20. TWENTY
TWENTY
Mina
Darius and I are pulled apart and passed from group to group like a prized piece of pottery. I search him out every few minutes, our eyes meeting from across the manicured lawn. My cheeks are starting to ache from the fake smile I plaster on.
Inside I’m seething. A little distance cleared my head, and now I desire nothing more than a moment alone with my husband. Not to continue what he started on the dais, but to scold him for it.
My body is still flushed from his tease of a kiss. If he hadn’t been holding me so tightly against him, I might have swooned.
Inexcusable for a warrior.
Clearly we are attracted to one another, but as I explained to him last week, I have every intention to keep our marriage politically focused.
He said a kiss to seal our vows, not kisses.
His second one was an overstep. A fact I will firmly inform him of as soon as the crowd allows us a moment alone.
Faces bleed together, but I try to remember the important players. Not everyone’s families made the trip in time. Natalie's and Victoria’s fathers are both busy running their respective cities, but we will meet them on the tour.
Mamon, Kailani’s father, smiles at me while she scolds her youngest sister’s loose tongue. I welcome the unruly banter despite the ache our conversation brings. I share a few stories of my family, and for a moment, it’s nice to pretend they really are waiting back home for me, safe and sound.
A bittersweet dream.
“Your mother is much wiser than our king was. Joining Veloria is the best thing that has happened to our islands in forty years,” Mamon adds.
I smile through the flash of rage coursing through me. My mother would never entertain an alliance, but neither did his king. I nearly forgot that the kind, charming man before me is no different from Zala.
A betrayer.
“Definitely better than that lush and his roaming hands,” one of Kailani’s sisters says with a small shudder.
“Your former king was that bad?” I ask. The shared wince among the girls piques my curiosity.
Mamon pats his daughter’s wild curls fondly. “His power and influence were impossible to oppose. He was violent and cruel, caring only for drink and women. Our economy was struggling until Emperor Gilchrist offered a way out.”
Kailani leans closer, out of earshot of the youngest. “Consent was not a concept he practiced.”
Disgust runs through me like a cold breeze. Partly at myself.
I was wrong.
Mamon is the furthest thing from a coward. He protected his people, his daughters, from a different kind of monster. I have a lot to learn before judging another’s actions. After all, I offered the same deal for much more selfish reasons.
I squeeze Kailani’s hand. “I’m glad such a person is no longer in power.”
Mamon raises his drink. “Everyone is. I had my reservations at first, but siding with Veloria was the right choice. The emperor was kind enough to let us hold on to our traditions and elect an ambassador. He’s more interested in trade than conquering.”
When Darius made a similar offer for Kalisham, I honestly thought it might be a ruse on some level. That he would try to kill me and fully take over after we won. It’s comforting to know he upheld his bargain with another nation.
Lord Pascal hovers to our left. Kailani notices and begins to shepherd her family off toward the refreshment table.
“It was lovely to meet you, Queen Mina. Please, take care of my girl,” Mamon says.
“Of course.”
He joins his daughters, laughing as he puts his arm around Kailani’s shoulder.
I can feel the phantom embrace of my own father. The memory takes a blade to my chest. My lungs seize, and I have to force myself to breathe.
“It’s a shame your family couldn’t make it,” Lord Pascal says. His smile is cruel as he bows.
I fear my drink might crack under my grip. I finish the contents in one swig and hand it off to a nearby attendant.
“I wish they could be here, but we will celebrate with my people in time. Who is this?” I smile toward the tall man beside him.
“My husband, Lord Paul.”
He bows, clinging to his husband’s arm for balance, cheeks flushed. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
I can smell the alcohol on his breath from here. To be fair, if I were married to such a snake, I’d need a large amount of alcohol to stomach his presence too.
“You as well.” I turn to Lord Pascal with a sweet smile. “I am so relieved you made it. I was worried you might get the date confused, given your penchant for mixing up schedules.”
He covers his hateful glare with a hearty laugh. “Do forgive my rare mistake. I assure you, this wedding is far more important than a duty roster. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
Lord Paul’s gaze follows a passing tray of drinks. I nod to the attendant. “Please enjoy the rest of your night.”
Lord Pascal bristles at my dismissal, but his husband pulls him away.
