Chapter 16
Sixteen
Fresh air whips my face as Klara joins me in the late king’s turret chamber, where the wall opens to meet the bright blue sky.
The place where it all changed for me.
Now it’s where we hide away from the world.
We gaze through the telescope overlooking the bustling city as the foliage shimmers in vibrant shades of pale yellows, stark oranges, and angry reds that mix with the ruby-colored tiled roofs and thatched cottages spreading in every direction.
On the far edge of the rounded Alexandrian Bay, the waves teem with sea vessels of varying sizes, dotting the water like fish caught in a net. Klara gasps, “So many ships are arriving! Did you see the envoy from the Solarian Isles?”
Tilting my head, I only half-listen as I study the laborers building grandstands for the crowds to watch my upcoming coronation procession. After weeks of preparation and waiting, I can’t believe today is finally happening.
I’m actually going through with it.
“Are you nervous?” Klara asks, breaking my reverie as she plops into a chair.
I consider denying it, but instead admit, “I’ve been trying to prepare by studying those textbooks Mistress Wella gave me.
” I survey the tower of neglected books on the circular table across the room.
“But I’m afraid reading a few pages here and there isn’t the same as a life devoted to learning governance. ”
“You won’t be alone. I’ll help just like we discussed in the council meeting.” She pauses as I frown. “Hey, you stood up to the High Lords this morning, and if you can stand up to them, you can run this kingdom.”
I let out a huff of air and readjust the knobs on the telescope. “And Balor Black is probably plotting his revenge as we speak.”
Not knowing I’m serious, Klara throws her strawberry tresses back, laughs, and covers her mouth with a lace-gloved hand as she leans into the cushions.
“My father was a brilliant shade of perplexed when you named me your advisor. I’ll never forget his nostrils flaring so wide I could count his nose hairs. ”
Memories of the hours-long meeting rush back when I remember how they pressed me for my signature on documents I couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
Pages and pages of minuscule writing, drafted in the technical language of the military.
The thought anchors a prickly thorn in my stomach.
“Do you think I was too hasty in approving those battle and raid plans?”
Klara looks thoughtful. “The war has been going on for hundreds of years. You didn’t start it, so stop feeling guilty about protecting our people and our kingdom.”
“Easier said than done,” I tell her.
“I wouldn’t worry. At least you’re on the offensive with the Witch-King. We don’t need our side to lose any more than we already have. It might ruin your marriage prospects.”
I bark a laugh and then give a slight cough. “You should know I plan to refuse to marry, so that shouldn’t be an issue.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
Crestfallen, she says, “Well… at least consider it for my sake. I’m not going to lie; it would be nice to be knocked down the line of succession a bit.
That way, my father can finally lose any hope he might harbor for my ascension.
He’s driving me mad with his temper about this entire ordeal.
Next month, I fear it’ll only worsen when I come of age. ”
I bite my lip until it stings. Right before my coronation is not the time to tell her I plan to abdicate. It will have to wait longer still.
I avoid meeting her eyes. “I’m not marrying without love, and love is a fairytale used to lure women to their eventual demise. It’s not like those romance novels I gave you. Those men are imaginary. Real men are monsters once they have you helpless.”
Klara slowly smiles, an adorable dimple showing in one of her plump cheeks as she returns to the telescope. “There are a couple of monsters I wouldn’t mind falling for. And anyway, Finn isn’t like that at all.”
A resigned sigh escapes my lips.
For too long, I’ve been coupled against my will, and if I married, it would be a whole new power struggle for which I lack the patience or fortitude.
Not to mention most kings, princes, and lords demand heirs, and my coronation today doesn’t mean I’ll change my mind and want to become a mother.
Nothing has changed in that regard, and if the cathedral agreed to give me back my Rite, I would take it in a heartbeat.
It’s not to be, though, because when I inquired, the Priest Elder resisted, citing ancient laws that reserve the Rite’s potion for active Lady Courtesans only.
Meaning I would have to settle for herbs from the midwife’s garden, which don’t always work.
“I read in the papers that Empress Erah sent her son, Prince Everett, and he plans to offer for your hand since the Beast Realm is a key ally. I’ve seen portraits of him… he’s quite handsome. Handsome enough to rethink your stance on marriage, I think!” She teases with a singsong quality.
Ignoring her, I shoulder-bump her out of the way to peer through the golden telescope again. I strain to spy on Lir’s cottage from this angle.
“Or you could marry one of the Solarian King’s sons. He’s got several to choose from.” She claps her hands. “Oh! Then we would—”
We’re interrupted when a maid with wild, unkempt hair barges in.
She seems to have been searching high and low.
“I’ve found them!” she yells down the spiral staircase before she’s joined by the other attendants carrying an assortment of primping tools.
She clutches her side, panting. “We can do this here, or we can move this down to the royal chambers. But we are not going away!” She gasps for air as Klara and I glance at each other before bursting into laughter.
* * *
The music of the Coronation Ball swells as the humming instruments tune in and out of harmony, like the weaving of a tapestry.
The sounds float over me as I sway on my slippered feet.
I smooth my gown of fluttering tulle, adorned with embroidered opals and moonstones, while an itchy gold-and-pearl laurel wreath rests atop my circlet.
