Chapter 13
The city of Pontarena served as a border between Gallae and Hadria.
There was an unusual combination of the nations’ architectural influence dominating the isthmus.
Every building shined with polished, colorful tiles that accentuated whitewashed walls and terracotta rooftops.
Cobblestone and marble clashed in the streets, as if the land that so frequently changed hands over the centuries had been revisited time and again by different masons.
Narrow streets spilled out into sun-drenched plazas that smelled of the seas, jasmine, and rosemary.
Moving the carriage’s sheer curtains aside, I pressed my palm against the window frame and pushed down, letting the glass panel slide into its housing. A welcome breeze filled the cabin. The townsfolk carried on as usual, paying little mind to our procession.
By the time we approached the palace, I understood why the commoners ignored our showcase of wealth.
A great symmetrical structure overlooked the town below, a permanent reminder of excess.
White limestone facades were dotted with both arched and rounded windows, flying buttresses lead to round towers that emerged from the water on either side, and scenic balconies were fenced with elaborate braids of wrought iron.
A citrus orchard lined the incline, the tangy scent especially mouthwatering after another day of travel.
The viscount rode off to the side, plucking ripe oranges from the lower branches and placing them in a woven basket. He delivered them to the carriage, reserving one for himself. “Ladies?”
“Well, aren’t you a gentleman?” Winnie thanked him, receiving the basket through the window. She passed the oranges along to the handmaidens, then peeled one for me. The cabin filled with their pleasant scent.
Winnie’s remark might have been playful, but it was true. Lord Quinn—perhaps just Quinn to me now—was rather sweet.
I smiled at the viscount. He faltered, then flicked the reins and trotted his gelding to the prince. He made an inaudible comment, and Nicolas’ laughter carried to our cabin as he threw his head back in mirth. The sound was rich and unguarded, so different from his usual demeanor.
The coastal sun transmuted gold from Nicolas’ hair.
One of the handmaidens sighed dreamily at the sight of him.
“It always brings me joy to see them together. The viscount has a way of bringing out another side of our dear prince, as if the masks of station are removed and the souls beneath lay bare.”
The other servants got a rise out of that, seeming more amused by how it was said than the meaning of it.
“Gods, look at it,” Winnie remarked as her gaze returned to the palace. “It extends nearly to the sea on both ends.”
As the only land-based route from Gallae to Hadria, the palace capitalized on its prime location. A wide gate split the building in half, heavily-guarded and equipped with a small office for toll collections.
The carriages arrived in the courtyard, halting to the left of the palace thoroughfare.
A fat man pushed his way through an oversized set of doors, and by the ostentatious way he dressed and conducted himself, I knew that this was the reputed Lord Marius Costa.
The cap of his skull shined in sunny reflection, and he was so rotund that he rather resembled an egg in a cup.
Jewelry clinked along with the rhythm of his stride, shining atop his doublet of blue and mulberry.
Despite the ornate nature of his clothes, he appeared comfortable in the coastal warmth, whereas the Gallaeans all shimmered with sweat.
Fortunately for me, the warm climate meant I didn’t have to wear makeup. My skin thanked me for the reprieve.
“Hello, good Prince Nicolas!” Lord Marius bowed with a flourish. “It’s been too long since you last graced us with your presence! But I shall not hold you up—not with you all dressed like mountainfolk. Your women will faint in such drapery.”
“This location is blessed,” Nicolas said from atop his white horse, the sea breeze tousling his hair. His usual tension was entirely absent as he climbed down. “The wind keeps it temperate.”
Lord Marius smiled in agreement, then turned to Quinn atop his mount. “By the gods, surely you cannot be Quinn Navarro! But how you’ve grown, little lord!”
“I was an adult, last we met,” Quinn countered. “I haven’t been a ‘little lord’ in some time.”
“Aye, but in my mind’s eye you are still the lad brought to me for fostering.
I fear that image will remain until there’s gray in your hair,” said Lord Marius.
Quinn snorted and swung down from his mount.
“Come along, all of you! My servants shall bring along refreshments and fresh clothing for tonight’s gathering.
I’ll personally see you to the guest chambers. ”
The prince and Quinn stood beside him as everyone else filed into the building, save for the coachmen. I walked with Winnie, pausing to greet the lord at the entrance while Nicolas made introductions. “Lord Marius, this is my intended, Lady Alana Chastain.”
Lord Marius kissed my hand with full, damp lips, then moved on to both of my cheeks. I looked to the prince for help, thoroughly moistened by sweat and slobber. Behind him, Quinn snickered.
“Hadrians are an expressive lot,” the prince spoke up, tickled by the lord’s outrageous welcome. “By nightfall, your cheeks will ache with the weight of their greetings.”
I hesitantly curtsied, unsure of how to reciprocate. Lord Marius held his stomach as he laughed. “Have I rendered you speechless, dear lady?”
