37
Dusk grumbled at the nearing server.
Before he could reach us, I declined a beverage with a shake of my head. He retreated into the sea of colorful attire flooding the ballroom.
It was once my favorite place to be. Incessantly, I would don my best gowns and twirl and dance. I would have pretend conversations with the flowers throughout the circular room until I grew too old to get away with such things.
Despite the damage to other parts of the castle, those pink and purple and orange flowers remained bright and flourishing. They cascaded across the high ceiling from vines that spiraled down the six cream columns, the stone beds surrounding them overflowing with more.
Flame swayed from the stained glass chandeliers above. Like the columns, there were six of them. Which meant I was easily recognized despite standing near the back of the ballroom.
Although a thorn poked a hole in my burnt-orange gown, I stayed leaning against the column. I didn’t trust that my feet wouldn’t carry me out of here, and I didn’t want anyone trying to pet Dusk. Neither did she.
I also didn’t want to socialize. Mostly because I wasn’t sure how to talk to people who’d spent much of their evening discussing me in hardly flattering ways. Mercifully, all the chatter about me meant few people cared to acknowledge me.
So it was shocking to see someone who’d barely approved of me before the war approach.
Lady Rosedon stopped a healthy distance from us. I still tensed. Feeling it, Dusk growled. I hushed her but stroked her soft head.
Tyressa’s mother clutched her wineglass tight as she spoke. “My daughter has told me all about your time together at the archives.” Her voice lowered. “And while I appreciate you keeping her safe, I cannot say that I’m appreciative of her new attitude.”
I blinked. “Tyressa is a lovely young lady.”
“Was.” She sneered. “Now, she is constantly arguing, running, and out in the gardens.” Lady Rosedon feigned a shiver. “Attempting to give life to wilted flowers and getting covered in dirt.”
“She has a gift,” I said carefully. “As do you.”
“Princess…” Her cinnamon eyes flared. “Gifted we may be, but we are not groundskeepers.” Flicking a brown curl from her cheek, she hissed, “She also won’t stop crying because she found out that you are to marry the king responsible for us staying in the guest cottages on our ruined estate.”
I didn’t know if I was supposed to apologize…
The fiddle players stopped mid-song, causing quiet to befall the ballroom.
Lady Rosedon frowned, then turned. As murmuring arose, she gripped the mountainous skirts of her maroon gown, the bronzed leaves adorning it crushed, and hurried back to her husband.
I blew out a breath and smiled at Dusk when I found her watching me.
“My dearest friends.” My father’s raised voice traveled from the middle of the room. “I cannot thank all of you enough for your support and fortitude during these disastrous times.”
People shifted forward—bunched together in a squashed circle—leaving me unable to see more than glimpses of my father’s face.
“We have gathered here tonight to celebrate the peace gained from my sacrifices, but also to recognize those made by all of you.” A brief silence was trailed by some gasps. “To honor that and keep your faith in me, I wish to do what few in my position have done before.”
I braced—prepared to be called forward to his side.
“As so many have, I married for my kingdom,” he went on. “I hid my heart for my kingdom.” More gasps echoed as he declared, “So it is with great relief that I finally introduce you to my mate, Dena, and our son, Evexon.”
That pit in my stomach filled with acid.
It bubbled as bodies shifted. Some guests fought for a closer look at these people my father had mentioned. Others turned to look for me. In doing so, they gave a slim view of my father as he embraced a male who appeared no older than me.
And beside them…
His mate. The one he’d boasted about rejecting for the sake of his kingdom. For the sake of his wife. For the sake of his heart.
All lies.
“May the mother reward us all for embracing the path she chose for me.”
As my father continued to sell his secrets as miracles, I barely heard him. I stared at the blond female, and she stared at me as if seeing a ghost. As if seeing my mother, I thought morosely when my father worsened the bleeding by looping an arm around her waist.
Dusk screeched.
I would have rubbed my ears had they not already been ringing.
“All hail your soon-to-be queen and prince,” my father finished.
But no one did.
No one clapped. Even the flowers seemed to shrink, petals shivering and folding as the silence screamed and tightened.
And that male, Evexon…
His broad shoulders hunched, his distinct cheeks rosy. I didn’t care how uncomfortable he clearly was. That familiar medium-brown hair curling into his freckle-dusted skin, and those purple eyes—so dark that they almost appeared black—ripped all I was in two.
Undeniably my father’s son.
Someone muttered dryly, “You know things are dire when the spare is unearthed.”
Lady Rosedon chortled, her eyes catching mine before she leaned into her husband and whispered to him.
