All's Fair in Revenge

Chapter 20: To Dance

With Nathara primed to pass out or die, Liv and I used the lull in the confessional to observe Castle Moer and its inhabitants, all of which had spent the night watching us. Painted lips whispered secrets above sloshing wine. Coin passed hands. And one Black woman, no older than myself and dressed in icy Eioran blues and sparkling whites, smirked whenever I caught her eye as though she kept a secret she was dying to tell me. Given all the secrets Nathara had splattered, I wasn't sure I wanted to know any more.

And while I rarely felt self-conscious, there was something about sitting on a stage, a few inches above the masses, that left me with an unsettling sense of dread and unease. Despite the layers of my dress, I'd never felt quite so exposed. After desert, the room found a new subject to dissect with their scrutiny.

"All rise for the First Son of Moer, Second Protector of the Eleventh Realm, Duke of Owin, and Crown Heir of Dorsette."

A quick, unamused snort left Liv as she leaned into my ear. "'The prince has arrived' would've done just fine." I tucked a smile between my teeth.

With the conclusion of his esteemed titles and entitlements, the footmen then stomped in unison. The prince appeared beneath the same arch we'd entered. He languidly waved as though returning from a long absence. Behind him stood Thorne.

"How did he get over there so fast?" I asked, nodding at the Druvix. Liv shrugged, her attention redirecting to our Second Guard who was doing everything in her power to avoid my friend's near-constant attention. Now that Liv had bathed and eaten, there was only one more need she wished to fulfill before settling into bed. And it would seem, Sira Alona met all the requirements.

"Leave the poor girl alone," I said, my eyes fixed on the prince as he walked along the aisle, people bowing as he passed.

She waved at the sira. "Unlikely."

"Dorsi women aren't as open to such advances," I reminded her.

She grinned wider, replying, "Only because they don't know any better."

"Liv..."

"Hana..."

"Fine." I huffed. "Just be careful. I'm not restraining her lover or father or whomever when they come after you."

She laughed. "Noted."

The prince drew near while I prepared to make a better impression upon my fake future husband. I smoothed my hair and dress, rose, and clasped my hands beneath my breasts as I'd watched the other ladies in the court do. Yet, next to me, an immediate shift in Nathara's posture and mood stole my focus.

Her shoulders squeezed together like dual knots and her expression closed behind heavy curtains. The princess inhaled slowly for a single, solitary breath. Then, as if someone new inhabited her body, she opened her eyes and smiled. Sobered. Somber. Submissive.

Nathara dipped into a low curtsey as my gaze flickered to Liv. Her expression told me she'd seen the shift and had as many questions—if not more—than me. "I was just getting to know your new bride." Nathara offered her chair to her brother. He took it without hesitation as if it was his right. Which I supposed it was. "They are quite intrigued with our court. They tell me it's nothing like Kelvia."

A servant pushed the chair in from behind as the prince sat. Then the boy unfolded a napkin and placed it on his lap.

"Is that true?" he said, disinterested. Closer than he'd yet been, I found the prince young, maybe even a little younger than myself, with round cheeks and spotty stubble despite his toned muscles. A swath of unbrushed copper curls parted to the side, a cowlick directing its path. Green eyes glowed in the torchlight, sparkling like emeralds nestled into the white sands of the south.