Chapter 23
I spend the day sitting down, standing up, and sitting down again in quick succession. My brow will not stop sweating, and I wring my hands just to feel like I have something to do.
Inez is patient with me, listening to my anxieties as I spew them at her in an incoherent mess.
“I did tell you the prince was smitten with you, miss,” she teases.
“Well, in hindsight, yes…I suppose it was obvious.” I give a sheepish smile as she works on my hair, pinning it in place.
As soon as I told her I was to dine alone with the prince dinner, that we were officially courting, she was all abuzz and pulled out a series of beautiful dresses. She has truly outdone herself this time—my hair is arranged in an ornate pattern, half-pinned up but with some of my dark curls falling down each side of my face. She has washed and run oils through my hair so it is sleek and shiny, catching the light when I turn.
The dress she chose is dark purple, studded with jewels and ran through with intricate lace. The bodice hugs my figure in a flattering cut, clinging to the curves of my body before flaring into a floor-length skirt. She has dusted my dark skin with a powder that makes my cheeks glow gold. I stare at my reflection, dazzled that I could look like this.
“I should like to dress this way more often.” I smile, turning my head this way and that to admire the glow of my cheekbones.
“For another dinner?”
“No, just…for no particular reason,” I say. “Other than for my enjoyment.”
“That sounds like a fine idea, miss.” Inez nods agreeably and re-adjusts one of my curls.
“And I would like you to join me.” I turn to her.
“Me?”
“You.” I grin. “I admit, the whole routine seemed farcical to me, even insulting that I should be prettied up like a package for the prince. And, I suppose, that was the king’s intention. But with you, I have realised there is a beauty to it…like a ritual, careful and peaceful, moving from each step to the next. I would like to share this with you—if you will let me?”
Inez smiles bashfully before nodding.
“That sounds lovely, miss,” she replies before stepping back. “Truthfully, I enjoy the ritual of it as well. My mother would often teach me how to dust my cheeks just so or to plait my hair into these beautiful designs. She had a magic to it…”
My ears prick at her choice of words, my au’mana humming.
“A magic?” I query gently, pretending to fiddle with the pins in my hair.
“Yes…” She smiles sadly. “Lucian had it as well, but our mother passed before she could teach him anything.”
Inez stares vacantly, and I stay quiet, allowing her to speak.
“Sometimes, she would make things glow. It was wonderful,” she recalls, with a fond look. “She wrote everything in her journal, but it was in another language, so I was never able to understand it.”
Another language? If Inez’s mother made things glow, it must be witchtongue. A wave of familiarity and kinship washes softly over me, calling my name.
“I may be able to read it,” I say, treading carefully with my words. It does not appear Inez is aware her mother and brother were witches. “I am quite good with languages.”
“Oh?” Inez’s eyes light up. “The letters are different to ours, though.”
I turn to smile at her. I think of my own mother and how I have nothing of her, besides her temperament. It must pain Inez to have something of her mother’s that she cannot understand, especially if she has no au’mana to bond them.
“That is quite alright, I am sure I can translate it for you. It is the least I could do for your kindness and friendship.”
Inez beams at me, her hands clasped in front of her mouth.
“That is most generous of you, miss.”
“Not at all, Inez.” I wave her off. “Bring me her journal, and we will go through it together. I would love to know more about your mother. What was her name?”
“Ruya,” she replies. “Her name was Ruya.”
???
When I step into the dining room, I realise it is lighter than it has ever been. A thousand candles circle the room, elevating it from its usual cavernous dimness into a well-lit chamber. The long table in the middle, usually laden with a feast, has been reduced to two sets of plates and cutlery sitting opposite each other at the head. One of them is in front of Theo. He stands up when I enter and dips his head.
“Good evening, Miss Shivani,” he greets, only a hint of the smile he reserves for me playing on his lips.
“Good evening, Your Highness.” I curtsy back. He walks around the table to draw my seat back for me, tucking it under me as I sit, before returning to his place opposite me. The candlelight flickers across his face, setting his grey eyes aglow. He leans across slightly.
“You look beautiful as ever,” he says quietly, avoiding the echo of the room.
“My thanks,” I reply, cheeks warming.
