“Thank you. His Highness was very kind.”
Her gaze slipped away from me and back to the silvered glass and chandeliers and drapes of fabric. “What I wouldn’t give to live in a palace.” Her voice was both wistful and judgmental, as if I didn’t deserve the great gift bestowed on me.
“I’m here for my protection.”
She snorted, waving a finger at my dress. “No one actually believes that, girl. No man dresses a woman like that for protection.” There was a smirk in her eyes that suggested she knew exactly what he planned to do instead.
“The prince has the stronghold’s business to attend to. I have a room in a different part of the palace.” Or so I assumed. I wasn’t actually sure where his rooms were, since I’d been barred from them.
“You’ve only been here a short while. It would pay you to consider your long-term options. Royals and servants have relationships all the time.”
“As soon as the assassin is caught, there’ll be no need for me to stay.”
“Not with that attitude.” She leaned forward and pinched my cheek hard. “You still work for me. You’re here because I allow it. If I assign you work, you’ll complete that task. Whatever it is. Don’t forget that.”
She patted my cheek with condescending flair, then walked away.
There were footsteps beside me. “What did she say?” Wren asked as she handed me a golden (of course) goblet of wine.
“She suggested I seduce the prince.”
“Of course she did. But don’t.”
“Don’t plan to.”
A bell rang through the room. Talia—looking very much the palace steward, with hair pinned back and tidy dress—appeared at the top of the staircase.
A hush fell over the entire room, and all eyes turned to her in anticipation.
“His Royal Highness, the Western Prince of Carethia, Cassander Ashketh Nikalos Lys’Careth.”
He stepped into view at the top of the stairs, and the crowd murmured appreciatively. He wore dark blue tonight, only a shade darker than his eyes. A coat with a short collar fell nearly to his knee-high boots, with gold embroidery of a tiger and mountain lily entwined (very clever) across the hems and placket. His hair was loose, his eyes cool as they surveyed the room, giving everyone a moment to stare at the man at least a few had believed was dead.
This was no ghost, but a living, breathing soldier who looked strong enough to beat any foes—but smart enough to foil them before the fight began.
“You’re blushing,” Wren whispered.
“You can see him same as me,” I said. “You know why I’m blushing. Same reason half the women in this room, and some of the men, are doing the same. He’s gorgeous.” Which, in that moment, I found infuriating.
“Lys’Careth,” she reminded.
“Aware,” I said, and there was more heat in my voice than I’d meant it to carry. “I can acknowledge that tigers are beautiful without wanting to keep one as a pet.”
“He does look like he’d be a good bounce.”
Slowly, deliberately, I slid my gaze to her. “Excuse me?”
She lifted her goblet. “It’s the wine.”
“And he’s the tiger,” I reminded her, and didn’t like the possessiveness beneath my words. He wasn’tmyprince. “If you want an easier challenge, go dance with Galen.”
That had her nearly spewing wine across her dress. At least the colors would have matched. “The Eonish Sea will freeze over first. I’m going to get more drink,” she said, and stalked toward the table.
I needed to improve my suddenly sour mood. A few strides away, Galen stood against the wall—arms crossed, lip curled, and his gaze trained on Wren.
I’d found my mark. I walked toward him. “Hello.”
He shifted his gaze to me, then back again. And grunted.
