Alaric had caught her.

  He leaned over and peered at her face, and her hands flew up to cover her flushed expression.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice reverberating in the air between them.

  Gods, his arms were cradling her. Is this really happening? “Please tell me I’m going to wake up in a few seconds,” she said, muffled by her palms.

  He whispered to her, “I’m too perfect to be real, am I?”

  Wren glared at him through her fingers. “In your dreams.”

  “Are you implying that you dream about me, Thief?” The corners of his lips lifted. “Tell me,” Alaric murmured, their faces inches apart, “am I everything you’d hoped for when you pictured me in your mind?” His breath tickled her skin, sending an involuntary shiver down her body.

  She was rendered momentarily speechless by him. This close, she could feel his heart racing next to hers, and she wondered if he really had no idea what he was doing. As far as the public knew, Prince Alaric had never been romantically involved with anyone—but that didn’t mean it was true. He was surrounded by young women at court, and not only was he a man, but a man with a desirable title and power. Arguably the most desirable title, second only to the King of Lithera. She imagined he could have anyone he wanted, and they’d be willing.

  It was hard to believe that someone like him would never take advantage of that.

  Finding her voice again, Wren said to him, “Yes, you’re exactly what I wanted. An entitled, conceited man with three years and plenty of strength on me who thinks I can be won over with a little charm and good looks.” Some glimmer she caught on his face made her add, “Don’t be like your father.”

  He said nothing as he gently set her on her feet, their gazes never breaking. His piercing eyes had a way of making her vulnerabilities feel exposed, laid bare for him and only him. She had to look away to seal all those things away again.

  “How do you do that?” His soft voice held her attention.

  “Do what…?”

  But Alaric shook his head and muttered a good night before leaving her standing alone in an empty courtyard in the dark.

  Chapter Seven

  This night is going to be a disaster.”

  Alaric stood with Gray in the ballroom, watching the noblemen and women arrive for the banquet the king had organized in honour of the prince and his betrothed.

  “For your sake, I hope not,” Gray empathized. He was on duty tonight, dressed in his formal purple and silver guard’s uniform.

  Alaric was just making his job easier by keeping close to the outskirts of the room near his post. “For mine and hers.” He was adorned in the lilac and green colours of House Bernthal, dark gray pants and a forest green tunic and cape lined with purple. His clothes were cut to fit his frame perfectly, and a small amethyst and silver crown was positioned on his head. “If she can’t behave for one night, my father is going to kill us both.”

  Purple and silver banners hung from the high ceiling, representing Lithera and its court. There was music floating through the room, and a space had been cleared for dancing. Tables were set up around the room, one for each noble house close to the long, elevated table at the back that was reserved for the royal family. Normally it was just Alaric and the King of Lithera seated up there, but tonight there was an extra chair.

  Gray shook his head in exasperation. “Staring at the door isn’t going to make her come any faster, you know.”

  “If she comes at all,” Alaric pointed out.

  “I thought she told you she was.”

  “No, Ambria told me she’d make sure she did,” he amended, “even if she had to drag her here.” The ballroom was brimming with voices and bodies as the last guests trickled in. He couldn’t see Bri or her husband anywhere.

  No doubt they were both trying to coax Kerensa out of her room.

  That should be me. The king had essentially made her his responsibility. And he wouldn’t back down from her temper.

  “I’m going to retrieve her.” He started to walk towards the exit, but Gray grabbed his arm, effectively bringing him to a halt.

  “Whatever happened to your unending patience? Just give her a minute,” Gray scolded lightly.

  “Give who a minute?” came the lovely voice of the violet-eyed woman sauntering up to them.

  Alaric hardly greeted Ambria before asking, “Where’s Kerensa?”

  “You’ll see.” That was it.

  Mateo Norwood made his way over next, wrapping his arms around Bri’s waist. “Luckily my wife knows all the right things to say.”

  Ambria beamed at her husband’s affection.

  Theirs had been an arranged marriage, but Mateo and Ambria had been childhood friends before that. When Ambria had discovered her parents were marrying her off to him, though, she was furious. Alaric remembered the day she arrived at Farrador Castle looking a mess, searching for a friend to confide in. He’d been there to help her see that Mateo was not to blame—he hadn’t known anything either. And that this change couldn’t ruin the companionship that they’d already cherished. After those explosive events, the couple easily fell into one another, and now—nearly a year into their marriage—they were more in love than Alaric had ever thought possible.

  His hand clenched and unclenched at his side restlessly. “What’s taking her so long?”

