Chapter 8
If I felt out of place at Lord Markell’s party, this is so much worse.
Bellgaard barely acknowledged me when he let Hex and me into his house—nothing new there—but everyone else in attendance seems determined to stare me down.
Every scoff and sneer has told me exactly what the Candoran nobility thinks of me, and it was a mistake for me to think I might actually be invited into the inner circle.
If not for Hex holding tight to my arm, I probably would have spent the last half an hour standing on the edge of Bellgaard’s impressive home gallery, blending into the shadows.
Hex has been fine, of course. The man can hold a conversation with anyone, and I doubt he’s ever felt like he doesn’t fit in. Royalty and Palace Guard, he straddles both worlds with ease.
I always thought that was a good thing, until two nights ago when he made me wonder if he’s more sympathetic to the anti-royalist cause than I thought. I haven’t seen any signs of wavering loyalty to his sister tonight, but the dinner party has barely started. The night is still young.
“It’s quite the travesty, isn’t it?” Lord Draycott, a minor viscount who hasn’t shown up in our investigation yet, has been droning on about an equestrian festival the House of Lords used to put on every year.
Freya cancelled it this year, deciding the money would be better spent elsewhere, and it’s clearly a sore subject.
Motive to want to see the monarchy dismantled? Unlikely.
“Is it?” Hex says, and he looks like he’s trying very hard not to roll his eyes.
“I should say so!” Draycott says vehemently, puffing out his chest. “Candora has long held horses in the highest standing, and even now some parts of the country still rely on equestrian transportation over horrible modern contraptions.”
I don’t know how much longer I can endure this conversation, but I need a good reason to leave without drawing too much attention to myself.
Scanning the gallery, I take in all of the guests admiring the artwork as they wait for dinner to be announced.
For the most part, it looks like Bellgaard invited fellow art lovers, but here and there some people are more interested in conversation than in the paintings and statues around them.
Three people in particular catch my eye, huddled together in one corner and conversing with glares and scowls.
I don’t know two of them, but I recognize Lord Fennor, who has been on our watch list because he often hosts weekend retreats at his country estate and has money and influence in great supply.
He looks the least happy of the trio, but it’s the other two doing most of the talking.
If I can get closer, I might be able to catch some of the conversation. Unfortunately, moving toward the trio will mean standing close to Alaric Blackmere as well. He was talking to Lord Vardane earlier, but now he’s on his own and looking deep in thought as he studies an abstract painting.
I curse under my breath, knowing I’ll have to take this chance even if I’d rather talk to anyone else.
“Storme?” Hex mutters, nudging me with his elbow. When I look up at him, his gaze is on Blackmere and growing stormier by the second. “Something wrong?”
“Give me a moment.” I slip free of his hold, quickly making a plan as I cross the gallery to stand at Blackmere’s side, as close to Fennor’s conversation as I can get while still standing in proximity to Blackmere.
I can feel the prince’s eyes searing into my back, but I do my best to ignore him as I look up at the painting Blackmere is admiring and strain my ears to hear the conversation on my left.
So far, all I’m getting is a hum of low voices, so I inch a little closer.
“I didn’t take you for an art enthusiast,” Blackmere says, almost startling me.
Swallowing my frustration, I turn my head just enough to meet his gaze and smirk. “I’m not.”
“And yet you bid upwards of twenty thousand euros for a questionably artistic rendering of Candora.” One dark eyebrow lifts as he studies me. “I didn’t think a bodyguard’s salary lent itself to frivolous purchases like that.”
“You forget I was bodyguard to the queen,” I counter, though I can’t say my paycheck was anything exorbitant. It was more than I’m making at the RIA, but that isn’t saying much.
Blackmere hums, studying me for a long moment before his gaze shifts to the prince across the room. “Were you trying to impress His Royal Highness?” he asks, his tone full of icy derision.
I can’t hold back a snort of laughter, which unfortunately catches the attention of Fennor and his two companions.
Their conversation instantly stops, and the three of them disperse without another word.
Vitte. At least now I can say I’m doing what Virek wants me to do; it’s a miracle he let me go as long as he did without reminding me that I’m supposed to talk to Blackmere.
“Impress Prince Hendrik?” I ask, turning to face Blackmere fully. “I’m not sure anything impresses him, but no. I had my own reasons for taking an interest in that painting.”
