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Auberon stilled. His head was bent so she couldn’t make out his expression, but Riona saw the way tension corded through his shoulders just before he pushed off the wall and turned his back on her. “You should return to the banquet hall before someone comes looking for you. We wouldn’t want to add fuel to any rumors that may arise in the coming weeks.”
Riona nodded, seeing that he did not want to continue down the path their conversation had taken. He stood facing away from her, watching the flames from torches along the walls crackle and dance. His hands curled into fists at his sides. Part of her wanted to ask what was bothering him, what he’d almost admitted, but she could tell by the way he held himself that he was waiting for her to leave.
“Goodnight, Your Highness,” she said softly as she walked away.
Auberon didn’t try to stop her.
ChapterThirty-Five
The Liar
By the Creator, he’d wanted to stop her.
Every step she took away from him, every sharp click of her heels against the stone, sent another dagger through his heart. When the sound of her footsteps finally faded, Auberon slumped against the wall and buried his face in his hands. A small flare of pain shot through his cheek when his fingers brushed the shallow cuts the alley wall had left in his skin. He shouldn’t have come to the banquet. He had managed to do nothing except shatter whatever fragile trust he’d built with Riona.Whyhad he pressed her on the matter of the arranged marriage? Why had he taunted her about her principles, when they were what he admired most about her? Why had he insisted on making such a monumental ass of himself?
Auberon flexed his right hand, the tender bruises across his knuckles aching. He knew why he had pushed her. Watching her paste that practiced smile on her lips and dance with the suitors night after night bothered him almost as much as the advisors’ dismissal of her. Riona had been a vision as she strode down the hall, rage pouring off her as she glared at Eamon. He always enjoyed fracturing her careful façade with his mocking quips and pointed comments when they met in the Royal Theater, but she still played the obedient little noblewoman before the courtiers. It infuriated him. If she wanted to, she could bring the whole court to its knees.
Eventually, she would have to accept the fact that her scheming would not save her from an arranged marriage. They had already spent over two weeks searching for Faylen, and they had come up empty-handed. In truth, Auberon only cared about finding Cathal’s killer because he’d thought it would lead him to information about the mines. It was time to take another route. He had to convince Riona to persuade her uncle to accept the alliance with the Empire. Her resistance cost both their countries more lives every single day. It would be easier for them all if she stopped delaying the inevitable and accepted the future that lay before her.
If he had to play the villain in order to make that happen, so be it.
Auberon composed himself and returned to the banquet hall, where the night’s festivities had just ended. Most of the nobles had left already, and servants bustled around the room, clearing goblets of wine and decorations from the long tables. Riona stood before the dais steps with the king and the rest of her family, speaking with Lord Winslow and Duke Valerian. Drystan was making his way toward them, but he stopped and changed course when he spotted Auberon. They met just inside the banquet hall’s double doors.
“Where have you been?”
“Oh, I just stepped outside to have a little discussion with Eamon. He’s not too happy with me at the moment, I’m sorry to say, but who can blame him?”
Drystan nodded, smirking. “You dealt him a heavy blow tonight. Good work. He can deny the story all he likes, but even those here in Rivosa have heard tales of the slaves’ mistreatment in Kostos. It makes Beltharos look like a paradise in comparison.”
“Exactly,” Auberon responded, too weary to savor the praise. “Keep reminding the council members of the Kostori brutality—and Lady Riona’s sympathy for the slaves—and hopefully they’ll convince the king to reject an alliance. King Domhnall can’t risk turning his niece into a martyr.”
“You don’t fear retribution from Eamon?” Drystan asked, his brows furrowing with concern. “The prince is a proud man, and he won’t take kindly to what you’ve done. And for future reference, I’d like to be warned the next time you turn an evening with the court into a battle.”
“We’re in Rivosa. Every evening with the court is a battle.”
He let out a soft, humorless laugh. “I suppose you’re right about that.”
“As for Eamon, we don’t have any reason to worry right now. He may be proud, but he is also a coward. He’ll find some way to repay me, I’m sure of it, but right now he’s more concerned about the blow to his ego.”
“To hisego?Not to his standing in the negotiations?” Drystan examined him with a wary look. “What precisely happened between you during your little chat?”
Auberon set a hand on Drystan’s shoulder and propelled him toward the dais. “Nothing that concerns you. Just worry about the negotiations with the king, and leave the other suitors to me.”
Across the room, the royal family was bidding goodnight and farewell to the few remaining courtiers. Riona stood at the end of the line, smiling as she spoke with Duke Valerian. He said something that made her laugh, and she tapped on Amaris’s arm to draw her into their conversation, leaning in close to whisper the duke’s joke into the girl’s ear. Amaris chuckled, shooting Valerian a wicked grin.
The second Riona noticed Auberon and Drystan making their way toward her, the humor on her face faded. She kept the smile on her lips as they exchanged farewells with her, Amaris, and Valerian. Yet Auberon could still feel the anger pouring from her in waves. Once the others had moved on to speak with Lord Lachlan and the royal family, Auberon stepped close and murmured, “Think on what I said earlier. You can allow the court to continue to treat you like a pawn and marry you off to the man your uncle chooses, or you can take charge of your future and convince him to pick Drystan. End this war and save countless lives.”
“I will counsel him toward peace for the sake of my people, but I willnevermarry an Erdurian.”
Auberon shook his head. If she wanted to cling to her deluded belief that finding Cathal’s killer would spare her from a political marriage, so be it. They had been working together for weeks and had nothing to show for it. He would find proof of the eudorite mines himself. “Then consider our partnership over, my lady.”
He dropped into a low bow and moved down the line to say farewell to the royal family. The entire time, he felt the weight of Riona’s glare on his back. She hated him. So be it. They were enemies, and over the past few weeks, they had made the mistake of allowing themselves to believe they could ever be anything more than that. Auberon would not relent until the king accepted the marriage alliance—not only because he had been ordered to do it, but because Drystan was enchanted by Riona. They were perfectly suited to each other: intelligent, regal, poised, and they each knew how to walk the line between diplomacy and cutting, brutal truth.
Whether she would admit it or not, Riona could never be happy spending her life chained to her uncle’s court. Even if she somehow managed to convince the king to give her a place on his council, he and the advisors would only ever see her as the powerless little girl she’d once been. Rivosa was too small, too inconsequential, for her. She belonged in Erduria. She belonged on the Empire’s throne.
ChapterThirty-Six
The Lady
