NOAH
THERE WAS AN excited energy in the halls tonight, as the downstairs prepared for one of the biggest nights of their lives.
It was ironic, really, the anticipation they all felt, considering most of them wouldn’t witness what their hours of preparation resulted in. But some of us, myself included, were about to witness history.
The King of Valoria’s first official meeting with his betrothed—the Prince of Solterra.
I should’ve been thrilled for His Majesty.
This was a momentous night, a joyous occasion for both kingdoms that had been forged months ago.
But as I climbed the stairs to take my position inside the grand ballroom, all I felt was a sense of dread, a knot in the pit of my stomach that I couldn’t seem to shake.
It’d been there since last night and my final disastrous words with Nicholas.
And yes, last night that was whom I’d been with: Nicholas, not the king. That was whom I’d danced and laughed with. Now here I was tonight, about to watch him do the same thing with the man he was about to spend the rest of his life with.
It made me want to tell Baxter I was unwell and go lock myself in my room all night. But I was stronger than that. I’d been hired to do a job, and having feelings for Nic—the king was not part of it.
So instead, I moved into my position by the ballroom doors, where I would announce each guest before disappearing into the walls like I wasn’t even there.
That was the way of it, always had been and always would be for someone of my station. The idea that that would ever change, just because the king looked at me like he cared, was one I could never again allow myself to entertain.
For him, a dance here or a kiss there would be nothing more than a minor scandal. For me, it would be disastrous.
“I trust you are prepared for tonight, Mr. Bennett.” Baxter’s voice was enough to jolt me out of my thoughts, and I turned to see him moving up beside me in his pristine black tails, white waistcoat, and bow tie.
“Yes, sir. All names have been memorized, as has the order in which they will be received.”
“Very good. This is your first real royal function. Eyes will be on you.”
In other words, don’t mess it up or I’ll have your head.
Not literally, of course—beheadings had stopped long ago. But I’d get a dressing-down on such a level that I’d likely wish my head were no longer attached to my body.
“Of course, sir. I’m ready.”
He moved to the other side of the doors opposite me, and not a minute later the front door was opened and the first guests arrived.
One by one, politicians, dignitaries, royals, and friends of the family were announced. Men dressed in designer tuxedos, both classic and modern, and women draped in satin and silk, wearing jewels worth more than most people’s homes, began to fill the grand ballroom.
The chandelier sparkled above them all as they moved around the room greeting one another, the champagne appearing in front of them on trays, and when their first glass was finished, another magically took its place.
Nothing but the best for a royal engagement.
I’d just finished announcing the lord chancellor and his wife when the front doors opened for what would be the final guest tonight. Baxter eyed me, and I straightened my shoulders, knowing exactly who was about to step through those doors.
The Prince of Solterra. Or should I say, his party.
It was no wonder the downstairs had been buzzing about the prince’s arrival, because while everyone else merely stepped inside Montclair Palace with their escort for the evening, Prince de la Vega was preceded by a flourish of trumpets so loud it stopped all chatter inside the ballroom, and everyone gathered inside turned toward the doors.
As silence fell, the trumpeters stepped aside and a young man in black tails and a maroon satin sash stepped forward and, with a sweeping hand, gestured to the man who followed.
Prince Alejandro de la Vega.
He walked between his small entourage like he took them everywhere with him, then reached the young man at the front, who handed over a pair of gloves, which the prince slipped on, and a ceremonial sword.
The prince sheathed the enormous weapon like some swashbuckling pirate, then gave his aide a slight nod and continued through the main foyer to where I stood at the ballroom doors.
Oh my God. Talk about an entrance.
Handsome was too polite a word to describe the prince, with his tall leather boots and black pants that he’d paired with a loose white shirt and maroon vest with Solterra’s crest on the pocket.
He wore his black hair swept back from his face, and when he stopped beside me, I noticed the light shine off a diamond in his pierced ear.
He was the polar opposite of Nicholas. Some might even say fire to ice, because when he turned and caught me all but staring at him, he gave a knowing smirk and my cheeks instantly flushed.
I swallowed and lowered my eyes, then said—in a voice I hoped projected confidence and not shock over the man who was about to make any memory of me vanish from Nicholas’s mind—“His Royal Highness, Prince Alejandro Rafael de la Vega, Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Solterra.”
