Chapter 59 #2
I drink in every bit of her appearance. A far cry from her warrior leathers and breastplate, she dons a stunning ballgown of magenta gauze cinched high at the waist beneath her bust. Embroidered straps crisscross over her cleavage and exposed back, offering subtle glimpses of her smooth, russet skin.
She grins at me, but my eyes are drawn up to her tiara, set with dangling teardrop diamonds that fall into her curled and coiffed pink hair.
The largest gemstones rest on her forehead, suspended from delicate silver chains over her violet eyes.
The light bounces, reminding me of stars twinkling on a calm night.
“Valora!” I stammer, “I—I didn’t know you would be attending tonight. I wasn’t even sure if it was you at first. Your gown almost makes you unrecognizable.”
“Would you prefer I wear my fighting leathers to a royal ball?” she asks, cocking an eyebrow.
My face flushes. “No, that’s not—I didn’t think you enjoyed dresses—that’s all I meant.”
“Don’t be immature,” she chastises, making me realize how much I missed her. “Women aren’t required to relinquish their femininity the minute they pick up a sword.”
She’s absolutely right, but my eyes slowly dart past her, searching. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. I half-expect his shadowy form to walk around one of these sandstone pillars at any moment.
“He’s not here… if that’s who you’re looking for,” she says in a knowing whisper.
Something high in my chest crashes, and I choke slightly. “Good. He shouldn’t come here, not after that battle with Rett. Too many died—needlessly, I might add.” I cast her an assessing look. “Actually, you probably shouldn’t be here either.”
Complicated emotions muddle my mind. Valora isn’t aware that I know Ashland must kill me to break the curse placed on his kingdom. No matter how much I miss her, I can’t afford to trust her.
She will always be loyal to him first.
“Don’t worry about my presence here. My family’s fortune keeps many doors open, especially for those wishing to meet my father.
Transgressions can often be overlooked with an Andarta last name and coin pouch.
It’s both a blessing and a curse…” Nodding to a wealthy noblewoman, she adds, “The real reason I came tonight is to secure a favor from a friend, but I almost didn’t make it in time. I’ve only just arrived.”
She hooks her arm through mine and diverts us from the lingering crowds gathered at the edge of the ballroom. We keep strolling toward the reverberating orchestra, allowing the music to drown out our conversation so no one overhears us.
Barely audible, I whisper, “Did you find them? The missing girls?”
Valora’s lips tighten in a straight line and pain fills her eyes.
She shakes her head, the teardrop diamonds bouncing as she leans in.
The answer steals the breath from my lungs.
I open my mouth to ask more, but she cuts me off before I can speak.
“I’m assuming they’ve kept you abreast about your kingdom? ”
“I’ve learned what happened. No thanks to you.” Every muscle in my body tenses, remembering how I begged her to tell me anything that might have been happening in Alexandria while I was captive. How she never relented—and now she asks that question of me so casually, like it’s nothing.
“Listen,” she urges, “we don’t have time to wax poetic over past choices, but I do want to help you now.”
“I’m in no need of your help. I have everything under control.”
“Don’t be a fool. I know exactly what you’re doing in this palace. The softness in your muscles proves you no longer remember the weight of a sword. You’ve grown weak.”
My brow furrows as her determined eyes meet mine. Sparks of challenge fly to meet my bitterness, crackling the air between us.
Valora keeps her voice lowered. “Our spies inform us that no one has seen Princess Klara for an alarming amount of time, but they’re also saying there have been no reports of her death, either.
The excuse is that she sickens with pregnancy while the new King Consort, Balor Black, co-rules with General Metalla.
To make matters worse, riots are breaking out in the city. ”
Every time I picture Klara carrying Balor’s child, I’m sure I’ll become violently ill—or worse, faint. I pick at the seams of my long gloves that are making my hands and inner elbows sweat. I manage to whisper, “If you think I’ve given up on her, then you don’t know me.”
“You’re right. I don’t know you. Not really.
Maybe parts of you, but knowing someone completely is an impossibility in this life.
So I think you are capable of everything or nothing at all.
” Her grasp on my arm tightens, though to anyone else watching, it would look like we are escorting each other through the outer rim of the ballroom, the dance floor still full of twirling, bejeweled nobility.
Her voice rises. “Oh, feel that breeze? You must show me the balcony!”
Arched double glass doors, identical to those in my guest chamber, line the walls. There are seven balconies in total, with the center one being the most prominent and the one that we head toward. We join the couples milling between potted palms and blooming flowers.
Through the glass panes of the door, I watch as Rett dances with his mother. The lights shimmer in their burgundy hair, while her gown is a dark blue—the same as her son’s tunic. The crowds watch with rapt attention.
Clinking sounds bring my attention back to Valora, who takes two stemmed glasses of white wine from a passing servant. She shoves one of them at me, and we move to the edge of the balcony.
The wind whips our dresses around our legs as the turquoise waves crash below. Valora turns to face me, her stance a reminder of the trainer who once saw something in me more than just a courtesan. “This is your opportunity,” she says as an ivory ship sails behind her on the black horizon.
“I know it is. If marrying Rett is what needs to be done, then I’ll do it. I’ve done far worse for the sake of duty.”
“Forget duty. If you aren’t careful, you’ll miss your destiny.”
My eyes flutter to the moving ship again. It’s eerily familiar.
“He’s here,” I whisper. “Isn’t he?”
The whispers chant in my mind, melding into the wind, bringing my focus solely to him.
She downs her drink. “You have options.”
“No, I don’t.” My heart plummets. “I’ve already made my choice.”
“You’ll cease to exist in a place like this.
They’ll keep you locked in the birthing chambers for years to come.
Do you really want to be absorbed into their schemes while they treat you as a broodmare?
Your kingdom’s welfare will never come first. They haven’t amassed this much wealth by being generous and kind.
I know from first-hand experience.” Her voice cracks.
I turn away, shaking my head, not wanting to listen. “I have no way of helping the people I care about otherwise.”
“There is always a different path, no matter how cornered you feel,” she pleads, grabbing my hand.
This could easily be the Witch-King’s attempt to lure me into his grasp again. Would I give myself so willingly to death?
“I will marry Rett,” I say, lifting my gaze to meet her eyes.
Valora slams the glass down on the balustrade railing, shattering it. “Can you honestly say you love him?”
I refuse to hesitate. “Of course,” I lie. “And even if I didn’t. It wouldn’t matter. Not now.”
We stand in heavy silence.
“The ship leaves at dawn,” she warns.
I inhale involuntarily. “My wedding is at dawn—”
“Then don’t get married.”