Hot tears clouded my vision. An anger so absolute pounded in my chest like a stone fist. As a chorus of forced cheer finally erupted, I snatched wine from a frozen server.
I drained the glass, slunk into the shadows, then made my escape.
“Wait,” someone hollered.
The carriage rocked to a halt.
Dusk shot up so fast, her grunt sounded like a snort. She hissed as the door opened. Her attempt at snarling exposed her tongue and tiny teeth.
Although she wasn’t much bigger than the well-fed castle cats she’d been chasing for the past moon, the male still startled back a step.
Evexon.
Throwing a hand into his chestnut hair, he blinked continuously. “Apologies, Princess, but I just had to—”
“Don’t suppose you like your hands attached to your wrists, pest?” Gorgen, a white-haired male who gave the impression of a retired warrior, pulled my father’s hidden son back by his tunic. “Know this audacious creature, Princess?”
I lifted a shoulder. “No.”
Evexon scowled at me, then at the driver he shook off. “I’m her half brother.”
The explanation only served to make Gorgen broaden his unwelcoming grin. Eyes agleam, he looked the male up and down. “Thought the rumored bastard would be more impressive.”
I rolled my lips between my teeth, unable to disagree. And not merely because I hated this turn of events. As handsome as Evexon was, he had a fumbling way about him.
While the ball had drawn to a gossiping close, I’d watched.
From the second floor, I’d peered through the banisters as he’d tried to navigate the maze of halls below, continuously sidetracked by portraits and statues and even the cats kept solely to rid the castle of vermin.
The crooning voice he’d used while speaking to them had echoed up to me, endearing and sickening.
Sighing, I leaned forward to keep Dusk from fluttering toward the males. “Could you give us five minutes, Gorgen?”
The driver nodded once, then pointed at Evexon. “I’ll be keeping both eyes on you.”
Evexon plucked at his stretched ivory tunic and waited until Gorgen retreated. Swallowing harshly, he carefully procured a wrapped item from his belt. “Here.” He offered it to me. “I hope you’ll accept this as a token of good faith.”
My brows leapt. “Good faith?”
Dusk huffed.
Evexon glanced at her before lifting the cloth. Within lay a small glass vial that contained a milky substance.
Some sort of poison.
I blinked at it. Then I frowned at my father’s secret, hoping Gorgen couldn’t see Evexon’s reason for halting us.
“Use this to change your fate,” Evexon urged, barely a whisper. “Over the years, Father has told me tales of his life at the castle, and within many of them were mentions of you.” His next words were almost inaudible. “Mainly of your desire to become queen.”
Anger and betrayal burned my throat as I imagined my father sitting by a hearth with his mate and illegitimate son, laughing about me and my whimsical dreams.
It made sense now. My father’s absences. The laughter in his eyes I’d mistaken for adoration. His refusal to include me in anything to do with the kingdom—to ready me for the role I’d believed I would one day step into.
He’d never intended for me to inherit the Cloverleaf throne. Nor the Scale Crown.
“Please.” Evexon dared to push the half-wrapped vial onto my lap.
But I stared at his eyes. My father’s eyes. Noted the desperate sheen coating them. And I knew with certainty.
He didn’t know.
This soon-to-be prince had no idea that I wasn’t being delivered to Valadorn. That I would wed Prince Meront instead of King Raxon. It felt like a small victory. One that felt even smaller when I remembered Evexon was the true victor here.
When I remembered he’d been given everything I wanted.
“A queen I shall become,” I lied coldly. Bitterly. “And far quicker than I ever could have dreamed.”
I didn’t want his pity. I didn’t want anything from him at all.
His thick brows bunched, and his wet eyes narrowed. Inspecting him, the hair speckling the square jaw he’d inherited from our father and the plush state of his ruddy cheeks, worsened the ache within my chest.
I’d learned he was only three years younger than me. But the life he’d had—modest and hidden from clever eyes—seemed to have made his soul softer than even mine. His concern was irrefutably genuine.
Even so, I wrapped the vial and handed it back. “Keep it, half brother. You’ll soon find there are fates worse than being thrown to the wolves.”
“What could possibly be worse than marrying that monster of a king?” His throat bobbed. He then whispered, “Bedding him?”
I was tempted to smile. To tell him that our dear father had more than spare heirs up his embroidered sleeve.
But I just said, “I suppose I have days of travel to mull that over.” I took his hand, folded his fingers over the cloth, then patted them. “For now, I take solace in knowing that a monster doesn’t hide its intent to attack.”
I gestured to Gorgen, and my half brother was forced to step back as he approached to close the door.