Chapter 5
Chapter five
Zara
Ican’t do this. Not yet.
My chest heaves and my palms are slick with sweat. I violently shake my hands at my sides, as if that will somehow force the anxiety from my body. I swallow but my throat is too dry. I might as well be swallowing shards of glass.
I take a deep breath. It’s going to be fine. This has always been the plan. It’s my duty.
I tiptoe to the entrance of the throne room, the golden skirts of my gown shimmering beneath the candlelit wall sconces.
The fabric makes a swooshing sound against my legs as I near the doorway and I poke my head around, not quite ready for the Herald to announce my presence before I make my grand entrance. My chest tightens.
The throne room is prepped for the forfeiture of my freedom.
Five dozen tables are covered in brilliant rose gold cloths, set with delicate crystal plates and silver utensils, each adorned with a lush floral tower of the same tulips and peonies that decorate the palace grounds.
At the head of the space, a long rectangular table is lined with floral garlands from end to end over exquisite silk tablecloths, and three large crimson and gold banners adorned with my father’s wolf-headed crest hang above, representing ‘The Court of Wolves’, or so it’s been called.
More like being thrown to the wolves.
My father and Elara relax in golden thrones in the center of the rectangular table, an empty seat to the king’s right and two empty seats to the queen consort’s left.
I assume one is for me and the others for the King of Lanray and his son, Prince Leer, who currently stand across the table greeting their hosts.
I can only see their backs, but they’re dressed in their court’s colors of deep violet and black.
My father wears his golden dinner coat that he only dons for events to impress other Royals, and his golden crown rests on top of his silver hair.
He taps his foot to the beat of the music and Elara, dressed in a scandalously low-cut green gown, looks bored, tapping her long nails on the table.
Courtiers float amidst the tables and over the dance floor, all flirting and twirling and drinking.
They sway to a soft waltz ringing through the air from the string quartet playing in the far back corner.
Enjoying the court life of endless parties and decadent feasts.
The light from the chandelier is dimmed to perfection and beautiful hues of opal shimmer upon the walls from its glow.
I can’t help but smile when I see Emlyn dancing happily with a young courtier. Her smile lights up the room and her eyes glitter like starlight, exuberant and carefree. She loves these events. Then again, she isn’t the one who’s about to meet her future husband in mere moments.
I look on the scene with dread. I know what stepping over the threshold will mean for me. A loss of freedom, forced maturity, and being forced to leave the only home I’ve ever known. All to marry some stuffy prince I’ve never met.
I draw in a shallow breath, panic gripping me by the throat. My stomach clenches against the butterflies in my gut. I place one hand on the wall to steady myself and the other on my stomach to keep from retching onto the red carpet.
“Are you ready, Princess?”
I glance over my shoulder and nod to Alix.
He’s in his best dress uniform: a gold tunic paired with black pants that have Masseda's royal colors lining the seams along the sides of his legs.
Even his breast plate is fancier, with more engraved detail and shine than the one he wears daily.
His thick black hair is combed back, and his square jaw is freshly shaven. He cleans up nice.
I tightly clutch my waist. Perhaps the pressure will somehow hold back the rising bile in my throat. “Can I have just a minute?”
He smiles, but there’s a hint of concern in his bright blue eyes. “Sure. I’ll go and let the Herald know you’re here. I’ll be back in five.”
“Can’t wait,” I say sardonically, and he rounds the corner into the throne room. I shake my head, my lips quivering around a ragged breath. I ball the fabric of my skirts into my fists and pace in tight circles in the small foyer before the throne room door.
“Tough crowd?” A smooth voice comes from behind me.
I spin around, my hands still clinging to my skirts, and lock eyes with a tall and swoon-worthy courtier.
I don’t recognize him, though, and I furrow my brow.
Nope. I’m certain we’ve never met. I would definitely remember those stunning ice-blue eyes and that small dimple creasing his left cheek.
