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CHAPTER8
LUNA
Three years later…
The crunch of gravel draws my attention to the window as several carriages pull up outside the estate. The door to my room opens and mother walks over to stand behind me, studying my reflection in the mirror.
I smooth a hand over the silken skirt of my gown. Grandmother had this made for me, and it is stunning. The green perfectly complements my hair and eyes, but the bodice is so tight I can barely breathe.
“You are absolutely lovely, my darling daughter,” Mother says, smiling as she rests her hands on my shoulders. “I believe the Prince will make an offer for your hand before the evening is through.”
My hair is braided with green ribbon and twisted atop my head like a crown. My eyes travel over the mark on my neck. It is so faint, it is easy for most to overlook, but not me. Each time I wear my hair up, I think of Malak, remembering when he gave it to me.
Sighing, I reach up and trace my fingers over the light scarring. I thought it was a promise, but I was wrong.
Shortly after we returned to Avalor, Malak sent me a message. He told me we could not be together and that I should forget about him. Shortly after, I found out he was betrothed to the Wolf Shifter Princess of Ilanthos, uniting the Northern Clan with that of his family’s.
Mother’s gaze tracks my hand, and she shakes her head softly. “Oh, Luna,” she gently chastises. “It has been three years. You have to let him go, my dear.”
“I have, Mother.” At least… that’s what I keep telling myself. “Truly.”
At first, I’d thought the letter was a lie, because it had nothing of our code in it. But when I finally heard news that he was engaged, it shattered my heart. It took a long time to piece it back together, but I finally have. And now… it is time to move on.
“Prince Duren just arrived, and he has already inquired about you.” She grins. “I told him you would be down shortly.” Her gaze shifts to the window. “It seems nearly everyone is here.”
As I study my mother’s reflection in the mirror, I can’t help but think she is more excited about this ball than me. She and Father have been planning this for weeks. All with the intent of enticing the prince to come and ask for my hand.
With as many times as Father has insisted I accompany him to the castle, and has very conveniently put me in situations to have meals with the prince, I’m sure he is practically beside himself thinking all his planning will finally come to fruition this night.
Prince Duran is an amiable person, and we do have many things in common, but there is no… spark, for lack of a better word. At least, not on my part. Mother insists it does not matter. All that’s important is that we get along. Which we do.
Of course, all my father’s planning could be for nothing. I am not the only eligible woman that will be in attendance tonight. Nor will the Prince be the only unmarried man. Lords and Ladies from all corners of the kingdom and some even beyond its borders will be here this evening, many of them hoping to find an advantageous match.
A knock at the door brings forth one of the servants. She enters with a huge bouquet of pink roses. A beaming smile lights her face as she sets them in the vase on the table beside me. “The Prince said I should bring these up to you right away, Lady Luna.”
Mother clasps her hands together and then kisses the top of my head. “He’s going to ask for your hand this evening, I just know it.”
When my father first suggested a match between me and the prince, I thought him mad. There are many ladies of the court who come from families with more wealth and standing than mine, but, according to the queen, when last I saw her, I am the most beautiful of them all. And, judging from the gift of flowers, it seems the prince may agree.
Mother grabs the powder from the stand and dabs some more over the mark on my neck, scowling until it is completely hidden beneath the makeup. She grins. “There. Much better.”
I know she is only trying to be helpful, but every time any attention is drawn to my mark, my heart feels heavy all over again.
“Are you ready, my dear?” Mother asks as she hands me my mask.
The intricate white and gold pattern is lovely, but I frown when I notice the elongated ears on either side. “A hare?” It’s bad enough that this event makes me feel like I’m about to be prey in the midst of several predators. “Is there nothing else?”
She holds out her own mask. “Would you prefer a cat?”
I shake my head, don my mask, and then follow her downstairs.
The entire estate has been decorated for the masquerade ball. My parents spared no expense. My gaze travels over the glittering silk ribbons that wind down the banister and around the columns, golden vases overflowing with vibrant flowering arrangements, and tables heavily laden with drinks and food.
Golden chandeliers hang from the ceiling in the ballroom, their candlelight reflecting off the ceiling and the walls, casting beautiful patterns across the floor. A string quartet plays in the corner, as men dressed in their finery and women in gorgeous dresses dance to the lovely music. At least two dozen couples, each of them wearing masks, spin and whirl across the floor in almost perfect synchrony with each other.
I grab a goblet and sip at the wine, hoping it will steady my nerves. As much as I want to please my parents, I’m not entirely sure how I will react if Prince Duren truly does ask for my hand this evening. He seems kind and we have many things in common, but is that enough for a successful marriage? Or should there be more?
Just as I’m beginning to wonder if anyone can tell who is who beneath their mask, Prince Duran walks over to us. His bright blue eyes are a sharp contrast to his golden mask with antlers. His mask no doubt chosen to represent the royal sigil of their house—the Stag.