Not caring to stop myself, I let out a stifled yawn, exhausted from the coronation that lasted all day.
From across the ballroom, I send Klara a small smile, and she returns it with that flash of a dimple.
A handful of noblemen’s sons surround her, vying for her first Basse dance.
She’s never been to a ball before, so when she begged me not to make her wait until she came of age, I quickly and happily relented.
The best part of my coronation is that I can make tonight memorable for her.
I, on the other hand, plan to dance only once before I escape with my books for the night. Because tomorrow comes early—and I plan to be at the High Council table.
Briggs is my first choice to open the initial dance with, but he stumbles into the garden bushes, having clearly overindulged in the flowing wine.
I snatch a piece of peppered cheese from the silver tray being passed around by a servant and chew while contemplating my next choice. Heat rises up my neck, making me hope my chest isn’t flushing with anxious splotches.
A minute slowly ticks by.
His eyes meet mine through the crowd.
Behind a sheepish Balor Black—whom I ignore—stands the handsome orc lord I keep running into.
Towering with his extreme build and height, he’s easy to spot.
No longer wearing his red armor, he now sports a regal velvet and leather tunic.
Burgundy curls sweep over to the side of his rugged face while his bottom lip protrudes slightly in a pouty way, and I wonder if he’s hiding tusks.
His arched eyebrow ticks up in response to my stare as he runs a hand along one of his pointed ears lined with hoops and stud piercings.
He has an undeniably mischievous expression as he watches me.
I don’t trust him, but he’ll make a decent dance partner.
The crowd parts, and Balor scowls as I step past him and offer my hand to the newcomer. The orc lord bows before raising my hand high for all to see, leading us to the center of the ballroom. A hush falls over the nobles like a tide receding from the empty shore.
Barely concealed anger glitters behind his orange-colored eyes. The chords of the orchestra strike, and he spins me into his arms—hard. Shocked, I peer into his face, but he only smiles, betraying nothing.
“You honor me with this dance,” he murmurs against my ear.
“It’s the least I could do after your help with the carriage accident.” With the fast steps of the dance, my breathing becomes challenging. “Now, could you tell me your name in return?”
“Perhaps I shouldn’t oblige you until we meet again,” he answers with a wink. “Just to be fair.” He twirls me around the floor. Although he’s much larger, he never treads onto my toes.
Everyone gawks.
Everyone whispers.
We pass by another couple, and my sensitive ears hear the woman exclaim, “Prince Everett—really? Are you sure? He looks like Empress Erah, but green, doesn’t he?”
I suppress a smirk as we glide through the swishing skirts and embracing couples. The scent of spice and something floral tickles my nose whenever he pulls close.
So the mysterious orc lord is the prince that Klara couldn’t keep quiet about. “Prince Everett, is what I hear?” I say lightly, enjoying the rhythm of our bodies. “You didn’t plan to withhold your name for petty reasons, did you?”
His expression shifts from mock surprise to easy amusement. “I was simply savoring the mystery of our continued encounters.”
“And what if I wanted to make your acquaintance properly this time?”
He flashes sharp teeth as he presses close again. “It would be my pleasure. Prince Everett Delamere of the Empire of the Beast Realm… but you should know that I prefer to be called Rett. The title gets tedious.”
Not many make me curious, but he does. “If you tell me more about your home, I’ll allow you to call me Tabitha,” I offer.
“Okay, Tabitha,” he repeats. “Where should I begin?”
“I’ve never traveled to the Beast Realm before. I hear it’s like the Human Realm but with mostly beastfolk.”
He nods, guiding me into a sweeping turn where he supports my exposed back with his broad, firm hand.
“There’s a mix of monsters and halflings and humans—that’s true.
But everyone lives together harmoniously, enjoying our southern climate and thriving artistic culture,” Rett describes, his voice rich with love for his home.
“You must allow me to escort you there someday. You’ll see how peaceful it is, a place ruled by a single empire rather than the land broken up and squabbled over by different kingdoms as you do in the Human Realm. ”
“It sounds wonderful,” I say, but my attention drifts. From the shadowy edge of the ballroom, Balor’s dark eyes track my every move like a gathering storm. His presence feels ominous, sucking the lightness from the air. Sweat beads along my temples.
“The Empire abolished many archaic laws generations ago. Women have full rights and freedoms.” He gives me a meaningful stare. “I think you’d find Delamere quite forward-thinking.”
I return his gaze, not wanting to see Balor. “I’d like to visit someday. To experience it for myself.”
“This song is about to end, but I must tell you my true reason for being here tonight.” Tension simmers under his words.
Rett lifts and catches me by my waist as the melody climaxes, pausing our conversation momentarily.
He lowers me, and my hand rests on his smooth palm as the room spins.
“I want to share so much more with you, but we cannot risk being overheard.”
I’m unsure whether my heart is beating fast because of the physical exertion or the danger in his words. I whisper, “Is it something serious?”
“Don’t look now,” he says. “The Grand Chancellor is walking toward us. If you wish to learn the truth about what’s happening in your kingdom, meet me at the Pickled Pixie Tavern tonight.” He pulls away, his smile twitching as he baits me.
But before I can give him my reply, Balor intrudes. His frigid hands clamp around mine as he demands the next dance, looking practically murderous.