The sharp angle of his jawline could cut through diamonds, but his expression is soft and carefree, his full lips curling up into a deviously sexy smirk.
His thick chocolate hair is perfectly styled, yet everything about his demeanor seems effortless.
As if perfection is simply…him. The stranger cocks his head to the side, seemingly awaiting a response from me.
“I—um, yes, I guess you could say that.” I stutter and my twitchy hands fall to my sides, instantly relaxed as I gaze at his beautiful face. I smile shyly. “Have we met?”
He grins, lighting up the room like the afternoon sun. “Do you use that line on all the males?”
Heat floods my cheeks. “I just haven’t seen you at court before. Are you visiting with the royal family from Lanray?” Part of me expects him to drop into a bow at any second when he realizes who I am. But he doesn’t, and relief sweeps over me.
His laughter warms me like a cup of hot tea on a rainy day and sends a shiver of delight down my spine. “I was kidding. And no, I don’t think we’ve met before.” He runs a hand through his thick brown hair and the blue of his irises glitter in the dim firelight.
I can’t tear my gaze from his and I inch closer with a sudden urge to be as near to him as physically possible. I open my mouth to introduce myself, but he leans in and looks over my shoulder into the throne room. He smells of cedar and freshly fallen rain.
“So, who are you trying to avoid in there?” He stands a little taller, adjusting his deep red velvet dinner coat.
My gaze follows the smooth motion of his hand as it tenderly brushes along the lapel of his jacket, and I imagine his hand tracing along my collarbone then travelling down to my navel.
I swallow down the indecent thought. “Honestly? Everyone.” I laugh awkwardly but his expression is anything but amused.
I shrug, “I’m meeting my betrothed tonight. ”
A knowing look flashes in his eyes, and he jerks his chin toward the party. “Ah. And who exactly might that lucky male be?”
My cheeks are hot again and I tuck a long blonde hair behind my ear.
I move closer to the threshold and my shoulder brushes his as I point to the long table where my father sits.
“Do you see the two males standing across from the King? The taller one is King Hardin of Lanray and the other…the one with the golden hair, I suspect, is the Crown Prince.”
The courtier steps back. “I see. The Crown Prince of Lanray? I thought he had dark hair and was much taller and far more attractive than that male.”
I wait for him to finally realize who I am, but he still says nothing, and I don’t point it out.
Instead, I clear my throat, stepping away from the doorway.
He follows my lead and stares at me, seemingly toiling over something.
His gaze locks with mine, and the tension in my gut melts away.
I want to lose myself in those eyes for the rest of the night.
He glances into the throne room again and presses his mouth into a straight line. “I can see why you’re nervous. This supposed prince looks incredibly uptight. Pretentious even.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You can’t even see his face.”
“Hmm, that’s true. But I know the type. I hear he’s a total prick.
” He turns toward me again, liquefying me with heated desire radiating from those blue irises.
“Should we make a run for it?” His eyes glisten with a playful wickedness, the kind of wickedness I would love to get to know a little more intimately.
I smile and gaze up into his face, an invisible connection between us threatening to pull me into him, making me want to skip formal introductions and press my lips against his. His energy is intoxicating and every cell in my body ignites in reaction to the wave of pure bliss rushing over me.
I blink away the feeling and as I’m about to introduce myself, Alix strides over to us. He eyes the courtier with suspicion. “It’s time to go in,” He says to me, never taking his eyes off of the strange male.
“Perhaps I’ll see you inside.” The handsome stranger takes my hand in his and gently kisses it. My breath catches in my throat and my knees shake as if they might just buckle beneath me. I nod sheepishly and he winks at me before stepping into the throne room.
I stare as he moves through the crowded room, adjusting his red velvet coat again with a quick tug. I chew on my lower lip. Who is that?
“Who was that?” Alix narrows his eyes at me then shakes his head. “Come on, the king and queen are waiting.”
“Elara is not the queen.” My lip curls in disgust. My father will never name her as Queen. “Not while I’m still around, anyway.”
