‘Under the table.’
He laughs. ‘You are … not what I expected.’
I raise an eyebrow. ‘In what way?’
I’m surprised at my boldness, at how I’m conversing with him so easily. I might not be what he expected, but he’s notwhat I expected either. He’s not arrogant, in the way I might have imagined princes to be. Nor does he look at me as if I am dangerous or depraved, yet rather he holds me as though I were something rare and precious. His eyes are searching but his hands are steady, and I find myself leaning into his touch.
He considers my question. ‘It’s just, they call you the Storm Weaver.’
‘Among other things.’
‘People talk,’ he says dismissively. ‘It’s what people do.’
I’m suddenly aware of the many faces turned in our direction.
‘I suppose …’ the prince continues, ‘I suppose I expected someone who …wantedit. Enjoyed it. Being who you are, I mean. Knowing what you’re capable of. Knowing that everyone else knows it too.’
I stare at him blankly. ‘You thought I’denjoyit? Enjoy the fact that I … that I …’
Nearly drowned an entire empire? An empire that will soon be yours?
Prince Haldyn scans my face as though trying to read my thoughts. When it becomes clear that I’m not going to finish my sentence, he speaks again, his voice slightly lowered.
‘I apologize for being so direct. Only, in my experience, those with that kind of power, they … take pleasure in it. They like that it is known. Theywantit to be known.’
I swallow hard. I think I know who he might be referring to.
‘Blaze?’ Flint is dancing with a pretty Ventalla girl. His eyes are wide with astonishment, flicking between Prince Haldyn and me.
As the prince whirls me round again I catch sight of Grandmother, leaning on her stick. She’s smiling at us. Beside her is Ember. She’s not smiling.
I glance back up at Prince Haldyn. He’s already looking down at me, one hand pressed to the base of my spine. He smells of summertime, like bottled sunshine and lemons.
‘I’m sorry if I’m a disappointment to you.’
‘Far from it, Blaze. I might try hiding under the table the next time my father summons me.’
I bite back a laugh. ‘Please don’t tell anyone about that.’
It’s not long before the dance comes to an end, and Prince Haldyn offers me his arm, leading me off the dance floor towards Grandmother.
‘I believe I have something of yours, Lady Harglade,’ he says.
Grandmother’s eyes glitter as she takes my hand. Ember curtsies, fluttering her eyelashes. The prince bows low, then excuses himself.
I watch him walk away into the crowd. The world around me suddenly seems brighter, as though everything were bathed in golden rays.
Moments later Flint appears at my side. ‘Is that a …smile?’
I elbow him in the ribs. ‘Oh, shut up.’
4
It’s late and I’m leaning against a wall, my tired eyes flicking between members of the Council and the colourful array of dancers. Aunt Yvainne dances with her wife, Seraphine. Aunt Hester dances with King Balen, his cloak of swirling fog cutting through the air as he moves gracefully around the dance floor. Prince Haldyn is dancing with his mother. Whether or not it was his intention, his dancing with me has made something of a statement. Ever since, I have been sought out by numerous guests and engaged in polite court chit-chat, during which I’ve exchanged anecdotes about my brother and steered conversations away from my mother.
Yet while this kind of attention is undoubtedly preferable to the substantially more hostile alternative, it has slowly started to drain me. So after a while I disentangle myself from my newfound friends and set off in search of Renly, eventually cornering him by the dessert table. Protesting is futile, and I sentence him to bed.
I catch sight of Grandmother standing a dozen or so yards to my right. The man she’s speaking with has his back to me. Tall and broad-shouldered, with hair like fresh snow, he’s dressed in a simple blue tunic and has what appears to be asmall trident strapped to his belt. Grandmother notices me hovering by the wall and hurries over without so much as a word of farewell to her companion, rubbing exasperatedly at the chocolate smeared on my sleeve.
