Chapter 10 Protection Ceremony #2
A part of her wished she had savoured that moment more, embraced the freedom while she had the chance. She ripped her gaze away from the window. What was the point in longing for something already gone? She exhaled, pushing the desire aside.
Drumbeats reverberated through the air as they neared the ceremonial space.
A grand tiered seating arrangement came into view, encircling an ancient stone platform.
The highest tier held seats reserved for the royal family, while below, noble families filled the rows.
At the base, off to one side, guarded ropes sectioned off an area where commoners gathered, pressing as close as they dared.
A solitary black-barred carriage stood nearby, flanked by more guards.
Beyond the stage, a sprawling marketplace buzzed with energy. Far surpassing anything Luna had seen before, it overflowed with merchants and eager patrons. At its center, a massive fire burned, its flames licking the air as men, women, and children danced in rhythmic unison to the pounding drums.
Luna couldn’t look away. She’d known the crowd would be enormous—the entire Kingdom of Grythorn was attending—but knowing was one thing, seeing it with her own eyes was something else entirely.
The carriage came to a halt, and the door swung open. Luna’s father stepped out first, extending a hand to assist each lady’s exit. Luna donned her hat as she took her father’s hand and allowed him to guide her to the bottom. She started to move away, but he didn’t let go.
Instead, he leaned in, his voice low enough for only her to hear.
“By the way, it’s my opinion that both my girls are deserving of royal affection.
You are not only beautiful, Luna, but you have a bright light in you that anyone would be lucky to see shine.
If you desired the prince, he would be the lucky one.
Any man would.” With that, he kissed the top of her hand and released her.
She knew her father meant well, but she had no interest in the prince, and she was fairly certain he had none in her. The hat was merely a peace offering. Besides, even if he did, she would never stand in the way of Emily’s happily ever after.
Smiling warmly at her father, Luna said, “Thank you for your kind words.”
A gruff sound rumbled from his throat, as if he weren’t sure what else to do. He had said his piece, and lingering on it wasn’t in his nature.
Clyde emerged at Luna’s side as a group of servants guided them beyond the roped-off commoner area to their designated seats. As members of the noble court, they were given a superior view compared to the average attendee.
Luna stole a glance at Clyde, unsure if she was relieved to see him. He didn’t acknowledge her, his gaze fixed somewhere in the distance, scanning the surroundings with quiet focus. Not a word. Not one glance in her direction.
Maybe he had been avoiding her this morning . . .
She pressed her lips together, forcing down the sting of that thought, and fidgeted with her dress. She had wanted to see him—but not like this. She had wished for a moment alone with him, needing some reassurance that yesterday’s conversation hadn’t changed things between them.
He’s here now. That’s what matters.
It would, however, be easier to enjoy his presence if Emily would quit glaring at him. Luna nudged her sister with her elbow, and Emily’s face returned to a neutral mask.
Venita and Cecil were huddled together nearby and waved when they spotted Emily and Luna.
“You didn’t tell me you were going to be part of the royal convoy?” Venita said, gracefully making her way over; Cecil followed close behind her.
“We didn’t know until this morning,” Luna replied matter-of-factly, hoping they didn’t think she was receiving special privileges because of her so-called sickness.
Emily sat, looking bored as she spread out her dress around her. “It was nice not to rush off at the crack of dawn to try and avoid traffic.”
Cecil’s eyes hit the sky. “Avoiding traffic wasn’t even an option this time. A carriage lost a wheel right in front of us, and we spent half an hour roasting in the heat while they fixed it.”
“I was sweating so badly,” Venita added, fanning her hands for effect. “I kept double-checking my mirror to make sure I hadn’t turned into a puddle.”
“Oh, you poor things! I couldn’t imagine such a horror.” With a twinkle in her eye, Emily said, “Our journey was terribly dull in comparison. The prince made sure we were well taken care of—but I almost wish he hadn’t. I want a fun story to share too!”
“Screw stories.” Cecil snorted. “I’m lucky to be alive right now! I thought I was going to bake to death.”
