10. Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
D espite having dinner with him every night, I haven’t spoken to Viridian in weeks. Since he confronted me after I found Loren in the dungeon.
I haven’t left my room much, either. Not like he gave me much of a choice. True to his word, one of the guards posted outside my bedchamber locks the door every night, right after sunset. Though even if I could, I wouldn’t dare to be caught sneaking around again.
Caught by him.
Maybe it’s my wounded pride.
Or maybe I’m losing hope that I can free Loren and escape this gods-forsaken place at all.
I sit at my vanity table, bent over a drawing. This one is of Father. He sits on the floor in front of the hearth in our house, the way he does in the winter after a long, cold day in the gold mines. There’s dirt on his nose and in his hair, but his eyes are warm and alight with joy. I could stare at it for hours.
But the knock at my door pulls me away, and I rise to answer it.
“Good morning,” Viridian says awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. He wears an untucked, loose-fitting white shirt, the V-neck collar showing off part of his chiseled collarbones. His black pants hang low on his hips, and it takes more strength than I’d like to admit not to look.
“Good morning.” I force myself to look up at his face. Though, even still, I’m tempted to stare. His strong jawline, aquiline nose, high cheekbones…
Then I remember my anger. My loathing. The locks on my chamber door, for gods’ sake.
Enough of that.
“You…” Viridian’s voice trails off, amber gaze fixed to my lips. “You have charcoal on your face.”
I laugh, though it’s a humorless sound. “Typical.”
I pull my sleeve down to hold it in place before moving my arm up to rub away the charcoal.
“Let me,” Viridian says softly. He touches his thumb to his tongue and reaches for my face. As he does, he watches me and moves slowly, as if he expects me to turn away.
But I don’t.
This male stole me from my home, from my family, and is holding me captive.
Why don’t I turn away?
Looking down at me, staring into my eyes, Viridian brushes his thumb back and forth across my cheek to wipe away the black smudges.
When he’s done, his hand lingers on my face for a moment. His touch sends electricity rippling through my skin. I feel captivated by him, drawn to his proximity. Then he pulls away, his eyes still locked with mine. It makes me wonder if he feels it, too.
“There,” he says at last. “It’s gone now.”
“Thank you,” I tell him. He’s close enough that I can feel the warmth of his body. I could reach out and touch him, if I wanted to. Could run my hands along his lean, muscled abdomen. Could bring my hand lower, beneath the waistband of his pants.
You are in love with another man, I remind myself.
Though, I’m not even sure of that anymore.
Still, I shouldn’t be having these thoughts about someone other than Loren while he’s imprisoned. Especially not about someone I despise. The one responsible for everything Loren and I have had to endure.
“You’re welcome.” Viridian’s deep voice rumbles in his throat. He lowers his hands, though his fingers curl out, as if to take mine.
“Is there something you need?” I ask. The hardness returns to my voice.
“Something I need?” he echoes, looking lost.
“Yes. You came to see me, didn’t you?”
“Oh. Yes.” He nods, like he suddenly remembers. “It seems that we weren’t—we didn’t get off on the right foot.” He swallows, glancing away from me. “I’d like to start again.”
“Start again?” I hold back a snort. To truly start again, he’d need to take me home to Slyfell. But that will never happen.
“Yes,” he says earnestly. “I’d like to court you, if you’ll allow it.”
“Court me?” This time, I do let out a snort. “Are you serious?”
“Perfectly serious,” he echoes, tightening his mouth.
“Why now?” I ask. Doing little to hide my suspicion, I narrow my eyes.
“My father, he—” Viridian pauses. His forehead creases with focus, as if he’s working to collect his thoughts. “Neither of us asked for this betrothal, yet here we are. I believe—I hope —there’s still time for us to be friends. Because I would rather marry a friend, than some human woman that barely knows me, and hates me anyway.”
I lean back and cross my arms. He looks at me with such hope, that it almost feels too cruel to crush it .
