A Dangerous Dance [BOOK ONE]

Chapter One

ALTHEA'S BLOOD WAS BOILING BY THE time she stalked down the grand stairs to the entrance hall of the palace, Phoebe balanced on her hip.

She was very close to throwing something. In fact, she had already hurtled the silver letter opener of Locklyn's into the mahogany paneling behind the poor fellow's desk this morning when she had received the news. She was sure that he would never let her go near sharp objects now that she had unleashed her fury with the letter opener.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. How could he do this to her?

"Thea, why mad?" Phoebe was a better judge of Althea's turbulent mood than most, and she was only two.

She stopped suddenly, her skirts swirling to a stop around her ankles, and sighed deeply before pushing Phoebe's wild curls away from her small, chubby face, "Oh, Phoebe, I'm not mad. Everything is all right."

Satisfied by her soothing words, Phoebe wiggled and squirmed to be let down, but Althea only obliged when they were off the steps. Though she had learned to walk only a few months ago, she didn't look the part for how confident she was toddling off in the direction of Jacquline and Kadence, who were just coming from the library.

And from behind them came Locklyn, ever a gloomy presence in his ebony suit and coal cravat. As long as she had known the young gentlemen, Althea had never seen him wear any other color besides black.

His appearance made her remember why she had stormed down the stairs in the first place.

"Your Highness." Locklyn greeted Althea with his usual impeccable manners and a quick bow once he had gotten free of the two girls.

She narrowed her eyes, all the fury and rage from that morning flooding back, boiling her blood once again, "Don't you 'Your Highness' me, Locklyn. I am not in the mood."

"I see that you are still upset about this morning." He observed drily. If Althea hadn't known him so well she would've thought that it was his attempt at humor.

However, after working closely with Locklyn for almost four years now, not to mention the previous five years of knowing his family, she knew it was really him patronizing her.

He was taking quite the risk patronizing her. She hated it. Hated it so much that it only added to the boil. Althea was sure that at this point, she wouldn't have any blood left because her anger will have boiled it all away.

"Oh," she worked hard to keep her voice down, "I am far, far away from upset now, Prime Minister." If her jab at his station within the palace effected him in any way, he didn't show it.

For the sake of her sisters, who weren't very far away and more sisters were appearing, she didn't scream and throw things the way she wanted.

Normally, she was level-headed about everything. The constant squabbles her sisters got into, problems with the household staff or the kitchen, even back in the war she had been known to keep her head in a stressful situation.

But this? This was beyond her limit of pressure she could take. Something in her had simply... snapped. Not that it wasn't unwarranted. This only added to the stress she already had about everything else, and that stress was one that only her sisters might possibly understand.

"When?" She asked, hoping to take a small comfort in the date Locklyn would tell her.

Please be far in the future. Please be far in the future. Please be-

"Sooner than I expected, I'm afraid, Princess." Locklyn solemnly delivered, "Lord Etherson will be arriving in a week."

Her fingers curled up into a fist, squeezing so tightly her nails dug into the skin of her palm, "But Father doesn't arrive home in a week! He arrives in two weeks."