While he walked, Alaric tried to unravel the mystery of how she’d managed to undo his sword belt and hide it away—only the gods knew where in that dress—without ever having him suspect a thing. Hells, her hands had been pressed to his chest for half the concurrence and crossed for the other.

  Alaric finally found his way to her door, where Hendry and Leander—two honourable guards under Gray’s charge—were stationed, both bowing respectably to him. Leander rose and shot him a wink. “Did I hear something about your sword going missing, Your Highness?”

  Hendry leaned over to punch Leander in the shoulder.

  Alaric rolled his eyes skyward, laughing lightly. “Indeed, Leander. Indeed.” He stepped forward and raised a fist to the door to knock. Leaning casually against the doorframe, he waited for someone to answer. To his surprise, Kerensa opened the door herself, a smile playing on her lips.

  “Can I help you, Prince?” she inquired, tipping her head curiously.

  Gods, this woman.

  Alaric relaxed further against her door frame, matching her smile with a lazy smirk of his own. “Don’t you have a maid to answer the door for you?”

  “Don’t you have a servant to announce your entrance for you?”

  “Knocking allows me a certain sense of humility.”

  “I dismissed my maid for the night.”

  “Well then,” Alaric mused, “here we are.” Hendry and Leander choked on their laughter behind him. He pointedly ignored them.

  “Yes,” Kerensa clipped, “here you are, half-dressed and standing outside my door at an ungodsly hour without the basic decency to tell me what you want.”

  Her words, he was finding, had a way of stunning him momentarily, unable to move or react in the aftershock. No one—at least in the palace—had ever dared to speak to him like she did. Alaric had to admit it was refreshing.

  Although she was grossly exaggerating the situation. His laced linen shirt remained tucked into his slacks, hair untouched and boots on his feet. And it wasn’t even passed midnight. But her last remark… “I think you know why I came.”

  She squinted. “Care to specify, Prince?”

  Alaric’s grin grew. Would I ever. “I believe you took something of mine, Lady.” Then he leaned in so close his mouth nearly brushed her ear. Her body stiffened at his proximity. “Or should I call you Thief?” he murmured mischievously. He pulled back, keeping his eyes on her.

  Kerensa swallowed, pursing her lips and tightly responding, “Bold of you to assume, don’t you think?”

  “Not quite as bold as you, certainly.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Alaric exhaled, closing his eyes for a second. “As much as I find these games amusing,” he disclosed, “I don’t exactly have the time right now.” He threw her a meaningful look.

  Her eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him. After a long moment, she flung her arms up, giving in. “Fine. Wait here.” And she shut the door on his face.

  Alaric glanced at Leander and Hendry, shaking his head as they tried to hide their beguilement. “You see what I have to deal with now?” he said.

  “Oh, we know,” Hendry supplied, regaining his composure. “She talks to us the same way.”

  “How am I not shocked?” What I would give to watch her and my father face off. “When did she arrive exactly?”

  Leander cut in, “As far as we know, no one was expecting her today. She must have taken a boat inland along the Ohrivon, shortening the journey. She made it to Farrador Castle with a single emissary late this afternoon and met with the king.”

  An emissary. The man who was with her in the city. But… I thought he was Lithian. “Would I be able to speak with this emissary?” Alaric questioned.

  “Not likely,” answered Hendry. “Apparently His Majesty grew displeased with him.”

  Alaric mulled this information over in his head. “And…she didn’t bring any protection? Her father is a Cebrevenese general, is he not? He would send his daughter across the sea without any regard for her safety?”

  Leander and Hendry exchanged a glance, neither able to give him an explanation.

  He paused for a moment; hands clasped behind his back. It could just be that he was looking for any reason to discredit his upcoming nuptials despite his father’s warning, but something about the whole scenario seemed off to him.

  Alaric spun back to the door, muttering something intentionally incoherent under his breath. “I swear, if she’s gone to bed and left me out here—” He knocked decisively, his words breaking off. “Kerensa!”

  A long silence answered.

  “Kerensa! I know you can hear me. Open the door!”