“If I agree to this,” I say, raising my chin, “then I want the locks off my door.”
He sighs, as if he knew this was coming. “Very well,” he says at last. “No more locks.”
I stare at him for a moment, mulling over his proposal. Though, despite how much I’d rather not spend time with him, I know it would be foolish of me to reject it.
“Fine,” I sigh, cursing myself for agreeing to this. “I’ll allow you to court me. But I can’t promise that I won’t still hate you once we get to know each other.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Then, Viridian flashes me a smile. It lights something in my chest—a spark that catches and sends heat flooding through me.
I extinguish it with a single thought.
No. Not him.
Aggravation has me grinding my teeth. Why does he affect me like this?
“Walk with me,” Viridian says abruptly. He clears his throat. “Erm—will you walk with me?”
He watches me intently, practically pinning me in place with the intensity of his stare.
“Yes.” I look over my shoulder at my sketchbook. I’ll come back to it later.
He holds out his arm for me to take, but I don’t. Receiving the message, he lowers his arm and falls in step beside me .
Viridian and I walk downstairs. I expect him to lead me to the courtyard, but he doesn’t. We walk through the castle and turn past the kitchens, avoiding the area where he caught me poking around. He stops and opens a door for me, waiting until I’m through.
When we pass the stables, he leans his head back to soak up the sun. Inhaling, his expression relaxes.
“I’ve always felt more at home out here,” he says, looking over at me as we walk. “The castle walls…” His voice trails off.
“They suffocate you.” I know how that feels.
“Yes.” Viridian nods, amber eyes narrowing. “I know what you must think of me.”
“And what do you think I think of you, Your Highness?” I arch a brow.
Viridian trains his stare ahead. “That I’m some pig-headed, cruel, arrogant male. You said so yourself. And I’m sure the list goes on.”
It’s my turn to look away now.
“As much as I want to assure you that I am none of those things, I know words alone will not be enough.”
“Then how do you plan to woo me?” I ask. My voice is lighter than it has been for days—laced with an almost humorous quality.
Viridian’s mouth perks up. “Only with the grandest of romantic gestures, of course.”
I can’t help but grin. “I’d expect nothing less from the Crown Prince. ”
His expression loses some of its light. It makes me feel as if I’ve said something wrong.
“What is it?” I ask. I shouldn’t care about offending him. After all, I’ve already said worse things to him without so much of a second thought.
“Nothing.” He flashes me a polite smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“I know that’s not true.” My voice gets harder now. “Have I offended you?”
“No,” he says quickly, straightening his posture. “My feelings aren’t so easily hurt, I assure you.”
“Fine.” If he doesn’t want to tell me, then so be it.
We walk in silence for a moment. It hangs heavy between us.
Then, Viridian exhales. “It’s—well, everyone seems to expect so much of me. As they should, I am the Crown Prince, after all.”
I lift my gaze and can’t help but look at him while he speaks. His expression is genuine, as if he’s beginning to lower his mask.
“But they only see me as the heir to the throne. No one, not even my father, sees me as simply Viridian.” He slows, and it even affects his stride. “My mother, she was the only one who saw me like that. Just Viridian.”
“What happened to her?” I ask. I know that the High Queen died some time ago, but I don’t know the cause .
“I was very young. I was going to have a sibling, so I’m told. She—” he swallows. Pain gathers in his expression, tightening his features. “She didn’t survive. Neither did the child.”
I press my lips together, unsure of what to say.
“I understand that feeling,” I tell him at last. “When my sister, Acantha, was born, I lost my mother. One life for another, I suppose.”
Viridian turns to me, his stare bearing into mine. His eyes widen slightly, like he didn’t expect me to share in his grief. Like no one had ever looked past his bloodline, his position, and seen him for who he is.
“I’m sure you love your sister very much.”
“I do.” I offer a small smile. “I miss her dearly.”
Viridian goes quiet again.
