Chapter 3
Three
The carriage rolled to a stop on the stone drive, and the driver hopped down to open the door as a stable hand ran to retrieve the horses.
Lady Arabella of Fellsrin and her sister, Lady Alanna, home from an afternoon out, stepped out of the carriage, each taking the offered hand of the driver on their way down.
The evensong of birds and bugs filled the late summer night, occasional flashes of fireflies punctuating the dimness. The women laughed as they approached the house, their hair unraveling and their cheeks pink after a full day in the heat.
Dusk had begun to settle over Lesseine, and the creeping shadows offered more freedom.
Clothed in the plain gray dress of a maid with her hair pinned back in a low bun, Jade watched from a crack in the wall concealing the staff entrance as the women disappeared inside.
She whirled on her heel and departed the shadows of the alcove.
In the yard outside the staff entrance, she dipped below laundry lines with drying clothes and dodged stacks of crates on her way to the door.
Keeping her head low, Jade opened the door without hesitation, as though she was exactly where she was supposed to be. The event tonight not only kept all the workers thoroughly occupied, but it also allowed a greater chance for her to blend in, as more than the usual staff of Lesseine was present.
From a supply room just inside the door, Jade grabbed a duster and a cloth, then she passed through the staff area downstairs, keeping her pace quick. The space bustled with so much activity as the staff prepared dinner that no one seemed to notice she didn’t belong.
She glided up a flight of stairs and hung a right to head to the family’s suites.
The girls would be changing and preparing for the evening meal.
Doors lined the wide hallway on either side, with rich oil portraits of various family members hung between.
Jade’s eyes snagged on one of the king with his late wife and son.
What had happened to the queen and prince was tragic, whether it was a true accident or a plot by magic-wielders to end the king’s line.
The young prince Artis, likely around age five or six in the painting, smiled in a way that matched his mother, while the king stood serenely with a hand on his son’s shoulder.
A low male voice sounded to Jade’s left, coming from the general direction of the prince’s rooms and propelling her forward.
She immediately recognized it as that of Prince Reynauld, Arabella and Alanna’s father and heir to the throne of Marran as the king’s brother. The one Jade was duty-bound to protect.
Jade flashed her eyes around the hallway and found no one present.
The voice faded as she crept through the manor and came to the narrower corridors of the suites, the slippers of the maid’s uniform nearly silent on the padded carpet.
The floorplan of Lesseine was burned into her brain.
Finding her way through was as easy as traveling through her home military base of Ivanelli.
Rounding another corner, Jade heard muffled female voices coming from up ahead, and she counted three doors down on the right. The door to the sitting room that connected Arabella’s and Alanna’s chambers.
Based on the volume of the chatter, the sisters were in the first room she passed—Alanna’s bedroom—so Jade should have no trouble slipping into the sitting room undetected. Her hand met the round golden knob, and she turned it, pushing the heavy white door open into the dimly lit space.
A fireplace sat cold on the wall opposite her in between two tall windows.
She passed a low coffee table in the middle of two pale pink sofas that faced each other and glanced out of one of the windows.
The sun had fallen behind low-hanging clouds, and the pinky-purple twilight lingering on the western horizon would soon fade into darkness.
Her pickup was in thirty minutes, right before the dinner guests would arrive. She had to hurry.
A door stood slightly ajar to Jade’s right. She tucked stray hairs into her bun and straightened her shoulders before sauntering into the next room.
Alanna’s dressing room was markedly less pristine than the sitting room while still clean and extravagant.
The wardrobe door hung open with dresses draped over it.
A silk chemise had nearly fallen from the seat of a chair, and the vanity top was covered in pins, ribbons, ties, brushes, and cosmetics.
An open jewelry box sat alone on another small table beside a tall chest of drawers, the gemstones sparkling in the light of the electric lamps situated around the room.
The Fellsrin sisters spoke with enthusiasm in the room beyond another open door as paper crinkled, no doubt going through their purchases from earlier that day.
Jade grabbed the chemise out of the chair and flung it over her arm, a guise of tidying the room ready in case the ladies entered faster than she anticipated.
