Crowned In Enmity

Chapter 9

This dress is suffocating—its weight is a constant reminder of the expectations I bear. The jewels, sharp and unforgiving, seem intent on piercing through my skin, as if punishing me for daring to wear them. But I push the discomfort aside and plaster a smile on my face, moving mechanically from one suitor to the next as they spin me around the dance floor. Each one makes pointless small talk, their words laced with desperation as they vie for a marriage that would elevate their status.

"We deeply appreciate your intervention at Dunhearth," Prince River says, guiding me into a graceful spin before pulling me close once more. His expression tightens momentarily, the flicker of frustration barely concealed. "My father... he's become an embarrassment to the throne."

"It was no trouble," I reply, my voice calm and measured, "The Realm's victory over Keld is what truly matters. The people needed to see that unity could prevail."

River's eyes darken with something that feels like regret, though he masks it with a wry smile. "My brother, Reed, will be a far better king. The enhancements are wasted on our father. Reed, though... he knows how to harness innovation. Under his rule, Beckton will rise to power once more."

"Beckton is already a cornerstone of The Realm," I assure him, "The hydrodam and your education system are invaluable contributions."

River's smile falters, his voice lowering. "Thank you, but we both know the truth. Beckton's advancements have been stagnating for years. Marrying for love rather than power has its consequences," he mutters, the bitterness seeping through. Then, with a quick shake of his head, he attempts to dismiss his own words, offering a rueful grin. "I'm sorry, I've started ranting again, haven't I? My mother always teases that my personal enhancement is an inability to know when to stop talking."

"I don't mind," I say softly, encouraging him to continue. "It's refreshing not to be the one talking for a change."

He chuckles, but there's a hint of sadness in his eyes. "I just wanted to extend my gratitude for what you did at Dunhearth. Your skills were nothing short of remarkable."

He twirls me once more, and as I come back into his arms, my gaze strays to the refreshment table. My chest tightens involuntarily when I see Kaladin there, his eyes locked onto mine with a cold intensity. River's voice pulls me back, though the weight of Kaladin's stare lingers like a shadow over my heart.

"And," River adds, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone, "You're even more stunning in person."

A flush of warmth spreads across my cheeks, but it's not River's compliment that stirs me—it's the jealousy I had seen etched into Kaladin's face. My response is automatic, a whispered, "Thank you," that barely reaches my own ears.

River's smile brightens, oblivious to the tension that has coiled inside me. As the music comes to a close, he lingers, holding onto the moment. "I enjoyed our dance," he says, lifting my hand to his lips for a chaste kiss. "If you ever need someone to listen so you don't have to speak, you know where to find me."

He winks playfully before releasing my hand, but the lightheartedness of the moment is shattered as soon as he steps away. Before I have the chance to catch my breath, Duke Edmund of Marren, of Tenby, swoops in like a vulture, his hands possessive as they land on my waist.

He doesn't wait for the music to start. Leaning in too close, his voice dripping with condescension, he smirks and asks, "What do you want in a husband, Your Grace? Surely, you must be weary of doing a man's work all the time."

His arrogance is as stifling as this gown. If Margrot still practiced political executions, I would find a way to ensure his name was on the list.

Duke Edmund is nearly a decade older than I. His nose, bulbous and pig-like, seems to dominate his round, doughy face—a face that's clearly indulged in far too many pastry cakes over the years. His eyes, small and beady, struggle to meet mine, barely reaching my chin even as I stand a modest five feet eight in heels.