I lifted onto my toes, scanning the crowd as though searching for someone. With a nod to myself, I pressed forward, people parting as they realized who I was. My steps carried me toward the only fixed point in the room—the dais.
And also, quite effectively, took me further from Claydon’sol and his tedious conversation of mountain goat breeding.
My boots halted on the carpet as realization struck—I was moving closer to King Kallias. His furious gaze flashed in my mind, and I stepped back. He had to know I had no part in the announcement, but seeing me without his son after such a claim to the throne was something I wanted nothing to do with.
“Ah, Your Highness!”
A royal did not display irritation.
“Princess Nienna! I forgot to mention goat hair!”
A princess loved all her people—and the quirks that came with them.
With yet another wide grin pasted to my cheeks, I turned to greet the Sols. It seemed fate had decided I needed to learn more about goats and their… hair.
It could have been a worse evening.
The palace could have caught fire, the ceiling collapsing to bury us all. Alas, I spent hours with Claydon’sol and Gayle’sol, listening to endless talk about Kuh’lir—goats that dwelled in their mountainous region. The debate of sheep versus goats stretched into the night.
One glass of wine was my sole companion.
Prince Tallon moved through the crowd, flanked by a group of young nobles. I caught his gaze once, and he smirked, as if he found my conversation with Claydon’sol amusing. I threw a smile right back at him, all teeth, making sure he knew I noticed him.
He disappeared after that.
Asking questions kept the Sols talking. I had to mind my words, careful not to provoke my father’s temper—one of the many traits of his I inherited. It was safer to listen than trust my tongue and lips to remain polite. My brother was lost in the throng, and Tallon abandoned me. I nodded in encouragement as Gayle’sol, a short, frail woman, rambled on about a buck that they captured for breeding.
“And he is quite content!” She beamed, pausing to sip her wine.
A wild buck, penned with hundreds of does. Hardly a life to protest.
“They usually fight a bit,” she drawled, “try to escape. But this one, he’s–”
“Claydon’sol.”
The king’s interruption sent a tremor through me. I would have been content to let these two go on about their goats rather than confront King Kallias.
“Your Majesty!” The Sols bowed and curtsied as I faced him, dropping into my own curtsy.
The music that flowed over the happy din shifted, fading to a tense note, signaling the start of the main event.
“I beg your leave. Princess Nienna is needed,” he said.
I lifted my stare from his polished boots, tracing the sharp lines of his snug dress clothes. His plush green velvet overcoat clung to his broad shoulders, lined with accents of gold. His mantle’s glare challenged the sharpness of his gaze. He watched me with an intensity that felt as if he could peer straight through my soul, all while offering a courteous smile to the nobles.
“Of course! Come, dear,” Claydon called, his voice light with excitement. “Let’s find a good place to watch the dance!”
I kept my expression poised and content, ignoring the guard that trailed the king. Bystanders gave us marginal space, none daring to approach as he stepped closer.
“Where is Tallon?” His voice pitched low, lips barely moving as he offered his arm.
Dread hit me like a physical blow, but I stifled the flinch building beneath my skin. I wouldn’t offer excuses for someone who abandoned me in his own court.
“I haven’t the slightest, Your Majesty. Last I saw, he was making for the doors to the hall.”
His hand rested over his belt, a subtle gesture that barely concealed the tension in his posture. I stole a glance at his face. The slight pinch of his brow made it clear—he was far from pleased that the prince had run off.
Perhaps he should have taught him better manners.