I turn my face away and look to the castle grounds instead. There are more flower beds and clusters of thick rose bushes out here than there are in the courtyard. At the edge, farther off in the distance, a line of dense forest envelops High Keep.
Viridian’s stone-faced demeanor returns. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that there’s to be a ball hosted in our honor.”
“Is there?” My stomach already pools with dread.
“Yes. To celebrate our engagement.”
“Ah. I see.”
“You don’t seem enthused. ”
“I’m not one for dancing. Nor lacy gowns.” Loren was the only thing that made the festivals in Slyfell of any enjoyment. He’d grab my hand with that boyish grin on his face and pull me all the way to the town square with a tankard of ale in his other hand.
But Loren won’t be with me at the ball.
No, he’ll be locked away in that cell, trapped in the dark behind unforgiving steel bars. And I’ll be in a room full of noble fae who think I’m beneath them.
How exciting, I think dryly.
“If it’s any consolation,” Viridian says, silencing my thoughts, “I won’t be enjoying myself either. I’ll only attend to maintain appearances.”
“Appearances,” I mutter. “To hell with appearances.”
“I know you don’t want this,” he says. “You’ve made that quite clear. It’s not my choice, either.”
“Oh, really?” I taunt, recalling what the guards told me the day they arrived at our door to take me away. “Supposedly I was hand-picked to be your bride. Hand-picked by you. ”
There’s more venom in my voice than I intended. Viridian flinches.
“The gods are to blame for our arrangement.” His icy tone matches mine. “Not me.”
“You’re the Crown Prince. No one can force you to do anything.”
“Is that so?” That sets his eyes ablaze. “Let me tell you something, Little Fawn. Even I bow to the High King. You’d do well to remember that.”
I glower at him, silently fuming. He’s the only male in the realm who can get under my skin this way. This quickly.
“For someone who supposedly doesn’t want me to hate him,” I say, refusing to let him have the last word, “you’re doing a poor job of changing that.”
Viridian’s voice goes cold and quiet. “There will be a tutor to instruct you. It seems that you have much to learn about conducting yourself like a lady. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He brushes past me, and stalks back toward the castle, shoulders wound tight.
My feet seem fixed to the ground. I shake my head with frustration, balling my hands into fists.
“Argh!” I groan.
Guilt lines my stomach. I let my temper get the better of me.
And for the first time since I arrived, I feel like I ruined something.
So be it.
Viridian and I will never marry. So why do I care if I’ve ruined things between us?
I have my first lesson with the tutor this afternoon. I pass Viridian on the way to the ballroom, but he pretends not to see me .
Coward.
I tell myself that it’s better this way. Better to be truthful with him, than let him believe there may be a future for us.
But that thought doesn’t sit right with me.
I keep mulling over how he looked at me earlier. How he flinched when I lashed out at him.
And it makes me wonder if anyone has ever treated him right.
If anyone has shown him love. Genuine, unconditional love.
What am I saying?
What do I care if Viridian’s been given love or affection? Since when did I care about him at all?
I don’t.
I don’t care about him. I hate him.
When I arrive, the tutor is already there, waiting. She’s fae, that’s for sure. Her pointed ears emerge through silky black hair that’s wound into a tight bun at the base of her head, hunter-green eyes studying me the moment I cross the threshold. Her dark, violet dress is fitted to her too slim figure, and the high neckline makes her seem taller than she already is. She holds her hands in front of her, calm and collected. The way a lady should be.
Not brash and unruly like me.
“Good afternoon, Miss Thurdred.” The tutor’s voice is lower than I expect. Rigid, with a dry quality to it. She must be older than she appears. “I am Nefine Hrudarrk. I have heard that you are quite the force to be reckoned with.”
I scowl at the female. “I assume you’re here to break my spirit.”
But my remark doesn’t rouse her. “No,” Nefine says simply. “I am here to teach you proper etiquette. You will need to be headstrong if you are to demand respect from the noble fae that will one day bow at your feet.”
My body goes still at her words.
It hadn’t occurred to me that I could become High Queen.