The prince cleared his throat, folding his hands behind his back. “My lady is quite religious, my lord. She cannot speak in the presence of men other than myself. It is part of a sacred vow made to please the Lady of Day.”
Quinn raised an eyebrow at the lie, but Lord Marius accepted it. “Well, a quiet woman! I did not think such a thing existed in the world. The gods are good.”
Now why did that sound familiar?
I craned my head to Nicolas, but his smile faltered. “I consider myself privileged, actually. The rest of you don’t know what you’re missing.”
Clapping his hands in delight, the lord led us inside.
We were greeted right away by colorful displays of geometry and art.
Scenic landscapes and histories muraled the clean, whitewashed walls, leading up into coffered ceilings.
It had all the warmth of Hadria, only slightly tempered by Gallaean elements.
I was taken to my room first. Winnie opened the window for fresh air, and before she could return to close the door, a cluster of lower servants entered behind us.
Their clothing was so revealing, I had to gasp and turn away.
Setting a chest onto the floor, the women left just as quickly, leaving Winnie to plunder whatever was left behind.
She took out a heap of colorful clothes and dropped them like she’d seen a cockroach. “Why, this would hardly suffice as nightwear! They can’t mean to dress you in such a manner!”
I retrieved a burgundy dress and held it up. The neckline plunged nearly to the navel, with sheer, ornately-laced sleeves already attached to the garment. At least it was more coverage than what the servant girls wore. “I think they mean for us both to wear them.”
Winnie covered her mouth, carefully lifting another gown with the same distance given to soiled garments. “What would my mother say?”
I laughed. “I don’t believe I’ve heard you speak of your parents before. You must be rather shocked to bring them up now.”
A flash of darkness spread through Winnie’s features. Obviously I’d touched on something sensitive, so I dug through the chest for a distraction. With her dark brunette hair and brown eyes, light colors would do her wonders; I retrieved a nude pink dress and held it up to the lady-in-waiting.
“This will do nicely. It’s a shame Duke Minnick isn’t here. Imagine how you would fluster him.”
“My lady!” Winnie protested.
“It looks easy to put on,” I noted, disrobing myself without help.
Winnie was too horrified to speak. As I went to the mirror, I took off even my chemise, standing nude before the reflection.
I slid the lightweight fabric easily over my head, working my arms cautiously through the lacy sleeves.
Once it was on, I couldn’t help but blush— Mother was right, I had filled out—yet I admired the obvious craftsmanship of the gown.
Within the armoire, I located accessories to match; with golden clasps, I attached a translucent burgundy cape to my shoulders, then added a belt to my waist. It paired well with the white leaves embroidered into the main fabric. “How did I do?”
Winnie gathered her wits. She grimaced at the revealing garments, then came to add her own accessories to the ensemble.
Beaded seashells now dangled from the belt, and a delicate jeweled necklace finished the piece.
“To think you found yourself so startled by Gallaean fineries only weeks ago! If that is all, my lady, I think I shall remain in here.”
“You truly won’t do it?” I asked, pouting.
“Not a chance.”
“You would send your lady out alone in such a dress, forsaking the comfort your solidarity would provide?”
“I would.”
I grinned. “I hereby invoke my status and command you to put on the dress.”
Winnie put her hands on her hips, glaring. When she saw that I didn’t intend to back down, she huffed loudly and gave in, snatching the pink gown up and stealing away behind the privacy of a screen. She complained the entire time she got dressed, but I ignored it as I sat at the edge of the bed.
“Have you considered the prince’s reaction?” Winnie asked, coming around the dressing screen so she could see herself in the vanity. She took out her earrings and found a set of pearls to match while I observed, impressed with her figure. “He may disapprove, or worse, he might eat you alive!”
My heart sank. I hadn’t thought of Nicolas at all. “The viscount shall protect me.”
“You’re a fool to think so. If the prince commanded it, Lord Navarro would serve you on a silver platter!”
An unbidden image flashed through my mind: Quinn’s dark eyes as he lowered me onto silk sheets and pinned my arms above my head, all while Nicolas watched from the shadows with a hungry, possessive gaze.
I squeezed my thighs together, shocked by my own imagination. When had I become the sort of person who could envision such scandals? And worse, why did the thought set my soul aflame?
“Don’t tell me your thoughts went where I think they went,” Winnie said, noticing my sudden flush. Her shoulders were entirely bare, and the fabric clung to her curves so much that it might as well have been absent. “You’ve gone rather red.”
Thank the gods for that distraction. I stared, biting my lips to withhold a laugh.
“What?” Winnie snapped.
“Heavens, Winnie, you’re positively buxom—like a well-fed partridge,” I replied frankly. “Where have you been hiding those?”
Winnie threw a decorative pillow at my face, groaning with humiliation. “Lady Tharon has been a terrible influence!”