Chapter 3 #2
While Hart didn’t seem to acknowledge the woman’s perusal, every second I noticed it felt like insects crawled across my skin. This had to be the princess. Hart might be a liar, but he was also a prince—he should be a king. She was who he ended up with. Not a jeweler.
I don’t want him. I’d repeat the refrain to myself as many times as necessary. Eventually, my stubborn mind would comprehend.
Hart’s brow arched as he stared only at me. I wasn’t even sure he’d glanced at the princess yet. His jaw worked, like I’d asked him a riddle to which he didn’t know the answer, but he intended to solve it with his next guess.
The awkward silence as the princess waited for Hart’s acknowledgment was too much for me. I elbowed him.
He shook his head and finally noticed the woman with the queen. “Ah, Blair, my apologies. Nice to see you.”
His response was perfectly polite. Still, for some inexplicable reason, I hated it.
“This is Emberline Arkova.” He touched my lower back again, and that infernal flare of heat shot up my spine. “Emberline, this is Blair Hawthorn, Princess of Linia.”
The queen patted the woman’s hand, then commented dryly, “I’m glad to see he hasn’t lost his manners in all his time ignoring his responsibility to his kingdom.”
As I caught Lucinda’s profile beside Blair’s, the family resemblance was unmistakable. They both had the same blue eyes, the same aquiline nose, the same hint of a dimple that said they were up to something.
With little fanfare, the queen led us through the double doors of the castle. She turned again to the princess. “Darling, could you see them to the guest suite with the balcony?”
Blair dipped her chin as Lucinda disappeared down another hallway.
An attendant rushed forward to offer her aid.
I guessed seeing travelers to a suite wasn’t precisely the job of a princess, but Blair didn’t appear to mind.
She waved away the attendant and led us through the castle’s otherwise empty corridors.
Glanmore Castle had felt large and imposing during my short stay. It had brimmed with Blessed when I’d been there. This castle felt the opposite. The hallways were open and airy; the light stone made it feel like a spacious home in the country rather than the kingdom’s seat of power.
“Have you been to Linia before, Emberline?” Blair asked.
“I have not, but I’ve always wanted to visit.”
She smiled at that, but gooseflesh pebbled my skin at her catlike grin. “Not many from Kavios have such an interest.”
I felt Hart’s gaze on me as I pondered a response.
King Rodric used adamas gems to steal his citizens’ sadness.
He used the magic it granted to lull the populace into a false sense of calm.
The noticeable side effect was that many felt no need or interest to think about anything outside the kingdom.
Blair’s comment hinted at that truth, but I was unsure what the royal family of Linia knew about such things.
Hart’s hand flexed as if he might dare to reach for my lower back again. An idiotic part of me wanted the steady reassurance.
No. I clenched my teeth. I didn’t. If he saw me only as a means to an end, I would see him as the same. He may be better suited to navigating the royal family, given his true lineage, but I was intelligent and capable. Alaric had spent years using my questions to teach me how to think.
“My uncle taught me to value knowledge.” My throat tightened with the mention of Alaric, but I continued. “Linia always seemed the kingdom most representative of that view.”
“He sounds like a smart man,” Blair said.
I fought a flinch as the image of his body hitting the throne room wall crashed into my thoughts without warning. The snap, the crack that had changed everything, echoed loudly in my head.
“He was,” I responded quietly.
We arrived at a pair of wooden double doors, and Blair stopped. “This is it. Mother said you’d have a full day at the library tomorrow.”
I had so many questions about the library—about how we’d find the information—but unfortunately, Hart had all the answers I needed. Asking the princess would only draw unwanted attention to my place here.
Our little ruse also ensured that Hart would remain at my side while we researched. Goddess, I just needed some space.
“Thank you.” I dipped my chin and reached to open the door. Hart moved first, and I couldn’t quite tell if he opened it for me to be polite or if he expected an ambush upon entrance.
Blair studied the interaction with raised brows before retreating. I allowed Hart a moment before I followed him into the room. Any hope of distance disappeared with the snick of the door as it closed behind me.
Hart stood in the center of the most opulent room I’d ever seen.
The rich browns and golds that colored the walls and furniture felt so different from Alaric’s room in Glanmore Castle.
The space had a dining table, a settee, and a few cushioned chairs.
A single door branched from the space, and though I could see the promised balcony, my insides squirmed at the realization.
The grimace on Hart’s face told me he’d already been through the room, and I wouldn’t be happy with what I found.
If there was one thing I learned from Kavios, it was how to act unaffected. Unfortunately, Hart always saw through my disguise.
I couldn’t focus on that now.
With my head held high, I walked into the bedroom.
The wooden desk, bureau, and accompanying washroom were just as lavishly decorated as the room we’d entered through.
I attempted to focus on the balcony. But, as much as I tried to avoid it, my glance lingered on the single four-poster bed draped with gold curtains.
It figured.
This new setback certainly wouldn’t be what broke me. I’d survived becoming Jeweler to the Blessed. I’d survived the attempts of the Feared to kill me. I’d survived Themis’s attempts to do the same.
I swallowed thickly as the losses became more personal. I’d survived learning my parents lied to me for my entire life. I’d survived knowing Alaric had, too.
Something prickled behind my eyes as I mentally finished the list. I’d survived losing Alaric.
The snap of his neck as it hit the throne room wall echoed in my thoughts again. This time, in the safety of my room, I flinched.
“Ember, I’ll—”
I pushed back my shoulders in another unaffected charade, wondering how much Hart had seen. Revealing any of my emotions to him was too much. He no longer deserved them.
“It doesn’t matter, Hart.” I pushed back the tears threatening to break free. Pushed down the overwhelming, unending ocean of loss, the depths of isolation … of hurt.
“Ember—” The concern in his voice was too much. I hated that he still used my family name as much as I hated the idea of him calling me Emberline. I couldn’t look at him. He had always seen too much.
“I’m fine,” I said, and ignored the pain as I walked to the balcony.