AllFreeNovel
Share Us
If last night taught me anything, it’s that the royal family can’t be trusted. Their twisted truths are wrapped in pretty packages, with muscles, and save the damsel attitudes plus a dash of mystery.
Stars dammit! I’m so mad at myself!
I literally gave Ezra to the people I’d rather die than trust. I was worried about his safety before, when I thought a soldier was smuggling him into the castle. Now that I know all of this is the Crown’s doing, he’ll be experimented on if they suspect Ezra’s been cursed. He’ll be lucky to last the week.
I rise from the curtsey, and one of the ushers gestures for me to step aside. At this point of the introduction, the other potential Ladies of the Court are expected to fold into the crowd, but I know my name will be forgotten once I do.
Even though Bash is looking at me with the same hungry desire I saw in the woods, it changes nothing. For all I know, he’s looked at every lady this way. We’re here for his entertainment and possibly to be his bride. I’ll be surprised if he hasn’t mentally undressed every one of us, trying to determine who he’d enjoy fucking most.
I’m hedging my bets that the other girls walked to the sidelines when they were told. Sage said men want what they can’t have, and the Crown will never let a Cerise sit on the throne. But if they were to consider me, hair can be cut and dyed.
A mouthy woman, however, those are harder to tame. They’re wild and unpredictable. From what I’ve seen of Bash, I’d say he doesn’t care to follow other people’s rules. I think he’d like some challenge throughout the Culling.
“This is quite the gathering you’ve amassed,” I say, intentionally gazing around the room again.
I feel the heat of King Travers’s gaze on my chest when he finally looks at me. I let those eyes linger, unmatched, for a few heartbeats before bringing my attention back to the dias. His mouth twists into a strange smirk, and I can’t tell if he is angry with my presence or amused. Whatever it is, he doesn’t immediately call for my head on a spike, so I'm calling it a win.
Prince-lies-a-lot shifts forward in his seat and rests his elbows on his knees. He shakes his head in amusement and mouths, “Oh, little bird.”
Any doubt I had about Bash recognizing me is gone. The question is, are those lips about to open and spill our secrets?
The Red Keep isn’t the kind of place a Lady of the Court should be. Then again, it isn’t anywhere a prince should have found himself either. I can’t prove it, but I doubt I was the only one with nefarious intentions last night.
“Indeed, it is,” Bash replies, and the little hairs on my arms stand at the sound of his voice. “I imagine this is much grander than the parties your estate might’ve allowed.”
A hushed laughter follows what is meant to be an insult, but my feelings aren’t hurt. If Bash knew I spent most of my life traveling by horse in a carriage barely big enough for one person, let alone three, he’d probably rescind my forged invitation on the spot.
King Travers chuckles lightly and takes a large sip of wine from his chalice. Since he isn’t issuing a reprimand, I think it’s safe to say my implied embarrassment is a suitable punishment for my crime. After all, I’ve spoken out of turn and directly to the Crown.
What is the general rule within the court? Ladies are to be seen andnot heard unless directly spoken to. I’m sure my uncle has steam pouring out of his ears, but the prince has spoken to me. It is game on.
“Oh, it certainly is.” I walk to a nearby server, ladies and lords shuffling out of my way with each step, and take a glass of wine off his tray. “It must cost a fortune to host such a lavish event, but I’m sure the people under his lordship are grateful for the employment.”
Bash smirks and the subtle up twitch of his lips has my treacherous stomach somersaulting with excitement. As much as I want to deny the truth, he’s even more breathtakingly handsome than he was last night.
I take another sip of the wine and try not to wince at its pungency. This is by far the worst flavor I’ve ever had. It tastes like rotten boysenberry.
“Do you know any of them personally?” Bash inquires.
“Who?” I ask, distracted by the bitterness lingering on my tongue.
My senses prickle, although there is a high chance the feeling has every bit to do with all the wine I’ve drunk and not a warning, so I ignore it. I roll another small sip over my lips and try to pinpoint the flavor. The berry isn’t boysenberry. It is something else. Something I know but can’t put my finger on.
“Our help.” A hint of concern flashes over the prince's perfect face. If I hadn’t seen what it looked like last night, I would have missed the sentiment because it quickly turns to frustration. “Do you prefer their company to mine?”
“It appears I have forgotten my manners. Please forgive me, Your Majesty.” I curtsey again. Heat climbs my neck, and a bead of sweat trickles down my back. I don’t know if it’s the wine or my nerves, but I feel…off.
“Tonight is about you, my lord. I don’t know your employees and am speaking out of turn.” I look at him through my lashes, trying to sound as seductive as possible. “If there is anything I can do for penance, please let me know.”
Bash sits back in his chair, his lips pressed tight to hide his grin. For a moment, fear ripples through me. I may regret my words later, but for now, he says, “Enjoy the party, Lady Khiara. That is your penance.”
I don’t have to force my smile. I’m failing to tame the butterfliestearing up my stomach, and I one-hundred percent blame the wine. “Thank you, my lord.”
I rise from another awful curtsey and bring the wine to my lips, pretending to take another sip. I refuse to let it touch my tongue again. There is something wrong with it, although I don’t know what.
I head toward the table of hors d’oeuvres and set the glass down. My head is spinning from more than just Bash’s deception. The edges of the room blur, and I can feel the sway of the earth even though my feet are planted on the floor. I decide I've hit my limit for the night and that something solid in my stomach to soak up the alcohol might be a good idea.
There is so much food to choose from; it’s sickening. Guilt gnaws at me as I reach for a strawberry. Our people would die for a spread like this. Sutherland and I offer what we can to our townsfolk, but we’ve never been able to provide fruit.
