Queen Of Glass

Book 2 Chapter 21

Dorian DeHavilliard looked down at the parchment in his hands, then back at the page, incredulous. "Is this a joke?"
The page, a young man no older than fourteen, shook his blond head, shaking slightly. "Her majesty ordered for a copy to be sent to you, your highness."
"Is she mad?"
The page stared at the Crown Prince, not daring to reply. Dorian looked at the decree once again and waved the page off, closing the doors to his chambers behind him. He ran a hand through his hair as he entered his private study, dodging piles of books before he sat down in his favorite, worn, red velvet armchair. He closed his eyes, wishing that when he opened them, the yellow parchment would be blank, and let out a long breath.
He sat up, clutching the paper in both hands, and stared at it again. It was written in the swirly, curly, elegant hand of one of the palace's many Chief Secretaries, and Dorian read through the declaration once more.
"It is our esteemed pleasure to announce and remind the great Continent of Adarlan that, on the night of—"
Dorian skipped the few lines regarding the time and date.
"We are to have a Royal Ball, in honor of both our country's marvelous history, as well as to celebrate the beginning of the summer season! Every unmarried lady (if not a member of Renaril's court, certificate and documents of nobility are required) under the age of twenty-nine is to attend; and at the stroke of midnight, it will be our great pleasure to inform you of the Crown Prince Dorian DeHavilliard's engagement to the lady of his choice.
"Invitations are required, and confirmation of attendance will be accepted until—"
Dorian ripped the paper in two, then in four, then in eight, and then into so many pieces that he had to brush them off of his lap and onto the stone floor. His heart was pounding so quickly that he had to clutch the armrests for support. His breath came out in hot puffs of air as the room's temperature dropped significantly.
Had his parents gone insane? This had to be his mother's idea.
No. It had to have been her idea, but my father's elaboration. I know that this is—I know exactly what this is.
Dorian felt nauseated, and as he stared down at the shreds on the floor, the room warmed and his grip on the wood lessened.
This is a last attempt to control me. This is a test—if I refuse to do this, my father will...He will...

Dorian was struck by a thought so horrifying that he fought to keep his lunch down.
Gods above, he knows.
He felt trapped, like his room was suddenly too small, like someone was waiting outside for him, like the whole world was suddenly a glistening orb far away and he had to escape from this castle in order to reach it.
He's going to hang me and Tiryn and Aedion. He knows everything. Roland began it—Roland began to spy on me, and now he's got spies everywhere. Maybe Tiryn is a spy. Maybe Aedion is a spy.
Dorian tried to stand, but his legs were too weak. He fervently wished that he hadn't sent Chaol away. His friend would know what to do, he'd tell Dorian to remain calm, he'd keep him safe from any assailants.
There was a knock on the door, and Dorian almost fell out of his chair. He turned, still unable to rise, and let out a sigh of relief as another page entered the room, his small chest puffing out to display the gold and crimson emblem of Adarlan.
"Your highness," the boy said loudly, bowing so low that his feathered cap threatened to fall from his head. Dorian, despite his situation, suppressed a smile. The page was about ten years old, and was probably very, very new to the job.
"Yes?" the prince replied, watching as the boy fished out a piece of paper from his leather satchel.
The boy cleared his throat, unrolled the paper, and smiled. "Her majesty, the Queen of Adarlan," the boy smiled wider, "wishes to have dinner with you tonight in her chambers, at seven o'clock."
Relief rushed into Dorian like a runaway horse. So he wasn't about to be hung for treason. In fact, if his father was allowing his mother to dine with him, then perhaps...
It's either another test or maybe I'm just...wrong. "She wishes to know your reply immediately."
Dorian leaned back in his chair. He was playing a risky game—too risky—and he was about to lose. He had to be smart, he had to make it seem like nothing was wrong...
"Tell her majesty that I will join her tonight, and tell the florist to send her four dozen of the best spring flowers in his collection."
The boy bowed. "Your highness," he said, nodding his farewell, and then left the room.
If he began to act like he was supposed to, if he began to pretend, then it would only help him, not hinder him.
Yes, hiding in your rooms and only speaking to Tiryn and Aedion is the stupidest thing you could have done. Contact some of your old friends, contact Bennau and Garold—invite them to go hunting, to race...You're being a fool, Dorian DeHavilliard! Try to act normal...
Dorian stood up. If he acted normal, his father's suspicions would lessen. If he acted normal, he could use it as evidence for when the time came. If he acted normal, did what he was supposed to do, then maybe, just maybe, the path towards rebellion would not be so difficult.
He looked at the destroyed decree and frowned. How was he going to get around this? How was he going to get engaged to a woman, a stranger, when Celaena was a continent away? Would that be accepted? Could he do that?
Dorian stood up, grabbing his sword from where it hung on his bedpost, and left his chambers in desperate need of some release, wondering just now much being 'normal' would cost him.
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