Chapter Twelve
Analleia
I ventured down to the lobby to fill out the forms for the second ball, the skills ball as some called it—my favorite ball from the last time I attended.
I had been too young to participate, but I had cheered for my sister Tatanna as she won the knife-throwing contest and rooted for my brother Josef when he competed in the horse race.
The skills ball was designed to be fun, but it was also a time for other kingdoms to see what you had to offer and a chance for the bigger kingdoms to prove their strength.
To prove they had the best weapons, or the most formidable military.
The fastest breed of horses to race, the most skilled swordsmen.
Eligible bachelors and maidens watched the competitions to scope out the best choice for marriage based off the skills the participants displayed, which often reflected the larger alliances their country could offer in the partnership as well.
I read over the entry forms carefully, filling out one for the archery competition. Many of the other competitions looked fun, but they offered me no advantage and wouldn’t aid in our mission. My fingers stilled over the music competitions, my soul gazing longingly at the categories.
Pianoforte.
Once my greatest source of comfort, the mention of the instrument pulled at me like waves to the shore.
As a child, I had spent hours with my fingers dancing over the keys, playing my favorite pieces from memory, becoming lost in the music.
My teacher had said I possessed a rare natural talent. A prodigy, he had predicted.
I hadn’t touched a pianoforte since the destruction of our kingdom. Since I had lost my family. The Dark Walkers tower had no need nor place for such things. They trained us in the art of killing. There was no time to explore the art of music. The sing of a blade was all I would ever hear again.
Desmond was asleep when I returned to our suite. Nadiyah lounged on the sofa, conditioning the dry leather of her black boots.
She didn’t look up as she asked, “Archery?”
“It’s the only useful thing to compete in,” I said. “I needed to participate in at least one competition but be able to move about the ball freely.”
“Desmond says he’s not participating,” she mused. “I’m debating on whether or not to enter the knife-throwing contest. Wouldn’t want to cheat one of Their Highnesses from a pretty ribbon or trophy.”
I smiled. Nadiyah held the title of deadliest shot in the tower, but she’d been throwing knives long before she began her training there.
Multiple sets of footsteps came from the hallway, sounding as if an entire army were tramping up the stairs.
“Sounds like His Royal Highness doesn’t take no for an answer.” Nadiyah grew suspicious as she concealed several knives beneath her skirt and kicked her boots and conditioner to the side.
The dreaded knock came at the door, but it was lighter this time—friendlier. A drastic difference from the maniacal pounding on the door at sunrise.
I nodded toward Desmond’s room, and Nadiyah moved silently to slip in and wake him. The floor creaked as I crossed it, and I took my dagger in my hand, concealing it behind me as I looked through the peep hole and saw nothing but green. With a frown, I opened it.
A massive vase of flowers pushed into me, and I stepped back as a servant carried it into the room.
“Sir—” I cut off.
He ignored me and another servant followed him in with a second vase.
Then another and another until twelve assortments of flowers ranging from roses to moon flowers to massive multicolored plants in gray pots crowded the room.
My jaw slackened, and I found myself at a loss for words at the foliage’s sudden presence.
The smell of them overwhelmed me in the most wonderful way.
I had never seen so many pretty plants in my life.
“I hope we brought enough.” The cheery voice held a slight lilt to its tone.
Prince Valeris sauntered into the room as the servants exited. The sight of him evaporated all the joy the flowers had brought me.
“We probably could have fit a few more, but this will do for now. Another set can always be brought up later.”
My eyebrows shot up at the suggestion. Any more and we would have to turn the suite into a maze. We barely had room for what they had just deposited.
I turned to the prince and plastered on a hospitable expression. “Could I help you, Your Highness?”
He smiled, taking me in. “I would settle for a thank you.”
His cocky attitude grated against my control, my eye twitching at having to restrain my facial features. Why was he here?
“I’m afraid you must have me mistaken with someone else and have the wrong room, Your Highness. Valeris, was it?” I asked, purposely mispronouncing his name.
“I beg your pardon, ma’am, but it’s pronounced Prince Vuh-laire-iss.”
My gaze flicked to the man waiting outside the door. He held a note pad in his ink-stained hands and a pair of spectacles sat low on his nose.