  Nothing.

  His heart kicked up a notch. What…? He hesitated before testing the handle.

  The door clicked open easily.

  Looking back over his shoulder, he said to Leander and Hendry, “Wait here.”

  They both straightened, suddenly on high alert. Hendry started, “Your Highness—”

  “Wait. Here.” Technically Alaric held almost as much authority over them as Gray, seeing as they were a part of his guard, too.

  Alaric pushed forward, not giving them another chance to rebuke.

  Kerensa’s rooms were made up of a sizable sitting room complete with two plush chairs and a settee, a low table, a fireplace and mantle, and various rugs spread along the floor. A door on the far wall led to her bedroom and connecting balcony that overlooked the courtyard. At the moment, that door was ajar, a cool breeze flowing from one room to the other.

  She was not in the first room, so Alaric tentatively approached the bedroom. It was eerily quiet, the sound of the night wind rustling the drapes hardly diminishing the feeling in his gut. “Kerensa?” he tried softly, easing the door open slowly.

  When no response came, he took a step inside.

  She stood in the doorframe that led to the balcony on his right, her back to him as she breathed in the night air.

  His brow furrowed in confusion at her unresponsiveness. “Kerensa…” Cautiously moving closer so as not to scare her, Alaric sidled up to her side. He studied the way her gaze was fixated on a spot on the ground, the small tremors that rocked her body, and the spastic rhythm of her breathing. Her cheeks shimmered with tearstains.

  His heart leapt into his throat at the signs. Alaric moved, positioning himself in front of her, murmuring, “Hey, hey, hey. You’re okay. Everything is alright.”

  Her focus broke, eyes clashing with his, panic flooding the gates. The small shivers transformed into uncontrollable trembling, her chest rising and falling too fast. Those brilliant copper eyes darted in every direction, her hands coming up to her hair like she would pull it right out of her scalp.

  Alaric grabbed Kerensa’s wrists, gently guiding them in front of her so she wouldn’t hurt herself. “Focus on my breathing,” he requested, making a show of inhaling and exhaling deeply.

  She listened, her attention rapt on the movement of his chest as she tried to regain control of her breaths. Gradually, her gaze trailed up his broad shoulders and the column of his throat before reconnecting with his eyes. Concern was etched into his features as he assessed her condition. “Kerensa—”

  She flinched and took a step back, turning away from him. “I’m sorry,” she said barely loud enough for him to hear.

  “Whatever could you have to be sorry for?” he demanded. “You have no control over when you have an attack.”

  “It’s not—I—” Kerensa shut her eyes and he could tell she was on the verge of crying. “I wish you hadn’t had to see that.”

  Alaric considered her for a while as she pulled herself together—morphing back to the Kerensa he’d met earlier. “We all have monsters,” he admitted faintly. “I believe the worst ones come out in the dark, when we are most vulnerable.”

  She froze, but didn’t look at him as she replied, “Then let me face mine. Alone.”

  Clearly that was his cue to leave, as much as he didn’t want to. But he understood. He’d said it because it was true.

  Possibly for her. Certainly for him.

  When he made no move to exit, she snarled, “Get. Out.”

  Alaric clenched his jaw and yielded to her wishes, stalking back towards the sitting room. He glimpsed Wynter leaning against the chair of her vanity and grabbed it on his way out.

  He was not looking forward to the next three months, nor the rest of his life.

  Chapter Five

  Lady Kerensa Na'labesc of Cebrev, formerly Wren Farley, watched Rava awaken from the balcony in her new rooms.

  A lady of Lithera’s court. How silly and outlandish it seemed—her, a noblewoman overnight. And to be engaged to none other than the Crown Prince.

  It was like a dream and a nightmare all wrapped in one.

  Wren sighed. She’d barely slept last night; the bed too soft, blankets too heavy, and her mind kept flashing between Cormac’s betrayal and the prince’s… Everything else. She’d ended up favouring the floor, much to her maid’s surprise this morning. Now, Dahlia—a middle-aged woman with honey blonde hair and jade eyes, a short stature and adorned in her lilac maid’s uniform—bustled about the room, picking up the pillow and sheet from last night spent on the floor and straightening the bed.