Folding his arms, Blackmere leans closer. Not by much, but enough that I notice. “Care to enlighten me?” It’s going to kill me if he ends up being a part of this when I was so sure he was innocent. At least where the anti-royalists are concerned.
I lift one corner of my lips in a secretive smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“And what if I would?”
It’s hard to believe a future duke would be remotely interested in someone like me, and the intensity of his gray gaze sends a shiver through me. Either I have more flirtation skills than I realized, or Blackmere might actually be my ticket to the anti-royalist scheme.
“Storme,” a familiar voice says behind me.
As Blackmere rolls his eyes, I grit my teeth and turn to narrow my eyes at Hex. “Yes, Prince?”
“Why is it you seem to be everywhere, Alverra?” Blackmere mutters under his breath.
Hex’s returning smile is cold enough that I shiver again. “I could ask you the same thing.”
For the first time since we arrived, Virek’s voice sounds in my ear. “You are out of line, Your Highness.”
For once, I agree with Virek. I was just starting to get somewhere!
“Did you need something?” I ask Hex. Thankfully, I manage to keep most of my irritation out of my tone before Blackmere starts thinking I have any negative feelings toward the prince; at this point, we need to be seen as a united front.
But I highly doubt Blackmere is going to say anything useful now that Hex is here.
Smirking, Hex snakes an arm around my waist and pulls me close, fixing his bright blue eyes on me. “You left me with Draycott,” he almost whines. “All he can talk about is prestige and horses.” His nose brushes the skin of my neck, and my whole body responds to that bare touch.
“I’d think the two of you would get along well,” Blackmere says in a growl.
Hex chuckles and lifts his head, giving me a reprieve from his nearness. “I’ve never cared much for either.”
“Is that so?” Blackmere huffs a humorless laugh. “That doesn’t change the fact that you were raised in a palace.”
“There’s more to me than a prince, though I don’t expect you to be bothered to know that.”
“Why should I bother?”
We can work with this. Blackmere still isn’t enthused by Hex’s interruption, but a few people around us have tuned in to the conversation, including Lord Vardane and Lord Fennor, both of whom are looking at the prince with curious interest.
“Walk away, Prince Hendrik,” Virek says in our earbuds, and I want to strangle my boss for thinking he has a clue what’s going on. “You’re not to interfere with Storme’s investigation.”
The muscle in Hex’s jaw strains, but his attention doesn’t stray from Blackmere. “I don’t care what you think of me, Blackmere.”
“Storme,” Virek continues, louder now, “if you don’t take control of the conversation, then—”
The sound fizzles out.
“Oooh,” a different voice says, drawing out the word. Callum. “We seem to be having technical difficulties over here. Sorry about that. I’ll work on fixing that connection to Virek right away.” I can hear Virek shouting in the background, but Callum sounds unbothered.
Hex’s lips twitch, making it incredibly difficult to hold back a laugh that bubbles up in my chest. It could have easily been a technical glitch that cut off Virek’s sound, but my money’s on Callum intentionally messing with the connection. I might as well use this moment of freedom while I can.
Without pulling away from the prince’s hold, I smile at Blackmere. “Prince Hendrik is right,” I tell him. “Surprisingly, there’s more to him than a pretty exterior.”
“You think I’m pretty?” Hex’s question is so full of surprise that it sounds real, and his skin has flushed crimson when I look at him.
There’s something glimmering in his expression that almost looks like hope, but there’s no reason he would ever look at me like that.
He coughs, recovering quickly, and gives me a smug grin. “It took you long enough to notice.”
Blackmere groans. “Another good one lost to the allure of royalty,” he grumbles, and I wonder if I was supposed to hear him. That’s not exactly the sentiment of someone loyal to the monarchy. Virek’s going to enjoy that one.
Regardless, I have a response, one I say loud enough for those around us to hear too. “Don’t forget there’s a reason I left the queen’s employ, Lord Blackmere. But Hex is different.”
Hex tightens his hold on me at the same time Lord Bellgaard’s butler announces dinner is ready, and our conversation comes to an end. But that doesn’t mean our audience has lost interest, and I still feel several pairs of eyes on me as Hex silently leads me into the dining hall.