49. Gratitude
~ GRACE ~
That night, walking into the dining room on Breckon’s arm felt strangely familiar—which made me dizzy.
My body was strangely twisted about returning to this place.
It was frightening, because I’d felt so suffocated when I was here.
The constantly ticking clock, counting down toward these very events.
And yet, this was also the point at which the Creator launched me on an entirely new purpose. One I deeply did not want to give up.
Without having been here, I would never have met Koa, or Voski. Yet, by the same token, these nobles were the very court that had rejected me, leaving me trapped without hope, except in a betrothal contract to this man I despised.
I saw it in their catlike eyes, their mental claws sharpening as Breckon led me forward, and we came into view to the whole room—some shock, a lot of judgment, curiosity, and smug satisfaction.
None of these women had wished for Breckon for themselves.
And while some weren’t cruel, none had been true allies.
They all thought me odd. Or beneath notice.
My name was respected, but I was not. And they knew it.
I couldn’t bring them influence, so why would they bother offering time or energy to me, beyond gossip?
And still… Breckon, who had never been a name at Court, whose family had only been raised to the nobility three generations earlier, who was regarded for his wealth, but seen as a bit gauche because he continued to keep a hand in the actual doings of his estate, was now favored by the king.
How that had happened, why, I didn’t know. It certainly hadn’t been part of the marriage contract discussions months ago. But I’d seen the evidence on our arrival today. As had the others, no doubt.
At the sight of Breckon, their eyes lit up—with malicious delight, or wary caution, depending.
Everyone stood in the dining room, taking drinks, while they awaited the arrival of the royals. No one would take their seat before the king and queen, and so they hovered, chatting and gossiping, laughing quietly, and assessing each other.
Breckon knew each by name, and began a circuit of the room immediately, speaking with the booming expectation of a warm welcome. And to my surprise, received it. Mostly. While some of the older men were clearly less impressed, most of the younger, and all of the women fawned on him.
That is, until we’d made it halfway around the room, and after I’d made a somewhat ill-advised reference to horse riding while the others were flirting with their double-entendres.
That comment invited several dismissive sniffs, and more than one set of rolled eyes.
Breckon excused us a moment later and took a slow stroll across the room, leaning into my ear.
“I love a good ride as much as the next man, but you promised me a demure fiancée,” he growled.
I frowned. “I was speaking of riding horses. I attempted to turn the conversation back to something less suggestive.”
He rolled his eyes. “Come, Grace. You know better. In this circle? Remain quiet, or flirt. But for God’s sake, don’t bore them.”
He’d just turned me back toward the windows, obviously intending to wade back into the fray, but I stopped short as we almost walked directly into a tall, broad chest.
The owner of said chest had hair as black as midnight, slicked back from a high, wide brow, and startlingly intense eyes.
For half a second, my heart leaped. But the man was nearly of age with Breckon, perhaps a few years younger, yet he carried himself with a lot less pomp, and a great deal more elegance than my betrothed.
I was surprised, and genuinely pleased to see him. “Lord Hanson!” I gasped. “I didn’t know we could expect you!”
He gave a small smile, and an elegant dip of his head and shoulders to offer me respect, took the hand I offered, and a brushed a kiss to my knuckles.
“It’s wonderful to see you again, Lady Grace. I understand congratulations are in order?”
I did my best not to react, but Hanson’s gaze had always been unnervingly sharp, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my smile falter before I yanked it back up and gestured toward Breckon.
“Lord Hanson, this is my betrothed, the Lord Breckon.”
“It is, of course, a pleasure to meet you, Sir,” Hanson drawled, his smile dropping to match the flat tone indicating it was anything but.
I dearly wished I could giggle.
Breckon arched one brow and tried to look down his nose at Hanson, but Hanson was an inch taller, and carried confidence as easily as the shirt on his back, while Breckon, always confident, struck me as impressing himself on others.
“Likewise,” Breckon muttered, which bordered on rude, given that they’d just been introduced.
After two seconds of bristling silence, I was forced to babble inanities about both men to the other.
But God had mercy on me, because just as Hanson’s flattening gaze made me wonder if he was about to eviscerate Breckon, and I couldn’t decide if I would clap or not, the crier stepped through the door and announced in a sonorous baritone, “Their Majesties, the King and Queen.”
