
“You may be my favorite one yet,” he murmurs so only I can hear. The rapid thudding of my heart against my ribs makes the soothing tones of his voice into something ominous.
My nerves are completely frayed. Earlier, I could dismiss it as anxiety over the possibility of unintentionally insulting the crown. But now there’s little chance of quelling the impending episode.
Demons and saints, I need to get out of here.
My episodes have never come on so fast, over such a small amount of stress. My heart won’t last much longer if this is all it takes.
I cannot die yet. We have to break the curse.
“I would hate to see anything happen to you,” the king adds.
The blood drains from my face, and my entire body goes cold in the span of a single breath. “Your Majesty?” My voice comes out in a pathetic whimper.
Another sharp pain pinches inside my chest. I don’t have long before I can no longer hide what’s happening.
Now I do pull my hand from his.
The king keeps his voice low and even, as one would when trying to capture a wild animal. “Forgive me. I only meant that I do not wish to see you end up like the others.” His head lists ever so slightly to the side. “Have you seen them yet?”
Too focused on smothering my impending episode long enough to make it somewhere else, I can barely make sense of what he is saying.
I shake my head while trying not to wince at the increasing pain. “Seen who, Your Majesty?”
“They reside at the back of the royal crypt.” He lowers his gaze to the floor and sighs. “I have suggested he send them back to their families, but he insists on keeping them as his trophies.”
I suck in a sharp breath as another pain stabs at my heart. Thankfully, he takes it for a shocked reaction.
“You may visit them if it is what you need to realize the full scope of the risk your position entails.”
The door is flung wide, interrupting our conversation. I whip my head around to see Joon cutting the distance with long strides.
“Ah, there you are, Wife. I have been looking everywhere for you.”
I nearly choke from the way he says Wife. It’s sharp. Possessive. It will only further add to the king’s belief that he has genuine feelings for me.
“J—” I start, but his name dies in my throat as he wraps his fingers around my wrist and tugs me to his side with so much force that I bump into him.
Joon’s eyes find mine, and I realize my near error.
“Did you forget?” he asks just as another surge of pain lances through me. “There is somewhere you are supposed to be.”
I gape at him. His features are arranged in a placid expression, but a dark fire burns behind his eyes.
My breaths grow shallower by the minute. I’m lightheaded.
Joon knows what my episodes look like, having seen plenty of them, so I’m unsure if I’ve actually forgotten something important or if this is an excuse to get me out of here.
“I-I believe I did.” He twitches one brow, and I hastily add, “My Prince.”
Stars form across my vision. I want to reach out and grab hold of Joon to steady myself, but I don’t.
Joon turns to the king and bows his head in respect. “If you are finished here, would you please excuse us, My King?”
King Sameun presses his mouth into a thin line, considering Joon for a moment.
“Your timing is excellent. We just finished our talk,” he says, then turns his piercing eyes on me.
“See to it that you do not overtax her… she does not look well. And we wouldn’t want to have another incident, especially so soon. ”
Joon bows at the waist. I do the same, glad when I don’t topple over onto my head. My hands are shaking from the pain, and I clasp them tightly together as we walk out of the throne room.
Once we are beyond the doors, the prince grabs my upper arm and practically drags me down the hall until we reach a secluded alcove. Joon stops and presses my back to the wall.
The prince cups my jaw with both hands. Cooling strands of power seep into me, slowing my heartbeat and dousing the fiery pain.
It will never cease to amaze me how he can stop my episodes and leave me feeling as if it never even happened.
Taking my first deep breath, I lift my gaze to his scowling face.
Did he hear what the king said? Is he upset with me?
There’s nothing I could have done to get out of that situation on my own. Surely, he understands that.
I study the prince. There are still fathomless depths to him that remain a mystery. He is flawed just like everyone else, temperamental, and walled off, but even so, I have a hard time believing he would keep his dead wives as trophies.
I suppress a shudder at the grim image.
At one time, I might have believed Prince Joon capable of something so morbid and cold. But not now.
It makes me wonder if the king has never made an effort to know the prince or, like most others, if he simply took everything he’s ever said or done at face value.
“Are you angry with me?” I ask. “I didn’t know how—”
Joon’s eyes soften. “You did nothing wrong. I was worried when Iseul said you were not in your rooms when she came for you.” His eyes cut to glare back the way we came.
“I’m sorry…” I trail off, still not able to recall. “I am not usually so forgetful.”
A smirk spreads over his mouth. “I am taking you into town.” Prince Joon takes my hand and pulls me along.
My brow furrows. That’s definitely something I would remember.
Before we leave the cover of the central palace awning, Joon pauses and lets his fingers slide away, releasing me. “It’s not Lummi, but I thought you might like to see what the capital has to offer. When this is over, and we have time, I can take you back to that bookstore, if you would like.”
I blink. “How…?”
“It was hard to miss the way you nearly toppled both of us off the horse as we passed.” He begins walking again.
I smile at his back and follow.