“Sounds like you both are in need of refreshments,” Luna interjected, steering the conversation away before things escalated.
The ladies quickly agreed and began weaving through the market, where merchants shouted over the steady drumbeats and hum of the crowds.
Clyde marched beside Luna, ever the vigilant guard, ensuring a careful distance between her and other attendees.
Fewer people were in this section compared to the commoner area, so maintaining that space was hardly a challenge.
“I have to say, I’m a little shocked you’re here,” Cecil drawled, giving Luna a slow once-over, her voice thick with false innocence. “Though, I suppose, even the fragile get a little leash now and then.”
Luna didn’t rise to the bait. As much as she hated Cecil’s tone, the surprise wasn’t unwarranted—she’d been just as surprised. She’d expected to be tucked away somewhere, watching from a safe distance. Maybe it was a test. If tonight went well, perhaps more freedoms would follow.
“Honestly, me too,” she admitted. “The only rule given was to stay in the roped-off noble section.”
Not that it was needed; there was no reason for her to stray into the commoner’s area.
“Easy enough,” Venita said with an encouraging smile, picking up a glass of champagne off a merchant’s stand.
All the nobility vendors operated on an honour system, keeping tabs for each noble family so they wouldn’t have to carry coin on their person.
Emily picked up a glass of champagne, too, followed by Cecil and Luna.
“A toast,” Emily declared, raising her glass high. “To Luna’s first protection ceremony. Let it be a great one.”
Their glasses clinked together, a quiet cheer passing between them before they each took a sip. The liquid was crisp and cool, splashing lightly against Luna’s lips as she drank.
“I’ll toast to that,” a familiar voice said.
Luna turned to find the prince standing directly behind her.
He was dressed in a deep midnight-blue, the fine silk and embroidery catching the firelight in a way that made it seem almost woven with starlight.
A tailored high-collared coat framed his broad shoulders, the gold accents subtle but undeniably regal.
As always, he wore his ever-present smirk that made it impossible to tell whether he was amused or scheming.
The ladies curtsied, and he bid them to rise. His eyes lingered on Emily a second longer than everyone else before settling on Luna. “Enjoying your hat?”
“Of course,” Luna said with a dip of her chin. “Thank you again. It is much preferred to having servants follow me around.”
He flicked the feather. “I’d call this a selfless gift, wouldn’t you agree, Emily?”
Emily cast her gaze downwards, before looking up at him through her lashes. “One moment of generosity does not equate to a generous man.”
Cecil gasped. “Emily! Who are you to question Prince Kieran’s generosity?
!” Cecil turned to the prince, stepping in front of Emily to block her; a not-so-subtle power move.
“Please forgive my friend’s manners. Her mother grew up in the country, you must not blame her.
Her opinion is beneath us; do not mind her, Your Highness. ”
The air shifted.
Luna and Venita shared a look, both clearly sensing the discomfort spreading through the group. The noble court was built on hierarchy, but ranking had little to do with birth and everything to do with status—something Emily understood better than most.
One could be born a maid and, with the right connections and cunning, rise to the title of lady.
Whether respect came with that title, however, was another matter entirely.
It’s why their mother worked so hard to ensure her daughters were beyond reproach, so that people like Cecil would have no choice but to choke on their own words.
Luna turned back just in time to see Emily’s expression darken.
Slowly, deliberately, Emily stepped sideways, slipping out from behind Cecil’s attempt at shielding her.
She lifted her chin, her lips curving into the sharpest, sweetest smile Luna had ever seen.
“My apologies, Prince Kieran,” She spoke with a practiced softness, yet each word was barbed beneath the polish.
“Your kindness is known to all. Who am I to question it?”
What was she doing? Emily was not the type of woman to be humbled.
Before Cecil could bask in her supposed victory, Kieran tilted his head, studying her with that lazy sort of amusement he wore so well. His tone was light, but his words struck like a well-placed blade.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he mused, “but I do believe both of your fathers sit on my father’s council. By that logic, if Emily is considered lowly, then so are you.”