Everyone in the room turned to face the door to bow or curtsey, giving Breckon a reason to turn his back on Hanson, which suited both of them.
To my shock, I’d barely straightened from my curtsey when the queen separated from her husband—rare in itself—and swept across the carpet toward me.
“Dear Grace, I’m so glad that you weren’t too weary after your travel to join us this evening. I should like to speak with you about the wedding dress!”
Hanson bowed and after a few mannerly words, politely farewelled us, while Breckon grimaced, looking trapped. But he dutifully stayed at my side as the queen gushed about Sierral silks and handmade Draeventhall laces.
“…you must allow me to bring her to the seamstresses tomorrow, Breckon!” she insisted. “Surely, you’ll be joining Burk on his foray with the birds tomorrow?”
Burk was the first name of the king. Only the queen would use it in company. She referenced the king’s love for hunting with his birds of prey.
“Of course,” Breckon said. “I planned to ride—but I had also hoped the Lady Grace might join me. She is such a skilled rider, and we’ve had very little time—”
“Oh, there are years ahead of you for riding,” the queen said, rolling her eyes. I wondered if she intended the innuendo, or not. “When you leave the castle, send her to me. I’ll watch over her until your return.”
I watched Breckon hesitate, knowing he couldn’t protest to the queen a second time, but every fiber of his being resisted the idea of leaving me in anyone else’s hands.
“Certainly, Your Majesty,” he said, dipping his head in false modesty. “You humble us both with your attentions. Please, allow me to provide the guard to ensure you both remain safe. With so many strangers in the castle to prepare for the wedding, we can’t be too careful!”
“That won’t be necessary,” the queen fluttered.
“Oh, but I insist—as a measure of my respect for my queen, and adoration of my fiancée,” he added quickly.
The queen gave him a remarkably speaking look, but only nodded. “Of course. Thank you.”
And just like that, I was to meet the queen in the morning. Without Breckon.
I wanted to cheer. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” I added sincerely. “I will look forward to it.”
She waved away my gratitude, and launched into a tirade about how important it was that I choose silk over sateen fabric, but just a few moments later she was interrupted by the butler, murmuring that the meal was prepared. Then we were all called to the table.
I was seated between Breckon and one of the women closer to my mother in age.
The meal might have been pleasant enough, but the woman stared at me with a bitter edge in her eyes from the moment we were seated, and spent most of the meal tittering with her husband on her other side.
Breckon, seated to the king’s left, which was a huge honor, spent most of the meal chuckling with the king about hunting plans.
Each time I tried to catch the eye of the younger woman across the table from me, she sniffed and turned her head.
So, in the end, I simply ate, and sat in silence.
And the longer I did so, the more I was reminded of what a joy it had been to befriend Bren here.
She’d been a warm spot in this sky of glittering, cold jewels.
At least the food was very good.
By the time the meal drew to a close and talk began of taking drinks in the parlor, I was exhausted, but knew I could only follow Breckon and pretend to hang on his every word.
So, I allowed him to pull out my chair, then rose to my feet and took his proffered elbow, as he continued his chat with the king.
Every woman I glanced at turned away, finding a reason to speak to the others nearby, or to examine her skirts, or call for a servant.
I sighed and followed Breckon, letting my thoughts wander—until they were interrupted by the flash of something bright and urgent from Koa, who still kept her distance from the castle.
‘Grace!’
I was careful to keep my expression blank as I followed Breckon to the parlor.
‘What is it?’
‘I can feel him—the mate! He draws nearer!’
The words, so deeply wanted, so incredibly unexpected, sent my heart into my throat. I gasped, and promptly caught my toe on the carpet, pitching forward like a newborn foal who hadn’t yet learned her legs.
“Dear gods, what is—” Breckon cursed and clamped his hand down on my arm where I’d dug nails into his muscle in a fierce grip, to keep myself from actually falling.
He caught my weight, then swung me upright, holding my hand on his arm, frowning down at me as I blinked and pretended to find my balance so I could focus on Koa.
‘The mate—do you mean Kham? Or Voski? Or both?’ I sent to Koa breathlessly.
‘My mate. My male. But he will not come alone, Grace!’ She was so confident. And I so desperately wanted her to be right.