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CHAPTER EIGHT
NINAWASSITTINGat one of the tables set up in semiprivate alcoves dotted around the main ballroom. This part of Graciela Castle was clearly a more recent addition—meaning the last century or two—because each alcove was carefully situated with views out over the tiny kingdom’s sweeping valley, covered in snow and dotted with light.
And to make the fairy-tale evening even better, she was waiting for Zeus to return with food. Because, apparently, in the role of Prince Charming that he was playing tonight, he not only danced with her...he fetched things for her.
It was all part of the fantasy she was letting herself believe tonight.
Nina took a deep, steadying breath and wondered if this was what it felt like to truly be happy. No expectations, no regrets. Just that look on Zeus’s face and the fire that seemed to burn brighter between them by the hour.
She had no experience with happiness. The closest she’d come was out there on her brief travels—though even then, she’d still been so aware of what she’d run from.
Tonight she was only aware of Zeus.
And the way she felt when she was with him, the focus of all that bright green intensity.
Nina shivered a little, then laughed at herself. She patted her belly.I think your father might be a good man, she confided silently to her child.When pressed. You’ll see.
The music was glorious, a full orchestra playing music to beat back the winter dark. And Nina almost felt as if she was a queen already, sitting here in sweet solitude as she waited for Zeus’s return.
When she looked up and saw Isabeau descending upon her, her usual entourage fanned out behind her, her first thought was that she’d fallen asleep at her table and this was a dream. A dream she’d had more times than she could count. All of those haughty and imperious faces, some already alight with malice. If Nina had been with them, she would have been shuffling along at the rear of the pack, far enough back that she could avoid the poisonous looks they liked to throw her way.
Because they had gained their position with Isabeau through the usual channels—that being by the lucky accident of having noble blood that stretched back through the ages in Haught Montagne, as was proper. Nina had wondered many times if her presence was an insult to these other ladies-in-waiting even more than to the Princess.
The way they were all glaring daggers at her now, she had to assume the insult was universal.
Princess Isabeau came to a stop before Nina in a dramatic manner that she knew very well made her skirt swirl about her while showing her legs to best advantage. She practiced it. And it occurred to Nina that it felt a lot like power to know the things she knew about this woman and no longer have to hold her tongue.
Not that she had to descend to Isabeau’s level. But shecould.
“I can’t believe you dare to show your face,” the Princess said in her usual cutting tone. “Especially in your revolting state.”
Nina understood that she was to take from that the clear message that her face was unpleasant, shown or unshown. Because Isabeau was a classically beautiful, tiny little brunette with a heart-shaped face and perfect bone structure, and she loved to make sure others knew how ugly they were in comparison. She particularly liked to let Nina know this.
It only occurred to her now that Isabeau would not have spent so much effort slapping Nina down about her looks—or her offensive lack thereof—if she hadn’t felt threatened in some way. And why would she feel threatened? Only if Nina actually looked the way Zeus made her feel.
The revelation made her smile, far too brightly.
But “Pregnancy is quite natural” was all she said in return. “Some find it very beautiful.”
And what a joy it was to say whatever she liked without having to second-guess her words or her tone or the expression on her face. She was no longer Isabeau’s little pet. Her pocket orphan that she could pull out whenever someone accused her of being exactly who she was as evidence that once upon a time, she’d had a benevolent impulse.
Nina couldn’t seem to tamp down her smile, and Isabeau...actually looked uncertain for once. She brushed back a tendril of her lovely hair, her blue eyes narrowing.
Always a warning sign.
“Who do you think is buying this act? If Prince Zeus was capable of impregnating anyone, he would have had a parade of bastards by now.” Isabeau sniffed, then looked crafty. Another red flag. But tonight Nina couldn’t seem to work up the necessary concern. “The people of Theosia will rise up in revolt against a grubby commoner trying to pass off her baby as heir to their kingdom.”
Nina had not seen that one coming. Maybe she should have. She laughed and took her time standing up from the table, propping one hand on the belly before her, big enough that Isabeau looked askance at it. “I assure you, Isabeau. There is absolutely no doubt about the paternity of this child.”
And she wasn’t sure she meant to, but she said that in such a steady, distinct way that there could be no doubt that she was announcing—in no uncertain terms—not only her relationship with Zeus but exactly how their baby had been made.
All right. Maybe she did mean to.
It felt...liberating.
Isabeau looked as shocked as if Nina had hauled off and slapped her. “You’re nothing,” she hissed. “You’ll never be anything but a charity case. Don’t you know that by now, Dumpy?”
Nina sighed. Not because the nickname hurt. It didn’t. It never had. But it was only now that she’d stopped hiding herself that she realized how silly it was that she ever had. And how pathetic Isabeau was to issue taunts like they were on a playground.