“DID YOU SEE the prince?” Violet said as I hurried into the kitchen with an empty tray in hand. This was the fifth—no, maybe sixth—time I’d run up and down the stairs for a refill of champagne glasses, and my thighs were burning.
“Yes, he was kind of hard to miss, since he walked right by me,” I said as I handed off the tray to one of the kitchen staff, who’d pour the bubbly and get it back to me in record time.
“That’s right.” She leaned up against one of the long counters that ran along the edge of the kitchen. “Is it true he arrived with trumpeters and a fire breather?”
I shook my head and barely managed not to roll my eyes. It was unreal how quickly the gossip around here changed every time the story was retold.
“No, it’s not,” I said with a little more bite than I’d meant. When her smile fell, guilt instantly washed over me. “There was no fire breather.”
She shot up straight, her eyes popping wide. “You’re kidding. He really brought his own trumpeters?”
“Sure did. Then whipped out his sword to show us all how big it was.”
Violet’s jaw fell to the floor. “He. Did. Not.”
“He did. The handle was adorned with emeralds and rubies.”
Her brow wrinkled, then the scandal in her eyes dissipated. “Oh, you mean a real sword.”
“Of course. What did you—”
Violet raised an eyebrow, and I ran over my words and snorted.
“You thought I meant he flashed all the guests?”
“Well, it’s not like he has the most sterling reputation.”
“I highly doubt the king would entertain the idea of marrying someone who would pull such a stunt.”
“Bet he would, if the sword was pierced with rubies and emeralds.”
I didn’t even want to think about that. I was already busy enough trying to keep my eyes off the royal couple every time I re-entered the ballroom.
But so far, no such luck. From the moment the prince had entered the room and the king soon after, they’d zeroed in on one another and hadn’t left each other’s side since.
It seemed all of those misgivings Nicholas had been harboring leading up to tonight’s celebration had vanished in the face of such a handsome future.
Not that I could blame him. The prince was incredibly magnetic.
Nicholas was probably thrilled to discover his betrothed wouldn’t be such a burden in his life after all.
Even if he did find the need to announce himself in such an ostentatious way.
“Correct me if I’m wrong.” Mrs. Hutcheon’s voice was like a bucket of cold water on Violet’s good time, making her back instantly straighten. “But the last time I checked, the king does not pay you to stand around and discuss his fiancé’s…person.”
Violet spun around and brushed her hands down her apron. “I wasn’t. I was discussing rubies and emeralds.”
“And I’m telling you that he doesn’t pay you to do so. The guestrooms”—Mrs. Hutcheon pointed down the hall—“need to be turned down for eight tonight. That ought to keep you busy.”
“Yes, Mrs. Hutcheon.” Violet turned back to me and rolled her eyes, then whispered, “Enjoy the upstairs tonight. I’d do anything to be a fly on the wall.”
And that was exactly how we appeared to the guests sipping their wine and eating their amuse-bouches. Probably less noticeable than that. A fly in Montclair Palace would be unheard of.
With my full tray in hand, I made my way up to the butler’s pantry and then re-entered the ballroom.
Immediately I searched out the one man I shouldn’t.
It wasn’t difficult to find him. Nicholas Valemont commanded every single space he stepped inside of, including a ballroom full of the most important people in the world.
So when a crowd gathered just off to the side of the dance floor, I knew exactly where he was.
I should’ve moved in the opposite direction, should’ve distracted myself by attending to every guest other than him, but just like last night, my feet didn’t follow my orders. Instead, I weaved my way through the room, careful not to run into anyone as I moved closer to Nicholas.
It was the closest we’d been all night, since Baxter had relieved me of my duties and helped the king get ready this evening.
I’d tried not to take offense at the slight, and reminded myself that Nicholas was merely doing what I’d asked.
But still, I couldn’t help but feel the sting at being replaced for such an important task.
A task that would’ve made seeing him for the first time tonight a lot less difficult than when the doors to the throne room had opened across the ballroom, and he and Gabriel stepped in. It’d been all I could do to keep my knees from buckling.
King Nicholas Laurent Valemont was devastatingly handsome. So much so, he made it difficult to look away.