  “I heard the prince is engaged!”

  Wren turned her attention to the courtyard below her balcony, eavesdropping on the ladies emerging for their early morning strolls.

  “I heard he proposed to a young woman by the lake outside Evaleer. And that the girl isn’t even of noble blood!” Wren overheard one woman in a particularly ridiculous mint gown with frills and lace everywhere.

  She scoffed. It wasn’t quite so romantic, actually.

  “Well, I gleaned that she is a lady arriving here from Cebrev, the empire across the sea.” Wren peered over the side of the railing to glimpse three ladies gossiping and fanning themselves in the shade of her balcony. She rolled her eyes.

  The woman who had shared last was a fair-haired beauty indeed. Her white-blonde tresses sat in curls pinned at her nape, and her gown was a deep red with fine golden accents. Her waist was so small thanks to her corset that Wren wondered how she was able to draw breath.

  “What else do you know, Lady Ambria?” A girl in a soft orange gown asked the white-blonde lady.

  “Not much, I’m afraid,” the white-blonde woman—Ambria—admitted. “However, I’m sure the Crown Prince will be announcing his engagement soon.”

  “Do you think he’ll say something today?” the third woman inquired to the other.

  “Patience, girls,” Ambria remarked. “If you are to be a lady of the court, you must learn it.” Both girls shut their mouths immediately. Ambria was something of a role model to them, then. Talk of the prince and his mysterious betrothed between the noblewomen in the courtyard abruptly stopped, as if they’d all been listening to Ambria.

  Wren’s gaze slid back to the woman, heart jolting when she realized that Ambria had already pinned her with magnificent violet eyes. She smiled warmly, though Wren did her best to keep her own expression neutral.

  She had a feeling Ambria knew exactly who she was.

  Wren assumed it wasn’t especially difficult to count her the odd one out—no other women of Cebrevenese colouring resided in the castle. She hadn’t expected to ever have to deal with people like this in her life—ever since she was a child, Wren always thought she would live a quiet life in Forx. With Cormac.

  And when things…changed, she figured if the king ever got hold of her, he would do one of two things:

  Burn her.

  Or imprison her.

  She supposed she’d been right—for what was this palace and this so-called “marriage” but a glorified prison fabricated especially for her?

  Wren turned away from the courtyard below, leaving Ambria and the ladies behind as she strolled into her rooms. She walked over to her vanity and sat, examining the gilded hairbrush and cosmetics neatly organized on the surface. She picked up a pot of kohl.

  As a child, Wren had never had the luxury of powder to hide the dark circles under her eyes or pink dust to add colour to her cheeks. It hadn’t really been necessary, she supposed. Her mama had kept a small pot of kohl, though. Never had she let Wren or her sister anywhere near it. She’d rarely used it herself, only for incredibly special occasions.

  Wren put the kohl back in its place and stood from the vanity, glancing at herself momentarily in the mirror. She looked decent enough. Her hair was loose around her, and she had some colour in her cheeks, big, bright eyes looking back at her. Wren had wrestled her way into a gorgeous dark yellow dress with a V neckline and plenty of skirt, stubborn as she was. Dahlia had insisted that next time she wait for assistance, for the dress’ sake at least. She’d also supplicated that she put on a pair of prettily laced leather shoes upon discovering that she’d been barefoot until the maid had appeared from the servant’s entrance that morning.

  Before yesterday, Wren had never worn a dress of such splendour. Hells, she’d hardly ever worn a dress at all. But apparently it was a stipulation of the king’s that her closet should be supplied with nothing but the highest quality gowns.

  She was tempted to strangle herself with the fabrics just to teach His Majesty a lesson.

  His son, on the other hand… That was somehow an entirely different issue.

  Wren had a feeling deep, deep down that Prince Alaric would end up being the source of all her grievances.