  “Wow,” Bri gasped.

  “I never thought it could happen,” Gray put in.

  Mateo just chuckled and shook his head, snow white hair falling in his face. “You’re nervous.”

  “For someone other than yourself,” added Bri, a smile brightening her features.

  Alaric rolled his eyes at all of them. “That’s not what I—”

  Silence befell the entire ballroom as the doors yawned open at the top at the stairs and a startling flame emerged.

  He had no words for her gown—beautiful didn’t seem strong enough. It was fire and feathers and blood. Kerensa wore a massive red dress, the fabric trailing all around her, flames curving up her skirt, torso, and over her right shoulder. Feathers were stitched along her bust and the pleats of the skirt, a strange statement Alaric couldn’t begin to understand. Her long hair was intricately braided down her back, a small gold tiara resting on her head.

  From this distance, she looked only slightly terrified.

  Alaric was moving toward her before he realized he was staring. It was hard not to. The crowd of Lithian nobility was frozen, facing Kerensa in shocked silence. He had no idea what about his betrothal had become public and what hadn’t—whether they were gaping because she was Cebrevenese or simply because she was marrying him. Either way, he ignored them and only stopped when he was at the bottom of the stairs. Her stare intimidated him a little, but he still saw the kernel of fear in her eyes, the slight trembling of her hands at her sides. He bowed, low, and this time, she curtsied in return, if a bit gracelessly. Alaric stifled the urge to laugh, placing one foot on the last stair and extending his hand in an offer she’d be stupid to refuse.

  And if there was one thing he’d learned about Kerensa thus far, it was that while she may be the most stubborn creature in the world, she was not stupid.

  She carefully descended the steps, and Alaric found himself unable to look away as she neared him.

  Then she stumbled on the third last step, tripping forward into him and throwing them both to the polished floors, Kerensa landing on top of him.

  Gasps arose from the onlookers, but he couldn’t have cared less about their audience. “We really must work on the whole ‘meeting head-on’ act we have coined,” he groaned, tilting his chin down to glimpse her expression.

  To his surprise, Kerensa appeared like she was trying to hide her smirk. “I think it’s you who really needs to stop falling for me, Prince.”

  His mouth dropped open. “Did you just steal my line, Thief?”

  One of her shoulders raised in a shrug, a lightness twinkling in her eyes he hadn’t seen before. “Among other things.”

  People rushed forward to help them up and ensure they were unharmed, efficiently bursting the small bubble of space they’d created for themselves.

  She pushed off of him, struggling to get her feet back underneath her in that dress. Alaric put his hands on her hips and lifted them both to standing, setting Kerensa down gently. He bent down to look her in the eye when he asked, “Are you okay?”

  Her gaze darted across his face. “You need to stop asking me that,” she said, only loud enough for him to hear.

  Mouth tightening, he turned away from her for a moment, motioning for the music to recommence and pausing to thoroughly diffuse the concerns of the crowd. It didn’t take more than a smile and a convincing word to satisfy them enough to return to mingling, meaning Alaric could return his attention to Kerensa.

  He’d imagined her eyes would narrow in on him, but when he turned back around it was to find that she was glancing all over the room, giving away her uncertainty at being here. It concerned him that she was nervous at all, a clear contrast from her personality when it was just the two of them.

  Before she could protest, he sidled up to her side and brought her arm up to lay atop his reverentially. She tried to jerk away, but Alaric placed a firm hand on hers and leaned in close to her ear. Wisps of her hair grazed his skin, and it was like his world stopped on its axis when she stilled. “We’ll get through this,” he admitted softly, “but we have to do it together.”

  Her searing stare cut to his like a challenge. One that Alaric would never back down from.

  Kerensa looked away first. “Don’t let me fall,” was all she answered with.

  He took those words for more than just their literal meaning. I won’t let you fall.

  Side by side, they made their way around the ballroom, Alaric introducing Kerensa to the Lithian nobility. Many of them made subtle digs at her ethnicity, and as much as he would have liked to call them out, she ignored them—so he did, too.

  These were the people he was forced to tolerate, the people who hardly tolerated him. In broad daylight, the nobles treated him with the respect his title was owed. Behind his back, though, he had no doubt they questioned everything he did and stood for.

  There weren’t many things every Lithian agreed on—but they all managed to assent that Alaric needed a wife.

  And then they weren’t satisfied with the wife chosen for him.

  Would this be his entire life when he became king? Running around trying to appease people who refused to be appeased?

