“You do?”
“Don’t be so surprised. I’m not as cold-hearted as stories make me out to be. Your suggestion is a reasonable one.” Letting go of my arm she stops and pivots towards me. “I’ve heard grand stories of the great explorer prince. And even grander stories of my precious Farella Isle. I assume it’s a desired destination of yours.”
I give her a pitiful smile. “I’ll make you a deal,” she continues, “I’ll grant you access to Farella, but you must bring your findings back here and they shall be split fairly. Although, I do warn you, those lands have been closed off to travelers for a reason, and I’m certain you’ll find much more trouble than treasure.”
She wants the flower, and much like my father, she is counting on me to locate it. Even if there is something worth finding, my father will not permit me to come back to Haymel. Nor would I risk the return to this kingdom. But all she needs is my word, even if it is a lie.
“Fair enough.” And I watch my agreement pull a smile from her, one far from joy and closer to deception.
“Well then, you have permission to travel my lands anytime you’d like.” She locks her arm back with mine and proceeds into her throne room. It is far grander than the one in Saden and looks exceptionally polished and decorated for tomorrow’s masquerade. Orange and white azaleas fill the room, a sight thatwould have my mother hyperventilating. “As one of our special guests tomorrow, I want to make sure you are ready for the festivities. Do you already have an outfit? If not, we can fashion something quickly.”
“Yes, Your Grace. I brought appropriate attire with me.”
“Good.” Her arm slides away from mine as a servant brings over a tray. The scent is heavenly. “Spiced pear tarts. A specialty dessert in Haymel. Do try one.”
The servant lowers a tray of the flaky golden tarts. Saden is not accustomed to having pears and only receives them through trade. Most of the supply is dispersed amongst the palace and other noble homes.
My mouth waters as a parade of butter and spices floods my awareness. I resist the urge to take more. There are more important matters, and this is all beginning to feel like a distraction.
“Of course, you will need a date.” She tosses her unfinished portion of the tart on the tray and pets her fox once again. “After careful consideration, I’ve chosen Vera to escort you tomorrow.”
“Vera?” Smothering a cough with my hand, I turn my face from her afraid it will give my emotions away. Does she think I am some child who is incapable of selecting for myself? And Vera is beautiful, well spoken, clearly educated, and possesses a spiciness that is enough to keep me engaged, but her face isn’t the one that comes to mind. “Isn’t Ariah tasked with helping me?” I turn back, focusing to keep my face unreadable. “Surely she can remain with me during the ball and my brother can carry on with Vera.”
She clicks her tongue and steps towards me. Her shoulders rise and there is a pinch between her eyebrows. “I would love to provide that option for you, but Prince Marcel insisted on having Ariah as his date. I’m afraid I must oblige to his needs first, being that he’s the heir of Saden.”
The fingers of my right hand fan out, spreading as far as they’ll allow before curling into a fist. Blood thrums through my hand spreading a flame that ignites my body, scorching my face.
“I’m afraid I have to go.” I bow to Queen Cayleen and storm out of the throne room. She mumbles something but I don’t hear the words, nor care to hear them.
Memories of an all too familiar scenario resurface. This isn’t the first time Marcel has taken an interest in what’s mine. He and Thana were caught by Deean years ago. In that instant, the longest and only relationship I’d ever had ended. Ultimately saving me, but scaring, nonetheless.
There were encounters after Thana, but a jaded heart makes for a terrible companion, and even worse lover.
Ariah feels different than the rest. There is a constant need to be in her presence. Excitement in wanting to share stories with her and a longing for her to reveal pieces of herself.
Though we are nothing, and I can’t call her mine, it’s knowing Marcel took something I desired for himself that pains and infuriates me.
I forgave him once, but I would rather a poison stop my heart before I do it again.
24
ARIAH
“Marcel?”
I was nearly finished with the Queen’s dress when a messenger boy sent word that the Queen desired to see me.
Vera was waiting when I entered the study, her eyes falling once they met mine. It took all of thirty seconds for the Queen to share the news and for me to figure out why Vera had looked so timid.
For tomorrow’s masquerade I am to be Prince Marcel’s date. It comes as a surprise, and though she tries to hide it, a relief to Vera. And Vera will be the one to accompany Iann.
“I thought the arrangement you made was just fine,” I say.
“Is there a problem with the change?” Queen Cayleen snaps, viciously slewing her words. “Would you like to tell the Prince, and heir of Saden, that Ariah Tyndall would rather go with his brother? That his Royal Highness is wrong in his selection?”
Vera sends me a cautionary look, one meant to keep me quiet and at the mercy of the Queen.
My head falls like a chastised child. “No, Your Grace. I wasn’t questioning you or the Prince.” I force a swallow before my next words. “I will attend the masquerade with Prince Marcel as he desires.”