  After just two—or three, counting their run-in in the city—interactions, she severely disliked him. He riled her like no one she’d ever met and seemed to enjoy doing it, not to mention that she was already keeping one of his secrets.

  It only made her wonder how many more he had. And how many he would keep from her if their marriage came to pass.

  She had three months. Three months to escape these gilded walls and get far away from anyone who would try to use or own her.

  Yesterday, she’d ended up lost in the castle corridors, wandering aimlessly and refusing to ask the guards watching her every move to guide her back to her rooms. She determined that she would need some time to have even a chance of getting away undetected.

  So far, she knew of only four people who were aware of her true identity: the King of Lithera, the two guards who’d taken them to the main hall, and Cormac—although he wouldn’t know that she was Kerensa now.

  And it all came down to the fact that the Crown Prince—her betrothed and future husband—was being kept in the dark.

  Wren could hardly stomach the thought of marrying someone who didn’t even know who she really was, so she didn’t allow herself to entertain the thought. As far as she was concerned, there was no chance the wedding could happen.

  She would make sure of it.

  Pushing back from the vanity, she stood up and left the bedroom, strolling through the next room to the door and placing a hand on the handle. When she opened it, Wren found someone waiting, knuckles poised in the air to knock.

  From her balcony, Wren had recognized that the woman was beautiful. But face-to-face, she could see that Ambria was so much more than that. With a fair complexion and rosy cheeks, her violet eyes drew immediate attention, the crimson dress a stark contrast. Pieces of her stunning hair fell perfectly around her diamond carved face, heart shaped lips smiling brightly, dimpling her right cheek.

  Wren arched a brow. “Yes…?”

  “It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance,” Ambria put forth, offering a small curtsy.

  Wren frowned in response, unsure how to react.

  Ambria brushed over it, continuing on, “I couldn’t help but notice you up here alone—understandably since I heard you only just arrived yesterday afternoon—but I wished to proffer my cordial friendship while you’re staying here.”

  Wren could do nothing but stare disconcertedly at her.

  A smile lit Ambria’s face. “I think we’re going to be really great friends.”

  Friends. Wren had never had another girl to spend time with, seeing as she grew up in a tiny village and already had Cormac.

  Maybe having one in the castle, for however short a time, wouldn’t be the end of the world.

  “I’m Kerensa,” she tried, hesitating over the false words.

  “Ambria Ellymae,” Ambria provided kindly.

  Wren smiled smally. “I think I would like to be your friend, Ambria.”

  “Wonderful,” she exclaimed, smile growing. “Would you like to walk with me?”

  Wren nodded, stepping out into the hall and closing the door behind her. Ambria hooked her arm through Wren’s, the gesture unexpected.

  Ambria didn’t seem to mind her dumbfounded stare, dragging her down the corridor. The guards at her door fell into place behind them. Ambria noticed, leaning in to whisper, “Do they follow you everywhere?”

  Wren sighed, “There’s always two.”

  “What about your own guards? From Cebrev?” she asked. “Where are they?”

  Non-existent. But Wren couldn’t admit to that. “I didn’t see a need for them.”

  Ambria shrugged. “Fair enough.”

  They walked on, footsteps echoing along the marble halls in tandem.

  “Have you met him yet?” Ambria prodded as though she couldn’t contain the question any longer.

  Wren rolled her eyes, knowing just who she was referring to. “Unfortunately.”

  Ambria laughed out loud, the sound like music. “I wonder how that went.”

  “Well, in half a day I’ve gathered that he’s trouble, irresponsible, can’t keep track of his own things, and most importantly he’s an insufferable prick.”

  “I’ll admit I agree with two of those points and I’ve known him my whole life.” Ambria looked at her out of the corner of her eye. “And the rumors of your engagement? They’re…true?”

  “In the eyes of the king,” Wren professed on an exhale.

  Ambria fell silent, gaze directed downward. It was a while before she spoke again. “I know something of being betrothed to someone without your knowledge nor consent. Luckily for me, the circumstances of my situation were drastically different from yours. But I do hope you’ll be able to find some ounce of happiness with our prince, Kerensa.”