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A single manicured eyebrow quirks. “Fall apart meaning what?”
“I guess sort of…decay?”
Understanding crosses her face. She offers a contemplative nod. “Well, that sounds similar to withering magic.” The words hang between us. She glances toward the trees beyond the terrace. “You know, like Prince Kirran’s.”
ChapterFourteen
KIRRAN
Though somewhat empty, the ballroom is no more welcoming than it was last night. Dozens of servants scurry about, readying all the food, and the first few guests filter through the far doorways. Yet again, mostly women.
I return to the spot I claimed last night and settle in to wait it out. Soldiers gravitate toward me, each one a welcome sight. A few women approach, but when I don’t respond well to their inane questions, they move on. When I finally decide to eat something, one of the soldiers hurries to gather a plate for me. He returns with far too much food, so we pass it around our circle.
I endure the first couple hours with relative ease. Probably only because my father doesn’t notice me amid the cluster of other uniformed men.
But then he does.
“Kirran!” my father’s voice booms. The soldiers around me fall silent. He stands a few strides away, an array of women behind him.
My stomach twists. This can’t be good.
“Won’t you come join us?”
I glance at the women, at my soldiers, and settle my gaze on him. “No, thanks.”
My father’s broad smile falters, and his voice drops to more of a rumble. “Kirran. Come join us.” One brow twitches. The candlelight sparkles across his crown as he tips his head to the side. “Or I’ll make myself clear a different way.”
Our stares hold. A ripple awakens under my skin. I lift my chin.
Then I force myself away from my soldiers and toward him.
His faded smile returns as a smirk. He faces the women as I reach them. “Since you seem to be having a hard time socializing with women, even though that’s your express objective these nights, I wanted you to meet some of the most eligible ladies of the court and noble houses.”
I sweep my attention over them again. My gaze lingers on the three who don’t match, both from their lack of masks and their ages. “Some of them are a bit old for me, don’t you think?”
A couple of the younger women’s lips pinch like they’re holding back amusement, and one in a shimmery red dress readjusts her hands at her waist. My father lets out a clearly fake guffaw.
“Always such a jokester, this one.” He shifts so the women can’t see his face and flares his nostrils and eyes at me. Just as quickly, he grins again and spins back to the crowd he’s gathered. “The mothers are present to meet the man who may choose one of their daughters as his bride.”
I blink once. “Great.”
“First, you may remember Lady Indirra and her exquisite daughters, Vallda and Devikka.” He flourishes a hand toward them, his expression bright and fake smile wider still.
I don’t take my gaze from him. Don’t spare them a glance. Both hands clench before I can restrain myself. I’ve never looked at myself when I’m angry, but Alia once told me that my eyes glow gold. I don’t doubt it. I’ve seen other powerful fey display something similar.
With the way heat spirals through my chest, I can only imagine what expression fills my face right now.
“Oh, I remember them.” I all but spit my response between clenched teeth. My glare rests on my father a second longer before snapping to Alia’s stepfamily. The shorter daughter flinches. “Ladies. You look…lovely.”
The shorter daughter — Devikka, I think — dips into a curtsy. As if her action reminds the others of propriety, both her mother and sister lurch to do the same.
Like they could do anything to change what I think of them.
My father breezes on as if I’ve greeted them with warm embraces. Then he blabbers out the other names of equally uninteresting young women, pausing after each family so I have ample time to acknowledge them.
Even as I manage to make my escape, back to my soldiers, the girls’ eyes follow me. Wanting me for the reasons I don’t want them. Because of what I symbolize. Or what now accompanies me. Luxury. Power. Prestige. A kingdom and servants at their beck and call.
Temptation enough for any woman.