He rolls his eyes. “Fine. The king and his consort are waiting. Let’s go.” He quickly ushers me to the doorway as the Herald announces my presence from inside the room.
I roll my shoulders back and stand up as straight as physically possible.
Alix offers his arm to me, and I rest my hand on it, taking a step toward the threshold.
Every ounce of my earlier anxiety comes rushing back.
The room suddenly feels…hot. Too hot. My bodice is too tight. It’s impossible to breathe.
I pause in the doorway, my feet heavy like hardened clay. I can’t. I can’t be here. I can’t do this. My vision blurs as I stare out into the crowd who has gone silent. The weight of hundreds of eyes focused in my direction is crushing. They’re all watching. Waiting.
I can’t stand it.
My heart pounds in my chest and my throat feels like sandpaper.
Alix says something to me, but I can’t hear him.
Everything spins around me. Blurring into a stream of colors moving at warp speed in front of my eyes.
My dress grows more constricting by the second, squeezing my life, my freedom, from me.
Confining me to this moment. To a future I don’t want. I fan my face. Gulp for air.
I need to get out.
I take a step back. My hand falls from Alix’s arm and I gather my skirts in fistfuls at my sides.
“Zara?” His eyes go wide, and he stretches his hand out to me. He nods, “Let’s go.”
“I’m—I can’t.” I lift the skirts of my gown and turn my back to him, racing in the opposite direction.
“No…No, no, no! You’re not doing this to me again. Dammit, Zara!”
Sheer panic, or perhaps it’s irritation, drips from his voice as he calls after me. But I keep running. I can’t go back. I can’t go in there. I can’t accept my fate as a bride or a queen or as a tool for peace among kingdoms. Not tonight.
I quicken my pace, wondering if Alix is chasing after me. I hope he isn’t. I hope he’ll finally realize he can’t reel me in. Chasing after me and forcing me to return won’t magically transform me into the well-behaved princess they all want me to be.
Heavy footsteps slam against the hard tile as he runs after me and his voice strains as it echoes around the massive columns lining the halls.
I run faster and swiftly turn a corner, flattening my body against the wall and into the shadows.
I squeeze my eyes shut and hold my breath until I hear Alix pass by and continue down the corridor.
I peek around the corner and when I’m in the clear, I head back the way I came, escaping out into the courtyard.
I duck into an alcove near the palace gates and consider slipping into the hidden tunnel system beneath the castle, but he’d find me.
I edge further into the darkness of the alcove.
My chest heaves and I hunch over with my hands on my knees trying to catch my breath.
“Zara?”
My head jerks up and I freeze, backing toward the tunnel entrance in the shadows of the alcove.
“Zara, are you out here?” Emlyn calls out in a whispered shout.
I poke my head around the brown stone archway I’m hiding behind. “Emlyn!”
She stops in her tracks and squints her eyes trying to see through the darkness of the night.
She pads over and ducks into the alcove with me.
“What are you doing? I thought your father and Elara were going to lose their damn minds when you ran away from the throne room.” She crosses her arms tightly over her chest, pursing her lips.
“I was only joking when I told you to skip the party.”
I wince and bite my lip. My father saw me. I wonder if my future husband witnessed my exit too. Of course he did. Everyone in the throne room saw me run away like a threatened animal. “I can’t do it, Emlyn. I don’t want to get married, especially to someone I’ve never met.”
“I know.” She wraps her arm around my waist and rests her head on my shoulder. “Your father is going to be furious with you. Think of his embarrassment. And poor Alix—you do this to him all the time.”
“I panicked.” I chew ferociously on my thumb nail.
She simply nods, bless her. She sighs, “I suppose since we’re already in trouble, we could continue to skirt our responsibilities and go into town for some non-courtly fun.”
I flash her an impish smile. “I’ll grab my cloak.”
She holds up a large leather pouch, patting it on its side. “Way ahead of you.”