He’s not the last of Darius’s council to make his distaste known. The rest greet me in turn. They smile with the rest of the crowd, offering backhanded comments about my home and the absence of any representatives.
I ignore their pettiness, but never let my guard down.
Darius catches my eye across the gardens, but a group of men in an animated discussion intercept him. I wave him off with a nod.
A few women gush about my dress as I meander back toward the palace. Guards try to follow me inside, but I dismiss them. They hesitate, debating whose orders to follow.
“I can assure you the emperor is in far more danger out here than I am in the washroom.”
They glance around for Darius, but he’s still on the other side of the gardens. After a long silence, they relent, and I manage to gain a precious moment to myself.
Once inside, I lock the door and sink down on the cool stone, letting it ease the flush of the summer night. My soul is as exhausted as my cheek muscles. I massage my jaw and relish the quiet with closed eyes.
A loud thud echoes from the hallway, and I curse under my breath. The door rattles once, followed by a soft scuffle of footsteps. I bite back a groan and straighten my dress.
I open the door and step into the hallway, prepared to provide more smiles and small talk, but no one is around. I look down each hall, but not even a guard stands watch. Odd.
The sensation of being watched brushes down my spine.
Where are you…
I assess all the places one might hide in the wide-open hall. Artwork and a few statues are my only company and don’t provide many secure places to hide.
I stroll toward the ball, forcing my body to remain relaxed. My loose dress skirt allows for a fight if it comes to it, and even without a dagger, I won’t be taken down so easily. Especially not in a country that prides itself on underestimating a woman’s abilities.
As I reach the juncture to turn back to the gardens, a seam catches my eye. Much like the one I found the day I ended up outside the castle in search of food. Once I am within arm’s reach, I lash out, pulling open the staff passage.
A pair of violet eyes gleam up at me. The boy attached to them opens and closes his mouth in shock before turning to run.
I may not have found someone so young suspicious before Fareena’s coronation, but now I take any age as a threat. Before he makes it two steps, I have a death grip on his arm.
He spins, maneuvering perfectly to break my grasp. He pushes me up against the wall with more muscle and force than I expect for someone his size, while his free hand shuts the door to the hallway.
I fight back, flipping our positions. Clearly, he underestimates me as well. I open my mouth to question the boy, when he hisses at me like a feral cat.
“Quiet.”
Something in his tone gives me pause. I keep his arm pinned behind his back, chest pressed to the wall. A few breaths later, voices sound in the hallway. A group of men laugh, and as soon as the voices fade down the next corridor, the struggle resumes.
Neither of us strikes to harm, only to maneuver the other in the dim space. I want information more than his death.
“Where did you learn to fight like this?” he asks, locking out my arm at a painful angle.
I slide my foot back to knock him off balance and break his grip. Sweat beads my forehead. I am woefully out of practice, despite finding a few nights to train. My muscles burn at the sudden use.
“I should be asking you that. How old are you, twelve?”
“I’m sixteen and a half,” he growls. “I thought Darius said you were smart.”
The use of the emperor’s name so casually gives me pause, providing an opening for the boy to sweep my feet out from under me. My back lands painfully against the stone floor, sending up a plume of dust. I choke on the stale air as he straddles me.
He looks light as a feather but holds me down with as much strength as any bulky soldier.
“You’re one of Darius’s shadows?” I heave out, catching my breath.
His grip eases a fraction. “I’m no one’s anything. I help Darius out when I feel like it.”
Interesting. What is their relationship? For him to call Darius so casually by his name, they must be close.
“What is your name?”
“Doesn’t matter. Just pretend you never saw me. For both our sakes.”
He stands, pulling me up with him. I don’t have to see my dress to know that the delicate fabric is ripped and stained with dust.
“How the hell did you know I was even here?” he asks, annoyance and arrogance dripping from each word.
He reminds me of Darius a little, and I can’t stop the laugh that bubbles to the surface. “You made quite a noise before I came into the hall.”
“No, that was the buffoon who tried to get into the washroom with you. He found his way down the hall with some help.”
No one was in the hallway, even down the opposite corridor. This child is good. “So, he’s unconscious somewhere? Thank you.”
“Hazard of overindulging in booze. Now answer my question.” His irritation dims a bit.