If I did marry Viridian, someday I would.
If being the operative word.
Do I even want to be High Queen? If I do, maybe I could bridge the gap between humans and fae. I could show the realm that we are strong. That we may be mortal, but we are a worthy equal.
“Well,” Nefine says, demanding my attention, “since your engagement ball is quickly approaching, we shall begin with ballroom dancing.”
I groan. As if I need to be reminded.
“There will be none of that here,” she scolds. “Appearances are key to one’s reputation. And at court, your reputation is your sharpest sword. Now,” she directs, raising the crown of her head, “stand tall, with your shoulders back.”
I do.
“Very good,” Nefine muses, taking on a strict, but motherly tone. She steps toward me, holding up her hands. “I shall be your dance partner for today.”
She doesn’t give me a chance to respond before continuing her instruction. “Take my hand. You will follow your partner’s lead—my lead, for our purposes.”
I take her outstretched hand, and she puts her free hand on my waist, keeping a substantial amount of space between us.
She starts to dance, taking small steps back and then to the sides. I do my best to follow, and my movements are stiff.
“Relax,” Nefine urges. “Release the tension in your body. Let the music flow through you.”
I sigh. Closing my eyes, I take a breath and try to do what she says.
“Better,” Nefine says approvingly.
“Who will come to the ball?” I ask while we dance.
“The Heads of Houses, their consorts, and the heir-apparents,” Nefine answers. “Fae who hold positions at any of the five Courts will also attend with their Head of House.”
Nerves gather in my stomach.
Crowds never bothered me before. When Loren and I would go to festivals in Slyfell with food, music, and dancing, we’d always be just one in a sea of many. They’re always full of people standing wherever they can find room in the square. I’ve only ever been but one face in a crowd.
Never the one standing before them.
“Your entrance will be announced,” Nefine explains. “Then you will proceed into the ballroom. You will be expected to dance with the Crown Prince, and when your dance ends, the two of you will greet the High King. Once you have done so, you will mingle with the crowd at the Crown Prince’s side.”
I nod. Though, I don’t plan to be at Viridian’s side the entire night. As if I would ever willingly do that.
I stumble.
Nefine hisses. “Do not anticipate. Respond to your partner’s movements instead.”
I grumble an apology.
“Again,” she commands. “From the top.”
We start over. This time, my movements are less stiff, and I wait for her to move before I step. Nefine gives me a satisfactory nod.
“Will the High King dance?” I ask.
“No. His Majesty is not one for social events, I am afraid,” Nefine tells me. Her mouth stretches thin, brows stitching together. “He has not been since—” she clears her throat “—for a very long time.”
“Why?” I lean forward. Something in her voice tells me that there’s more to the story than she wants me to believe.
Nefine adjusts her posture. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with. Let us go again, shall we?”
We practice the dance routine again, but I can’t stop thinking about what she told me.
What happened that made High King Vorr wary of social events ?
And what does it have to do with the secrets hidden within the East Tower?
“You must carry yourself as a lady does,” Nefine chides me, demanding my full attention. “Chin up, back straight. You must glide across the floor as if you were balancing a tome on your head.”
I nod, taking a breath.
We continue to practice until my feet whine in protest.
Nefine must notice, because she releases me and steps back. “That is enough for tonight. We shall meet daily until the ball.”
I hold back a groan. How am I supposed to piece together the mystery of High Keep if I’m to attend these lessons every evening?
“Do not give me that look.” Nefine straightens her shoulders. “Time is of the essence, my dear. You must be ready for your first appearance as the Crown Prince’s betrothed.”
I wrap my arms around myself, pretending to listen.
“He has not been since—for a very long time.”
There’s something Nefine isn’t telling me. Even Lymseia dodged my questions when I first arrived.
There’s something no one will talk about.
Something the High King doesn’t want to be discussed.
If I’m going to stay here, I need answers. I need to unravel the truth.
And I know exactly where to start.
The East Tower.