I suppressed my eye roll. “My apologies, Prince Valeris.”
“Oh no, this is the right room.” He peeked at the number on the door. “Analleia Kallistar, wasn’t it? You interrupted my conversation with Lord Eyreling last night.”
Subtle.
My hand tightened around the dagger concealed behind my back.
“Oh yes.” I pasted on a sickly sweet smile. “I do recall. If I remember correctly you were lying to him about a trade you had made with the quarries in the north.”
Irritation sparked in his green eyes as a muscle feathered in his jaw. I waited for him to explode, but he remained calm as ever, never removing that stupid, stiff smile from his face.
“It’s all a matter of perspective. I would interpret it more as a fortune telling of the future than a lie, but to each his own.”
I lifted my chin. “A matter of perspective, I suppose.”
Valeris circled the room, eyeing the bedroom doors. “Are you attending the balls by yourself?”
My hesitation lasted half a second. “My friends are wasted from the festivities last night, and my attendants are out gathering supplies for the ball tomorrow evening. I’m sure they will return soon.”
“No family attending with you?”
I shook my head.
“What kingdom was it that you were from again?”
“Allowyn,” The lie rolled off my tongue easily. I had almost said Donnovar out of habit, but I didn’t know the limits of the Enchantress’s magic. All she had said was I could go by my real name.
Valeris’s gaze swept over the half-conditioned boots on the floor then roved over everything else. He did it casually so as not to draw attention, but with my trained eyes, I knew the tricks. He was looking for something.
“I hoped these flowers might grant me your forgiveness after the most unfortunate disturbance you received this morning.” He looked at me. “A simple misunderstanding that should have never happened, and trust me, it won’t happen again.”
Trusting him was the last thing I intended to do.
“I also hoped”—he took a step toward me, and the hair on the back of my neck rose. What was he playing at?—“that you might forgive me for my behavior last night.”
He smiled, the question hanging between us.
His behavior last night? He hadn’t exactly been rude—but nor had he been welcoming. There was no reason for a royal like him to apologize even if he had done something.
I stared at him, recognizing the expectation deep within his eyes.
He wants something.
“It was extremely rude,” I said. “And I was so accosted this morning I’m afraid I have not yet recovered from it. I do not appreciate being so horribly spoken to and dealt with.”
“Once again I am so very sorry.”
Was he patronizing me?
“I suppose one could not hold a grudge against His Royal Highness.” I threw it right back at him—but I still didn’t know what he wanted.
“Wonderful.” He dipped his head at me. “Seeing as you don’t have any family here and your friends are given to drinking, perhaps we could spark an alliance between us, become friends, as it were, for the remainder of the balls?”
He extended his hand.
To shake on it and seal the deal.
I stared at it, the pieces in my head finally connecting his odd behavior.
He meant more than friendship.
He meant to control me, to keep an eye on me, to keep me in his back pocket. He was trying to force me into an agreement to not work against him. He felt threatened by what I had done at the first ball last night. A spark of triumph flared within me.
I smiled the sweetest smile I could, not taking his hand.
“That is a most”—I punctuated each word—“generous offer, Your Highness, deeply appreciated.” My dramatics were almost too much for me.
“But I’m afraid that is not what I came to the Paravellian Balls for.
I am perfectly happy with my friends and prefer to work alone.
All is forgiven, but I think my friendship would end up dragging you down in the end. ”
I strode over to the door, opening it wider for him to leave.
He stood frozen, wearing a stunned expression.
Slowly, his outstretched hand fell back to his side, and suspicion lined his face as he maneuvered past me. He paused in the doorway, one hand bracing on the side of it.
“I appreciate your offer of forgiveness, Analleia,” he said, studying me. “It is the most one could hope to gain after such an attack on your integrity.”
“It is, isn’t it?” I batted my eyelashes at him. “Good day, Your Highness.”
He stepped into the hall and I shut the door, locking it. Desmond and Nadiyah emerged from his room, eyebrows raising at the garden that had overtaken our suite.
“He tried to have you thrown out, Analleia,” Desmond said. “Are you sure rejecting him was a wise decision?”
I shrugged. “Probably not, but it made me feel good.”