She fit herself between the door and chair, remaining silent and out of sight, unable to peer into the room.
About ten minutes were all she’d be granted before the sisters’ ladies’ maids showed up to help them dress for dinner.
“That color is stunning on you, Bella. It brings out the hints of gold in your eyes.” Alanna’s airy voice floated out the door.
A low chuckle followed, and Jade recognized Arabella’s deeper tone. “Fit for a queen, don’t you think?”
“You absolutely must wear it to the ball.”
Ah, yes. The Duke of Evenshold was holding a masquerade ball the upcoming weekend as a birthday celebration for his oldest daughter, Marguerite.
Nobility from all over their kingdom had been invited to attend as a show of goodwill, a message to the world that the duke, Lord Grannam, would be a venerable ruler, if not a lavish one.
Even though Grannam and Arabella were at odds, both vying for the throne in place of Prince Reynauld, Arabella was not expected to miss her cousin’s birthday ball.
It seemed odd for Arabella to willfully insert herself in a situation with people who were obstinately opposed to her.
But then again, Jade never considered those born into royalty to possess an abundance of common sense.
She couldn’t discount their ego and guile, however.
This particular combination led to a deceivingly beautiful veneer covering violent intentions.
Plus, one never missed a ball.
Paper and fabrics rustled with the pause in conversation. Finally, Arabella replied, “I was thinking this one, actually. The maroon makes quite a statement.”
“Want to try it?”
Arabella gave no audible answer, but Jade heard movement and the swish of rich fabrics. A few moments later, the noises hushed and Alanna spoke again.
“You’re right. It is so dramatic.”
“I think it’s the perfect dress for the ball. It is bound to draw attention, and it’s regal enough to give everyone the impression of true Marrani royalty.” A smug satisfaction laced Arabella’s voice, and Jade was almost certain she was smiling.
“Yes, I think so,” Alanna agreed, “but I still like the gold better. You would shine like the very crown that would mark you as queen.”
Jade’s hands clenched into fists involuntarily.
She couldn’t stand the aristocracy. These people were all fake, shallow, and pretentious.
They cared more about their own appearance to others and sense of power than anything else.
Duplicity must have been a requirement, smiling to someone’s face while ready to stab them in the back.
Like Jade’s own grandparents had done to her father and mother.
Had they not, would she have lived a life similar to Arabella and Alanna, caring for nothing more than trying on dresses and preparing for parties? Jade relaxed her hands. She’d been spared this life, at least.
The confidence in Arabella’s next words again captured Jade’s attention. “That’s why I think the gold will be more suitable for a coronation.”
Jade’s eyes darted between the door to the sitting room, the dressing room’s window, and the doorway beside her, keeping close watch for anyone approaching as well as noting the growing darkness outside.
Alanna took longer than she expected to speak, and Jade didn’t miss the hesitancy in her voice when she found her words.
“But . . . that’s still quite far off, isn’t it?”
The movement in the room beyond stilled.
“Perhaps.” Arabella didn’t miss a beat. “But I like to be prepared. If everything goes well this weekend, it might be sooner than we think.”
Something in Arabella’s tone sounded an alarm in Jade’s head. The assurance in it blew new life into Jade’s perception of the current landscape. What was happening this weekend?
Of all the people vying for the throne, Arabella had one of the strongest claims. The succession fell to King Mervyn’s brother, Prince Reynauld Fellsrin, but Arabella had made a case for herself as the heir and next ruler of Marran, citing her father’s limited remaining years and quicker decline of mental capacity.
Why shouldn’t the throne pass directly to her, the more capable ruler who would come into sovereignty eventually, anyway?
Not to mention, she opposed her father’s stance to uphold the law that executed all magic-wielders upon discovery.
No one had suggested such a thing since the law was enacted over fifty years before.
The controversy surrounding her was enough to earn her notice as a possible successor to King Mervyn.
“I imagine Lord Grannam is going to be there, considering it’s his daughter’s party at his own home,” Alanna said after a pause, their movement resuming. Something in the way she spoke made Jade think Alanna wanted to change the subject.
“Yes, I imagine he will.”
“And it won’t be a problem?” Alanna asked pointedly.