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CHAPTER ONE
CASTLESANDPALACESand all such trappings of royalty, Nina Graine reflected dryly, were much better in theory than in practice.
She would know,having had far too much of that practice.
Intheory, castles were all about fairy tales. She’d thought so herselfwhile growing up in the orphanage. Think ofcastles and it wasall happy, merry songs dancing gracefully ona sweet breeze. Happy-ever-afterssounding from on high, possibly with thehelp of fleets of cantering unicorns.
Ninawas pretty sureshe’d had that dream at least a thousand times.
Butthen she’d learned the truth.
Inpractice, castleswere dark and drafty old things. Most of them had been fortressesfirst and were therefore built in places where ransacking armies andthe odd barbarian could be turned away witha minimum of fuss. They were filled with musty tapestries and bristling with trophiesof battles past. No matter how modernized they claimed tobe, there were always too many ghosts in the fortified walls.
Palaces, meanwhile, were lessabout defense and more about drama.Look at me,a palace cried.I’m better than everything and especially you.
Like the one she was currently visiting in theisland kingdom of Theosia, sitting pretty in theMediterranean Sea. The Kings ofTheosia had calledthis place thePalace of theGods, clearly not suffering from any form of impostor syndrome.
Shealmoststarted thinking about the palace’s current occupants, the unwell, old King Cronos and his only son and heir,the wicked, scandalous, upsettingly beautiful Prince Zeus.Almost.
But there would be time enough for that.
Instead, Nina focused her attention on the stuffy littleroom she’d been left in. It could have been in any palace, anafterthought of a space tucked away in the administrative wing where royal feetseldom trod. Nina had been marched here after she’dpleaded her case to a succession of palace guards, starting with theones at the looming gate. They had finally transferred her intothe care of the palace staff and she had been brought here bythe sniffiest,most disdainfulbutler she had ever encountered.
But that was par for the course in the underbelly of aroyal household. Nina tried to make herself comfortable on asettee that had likely been built for the expresspurpose of makinginterlopers squirm. No wonder it was down here in thebasement, the domain of all manner of pettycruelties andintense jockeying for position. Down here—and itwas always thesame, no matter what kingdom or huffy principality—itwas really more the palace of gorgons than gods.
Becausetheroyals were bad enough. Kings and queens with their reignsand their wars and their commandments were all very well,though they did tend to litter princes and princesses about—all primed by lives of excess to behave as atrociously as possible.
Theyalmost couldn’t helpthemselves, what with all that blue bloodmaking them soconstitutionally obnoxious.
Itwas the people who trailed about afterroyalty, obsequious and scheming, that Nina truly couldn’t stand.The palace courtiers and uppitystaff. Theycouldhave helped themselves but chose not to. However subservient they were when faced with the royalty theyserved, that was exactly how cutthroat they were behind thescenes. It might as well still be the DarkAges,when the wrong whisper inthe right ear led straight to beheadings.
Theremight not be too many beheadings with a blade these days,because monarchies were ever more concernedwith their images. These days, beheadings were performed in the press, reputations were slashedwith a single headline, and on and on the courtierswhispered gleefully, as if actual lives weren’t ruinedbecause of theirgames.
Whyswing a blade when you could gossip to the same end?
Nina knew all ofthis entirely too well, and too personally.She’dbeen the primarylady-in-waiting to Her Royal Highness, Princess Isabeau of HaughtMontagne, a small kingdom high in the Alps,sincethe day beforeher sixteenthbirthday. A role she had not wanted, had not liked, and shouldhave been overjoyedto lose six monthsago.
Alas, her exit had been...complicated.
Shewas brooding about those complications as she fidgeted in heruncomfortable seat. The palace guards had confiscated her personaleffects, so she couldn’t distract herself fromwhat she wasdoing. No mobile. No snacks.
Itreally was torture.
And then herbaby kicked inside her, no doubt as cranky without a snackas Nina was—but the sensation made her smile. She smoothed her handsover her belly, murmuring a little to soothe them both.
Soon enough,someone would come and get her. And then, at some point oranother, she would be face-to-face with the creature responsible forthestate shewas in—a state that required, once again, thatshe concern herself with the doings of royalty whenthat wasthe last thing she wanted.
Some people went theirwhole lives without encountering a person of royalblood.Nina couldn’t seem to stop tripping overthem. Though tripping wasnot how she would describe her last encounter withthe arrogantlynamed Zeus.
Prince Zeus.
Eventhinking that name made her...determined.
Ninaclung tothat word.She was determined,that was all. To see this through. To acquit herself appropriately.To handle this situation as wellas possible, for the sake of her child.
Todo the right thing—without going down the rabbithole of blame. She was determined, and that was enough.Because she didn’tlike any of the otherwordsshe could have chosen to describeher current state.
Shesighed and returned her attention to this palaceand her officiouslittle waiting room.All the furnishings here were too big, too formal, for a palace made all in glorious white—the better to beckon the sea, the guidebooks simpered.