Servants bring out our dinner—a main course of thick lentil stew, flatbreads loaded with butter and garlic, and baby potatoes cooked in salt and fennel. The smell is divine, and I inhale it deeply.
“This looks amazing, Your Highness.” I gaze at the dish.
“I asked Inez to inform me of your favourites. I heard you have been teaching our kitchen staff some new recipes,” he replies with a playful glint in his eye, ladling the lentil stew and placing it on my plate. “I was hoping this evening would be most enjoyable for you.”
I suppress a shudder of glee at this show of affection. I chide myself for somehow not realising he has been doing similar things for several months. Now I know his feelings are the same as mine, I fully submerge myself in it and allow it to flow freely, rather than attempting to squeeze them in a box.
Only one thing gnaws at me—Theo, despite putting on this decadent display of his intentions, remains rigidly formal anytime we are not alone. I dip the flatbread into my stew, wondering if perhaps he is embarrassed of me. I am a commoner and a prisoner, and it is likely he is expected to marry a woman of nobility whose father has not sold her to pay off his debts.
I shake off this fear, determined to enjoy the evening. Theo holds up his goblet of wine.
“A toast,” he says. “To allies and sanctuaries.”
I clink the rim of my goblet against his, and he smiles at me warmly.
“How are your paintings coming along?” he asks before scooping a large spoonful of baby potatoes onto his plate.
“Wonderfully, Your Highness. I have decided to try my hand at still life.”
“What about your landscapes?”
“I still enjoy them, but I think it is good to start pushing into other areas.” I shrug. “It would not do to stay in a bubble of comfort forever.”
“Indeed,” Theo replies, looking thoughtful. “There is an art dealer who visits the castle on occasion, hailing from Frostalm. I should like to introduce you to him.”
My heart skips at the mention of Frostalm.
“An art dealer?” I raise my eyebrows. “Whatever for?”
“For your paintings, of course.” He laughs before taking another sip of wine. A guard coughs behind me, and Theo’s smile immediately drops. Confused, I turn around, but there are only the usual guards standing in position.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Nothing.” He half-smiles and continues eating.
The atmosphere shifts. I chew my lip, contemplating whether to bring the conversation back to the art dealer. Theo focusses on his food, eating quickly, so I decide to let the topic lie.
We eat in silence for the next few minutes before sitting back to allow our plates to be cleared.
“My thanks,” I tell the servant, and Theo does the same.
He fidgets with the collar of his tunic while I sit opposite him, awkwardly rigid. The usual ease of our conversation has evaporated.
“The hour is late,” I eventually say, the silence unbearable. I stand up from my seat, scraping the chair back. “I should head back to my chambers. Thank you for dinner, Your Highness.”
I curtsy and swiftly exit the dining room before he can say anything back. Tears well up, threatening to spill, but my irritation manages to hold them back. I hike up the skirt of my dress to walk quickly back to my chambers, feeling ridiculous in my frivolous outfit.
“Wait!” Theo calls behind me. I hesitate, half-turning, before deciding against it and powering on. “Shivani, please. Wait.”
He eventually catches up to me, slightly out of breath.
“Yes?” I snap, turning on my heel to glare at him.
“I…I am sorry for the way the evening went.”
“You should be sorry. You are the one who caused it.” I ball my hands into fists, my vision starting to swim with tears. “I do not deserve to be treated like…well, I do not know. A secret? An embarrassment?”
“You are not an embarrassment,” he says firmly, reaching for my hand, but I snatch it away.
“Sweet words are meaningless when you act in total contradiction to them.”
“I know, I…I am sorry.” He glances over his shoulder, eyes wide, before turning back to me. “Please allow me to visit your chambers tonight.”
“Really?” I scoff. “Absolutely not.”
“Just so I can explain myself and…” he reaches out his hand, palm up. “Apologise properly.”
I look at his open hand, an invitation for me, and sigh. I drum up every well of trust I have in him and put my hand in his.
“Fine,” I say quietly. Theo’s shoulders sag with relief before he brings my hand up to kiss it.
“Thank you, Shivani,” he says.
I say nothing and turn, stalking back to my chambers and leaving him in the corridor.