The Summer Palace [Fantasy romance/enemies to lovers/new adult]

Chapter Six

"A drink?" Levaya asks. For some reason I think she's talking to me, until I turn and realise she's looking to Prince Obryas.

The prince, however, is looking to me. He seems to notice my slight misunderstanding and says, unfortunately, "by all means, please join us Miss Fletchley."

It's the last thing I want him to say.

With my allegiance now magically bound to him in a last-ditch attempt to carve out my own future, it would be wise to spend as little time with his grace as possible before we arrive at the palace.

At this very moment, as ridiculous as it sounds against a member of the Terian royal family, I have the upper hand. He thinks me Emmeline, not Corina, and I plan to keep the ruse until it has to be uncovered. I have no doubts that I will be unmasked once we arrive at the palace, but all the better to keep the prince in the dark until then. I have taken the vow, but like all contracts - magical or otherwise - its words might be twisted. Upon finding out my true identity, I've no doubt that Obryas will be furious as to have been lied to. If he's to search for any loopholes in our binding I'd rather he set his mind to it once I'm back in the confines of the palace, where the politics of it are a little more muddied. I'm a member of the nobility after all, and though I've diverted to a foreign court, it shouldn't sit well with Novelon if anything untoward is to happen to me while I'm under their hospitality.

Thankfully, I swore only to be loyal and discreet in my vow. I said nothing for honesty.

"I'd be honoured, your grace," I say, furious with myself to have been entrapped in this situation. I can hardly refuse, can I?

"Indeed," Obryas smiles, and my stomach knots, imagining the way he might look at me once my deception comes to light. It's a harrowing thought.

I'm led to a separate tent, a long table at its centre. Candelabras are lit along it, placed amongst bowls of berries, olives, crisp breads, and an array of coloured dips that I don't recognise. There are also twisted carafes of different wines; pale, red, rose and sparkling. Everything has been laid onto a deep blue runner which stretches along the table, it's edges glinting with gold thread.

I once again find myself in awe at the amount of inane furniture and furnishings that has been brought across the sea. I know for a fact that an often empty wing of the Ellaven Palace has been prettied up and left aside for the royal Terian party, and that none of these tents will be required once they arrive in the capital.

People are gathering around the table and pulling up chairs. In the prince's presence I feel uncomfortable picking a chair and sitting in it of my own accord - it seems at too much a dissonance from every piece of royal etiquette I've ever learned.

Noticing my unease, Levaya waves to me from where she sits and pats the spot next to her. I flash her a grateful smile and take my seat, still too wary to help myself to something to eat or drink as those around me pour wine and pick at snacks.

Prince Obryas, of course, sits himself at the head of the table.

"Please, Miss Fletchley, help yourself," he says, and so then it feels rude if I do not.

I pour a sparking, pale pink wine into a flute, and sip at it. I picked it from its similarity to what I often drink at the palace, but when I taste it it's much sweeter. It's delicious, and I hold my tongue from asking what, exactly, it is.

My flimsy plan to get through this evening is to speak as little as I can get away with, and excuse myself as soon as it seems reasonable to do so. My drinking wine is probably not at all sensible, but part of me is hoping that it will calm my nerves. Make my conversation more fluid, perhaps. I'm also aware that it might cause me to slip something incriminating about who I truly am, and so I place the glass back onto the table and vow to return to it some time later.