Cecil stiffened.
He hadn’t raised his voice, hadn’t even sounded offended—and yet, the insult was unmistakable. He’d leveled the playing field in a single breath.
Venita took a slow sip of her champagne, clearly hiding a smile behind her glass.
“Kieran,” he corrected, as if this was the thousandth time he had reminded Emily how to address him, and reached for her hand.
She placed it in his and he softly laid a kiss upon it.
“Given the history, I can understand your hesitation. But it should show that I am capable of taking care of all . . .”—he paused for a minute, as if searching for the correct term—“types.”
Emily dipped her head lower, her lashes fluttering just enough to feign humility. “I wouldn’t dare question what you are capable of, Kieran.”
She pulled her hand away, twisting the knife deeper as she turned—not away, but directly towards Cecil.
Her brown eyes were cold as she held Cecil’s gaze for just a moment too long, letting the name linger like an aftertaste.
The casual way she said it, the ease of familiarity; it was all designed to bite.
The unspoken message was clear: I call him Kieran, and you never will.
Venita gently nudged Luna, grabbing for her hand and Cecil’s. “We’ll give you two some privacy.”
They wandered the ceremonial grounds, browsing the wares each vendor had on display. The entire time, Cecil did nothing but complain about Emily’s behavior, unfazed by Luna’s presence.
“I don’t understand what the prince sees in that girl,” she said bitterly.
“Love often isn’t explainable,” Venita replied simply.
“He isn’t in love—infatuated maybe. But love? Ha! Why would a prince, who could have anyone he wants, fall for a nobody.”
It was annoying how determined Cecil was on keeping the prince on whatever pedestal she had placed him.
Was Luna really the only person who saw his awful side?
She exhaled sharply and headed to a merchant’s table lined with fresh flowers.
The ladies were in the middle of selecting some to send back to their houses when Rory approached.
He had eyes for only Venita, greeting her with a kiss on her hand, not sparing even a glance for Luna or Cecil. “Evening, beautiful.”
Venita giggled, a smile spreading across her face. “Evening to you.”
“Would you still be interested in that dance?” he asked, fidgeting with the hem of his dark crimson tunic.
Venita wrapped her hand around his arm and leaned against his shoulder. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Without so much as a glance backwards, they scurried off towards the massive fire where nobility and commoners alike danced to the pounding drums. People moved wildly, stomping and twirling as if they were the flames flickering in the fire; no steps, no rules, just raw energy.
Cecil scoffed. “No offence, but standing on the sidelines with you is social suicide. I’m going to find a dance partner.”
And with that, she trotted past the roped-off section and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Luna behind.
She stood motionless, heat warming her cheeks. Being left out was the part she hated most about the king’s restrictions for her. Envy clawed her heart as she watched Venita and Rory dance, moving their bodies together, so utterly carefree.
A shadow loomed next to her, and for a moment, she thought Damien had come. When she turned, she was surprised to see Clyde standing there—though she wasn’t sure why. He was her personal guard, after all.
She smiled up at him, hoping to ease the tension between them caused by last night.
He didn’t look at her, though.
His focus remained locked on the crowd.
So she followed his gaze, squinting through the ambient glow of the fire, over to a trio dancing together. William was among them, moving fluidly between the two women, their steps matching the rhythm of the drums.
“He looks like he is enjoying himself.” Luna gestured.
Clyde stiffened like a man caught doing something he shouldn’t be. How odd.
Clyde said in a hushed, rather monotone voice, “The brunette is Diera, his lady, and the other is her friend, Quinn.”
Diera danced angelically, her pink frilly dress swishing around her with every movement. She looked like a confection—soft, sweet, and deliberately eye-catching. If William had a sweet tooth, she was the cure.
Luna’s attention shifted to Quinn, who had stopped dancing and was staring right back at her. Luna stumbled, caught off guard by the deep venom in the woman’s eyes—a viper ready to strike at any moment. What was her problem?
No longer interested in watching others have a good time, Luna headed towards the stands.