  His father didn’t seem to have that problem. But his father didn’t seem to care all that much what his court thought of his decisions.

  Not that any of them were openly unhappy. In fact, Alaric would remark that most of them were quite content in their way of living.

  Nonetheless, the nobles weren’t the only people Alaric had to think about. Outside the castle walls he wasn’t technically allowed to leave, there was a city full of civilians he walked through nearly every week. And beyond Evaleer, an entire continent that was looking to him for a future.

  Those people had never lived his life, and he hardly knew anything about theirs. These standards of life felt like two completely different worlds in his mind.

  And he had no idea how to link them as one.

  Alaric relaxed as soon as he and Kerensa came back to the group he’d abandoned, Gray standing with one hand on the hilt of his Guard-issued sword, and Ambria with Mateo on her arm, smiling as they approached.

  “Allow me to formally introduce Lord Mateo Norwood of High House Norwood and his wife, Lady Ambria Ellymae of High House Ellymae, as well as Lieutenant Gray Zarin of the Crown Prince’s Guard,” Alaric affirmed, gesturing between them and Kerensa.

  She appraised Gray and noted, “Isn’t Zarin a noble House?”

  They all waited for him to answer.

  Gray cringed. “That would be correct, milady.”

  Kerensa nodded, “Then I admire your choices.”

  Gray shot Alaric a stunned look, mimicking his thoughts. He forgot that life in Cebrev was much different from Lithera—especially for a woman. A person was not stuck in the way of living they were born into, no matter the title.

  Even the title of prince.

  Alaric didn’t want to watch Kerensa lose those beliefs if she married him and was stuck in his world for as long as they both should live.

  “Have you been adjusting well?” Mateo asked politely.

  For a moment, Alaric was afraid she would say no. But when she opened her mouth, she replied, “I would say so, yes. Though some things could’ve gone better.” He was sure she was referring to her entrance, though not as sure she wasn’t lying about the first part.

  “We’ll see to it that next time you stay upright,” Ambria offered. “By the time you’re walking down the aisle, you won’t so much as stumble once.”

  Alaric tensed at the mention of the impending wedding, Kerensa doing the same beside him.

  Ambria glanced between the two of them, not missing a beat. “You do realize you’re both going to have to get over yourselves eventually, preferably in the next few months.”

  “Give us the few months,” Alaric drawled, tilting his head. “Then maybe I’ll have a change in heart.”

  “No promises,” Kerensa scoffed.

  “Trust me, you should have seen the way he looked at you when you walked in.” Bri winked, and Alaric turned scarlet with a groan. “What? None of us are responsible for our hearts, Ric,” she said to him, but her gaze was fixed on Mateo as the words left her mouth.

  He pressed his lips to her temple. “I do believe we have our own rounds to make, darling.”

  She sighed. “Of course. If you’ll excuse us,” Ambria requested, her and Mateo departing with a bow and a smile, lavender gown swishing behind her.

  “I have to report to Captain Larcyn as well.” Gray bowed out with a sheepish grin directed at Alaric.

  Leaving him and Kerensa standing placidly next to one another, arm-in-arm. He decided to be the first to break the silence.

  “You look stunning. By the way.”

  Kerensa harrumphed, annoyed.

  He didn’t push her. He didn’t dare. Alaric was pretty sure he would prefer the heavy quiet between them than face her fiery temper.

  He understood. He really did. Kerensa wanted to hate him.

  But that doesn’t mean I want her to.

  ༺═──────────────═༻

  Time passed in a blur.

  Wren—as the honoured guest and betrothed of the Crown Prince—was forced to socialize and make pretty conversation all night. She was asked multiple times how Lithian customs compared to those she was inured with, but—seeing as she had never actually been to the empire west of Lithera—she lied on many occasions, saying things like, “It’s all so much more proper than anything I’ve experienced at home,” or “It will take a while to grow used to the food and the culture.” She couldn’t tell if the nobles were satisfied with her answers.

  Though she hated the talking, she had to admit the attention from the conversation was better than attention from dancing. She made sure to steer clear of that space all evening, refusing Alaric’s attempts to pull her into the spinning, dipping, and swinging.

  Speaking of the prince, he never left her side. While it made her unhappy to have him so close the whole night, she was grateful to not have been left alone to accept the congratulations of the nobles.

  She certainly wasn’t feeling very congratulatory.

  Lady Ambria had lingered near them most of the time. And where she went, her husband trailed. Wren didn’t mind the couple—Ambria had proven to be incredibly supportive of Kerensa and informative about the goings-on of the court, while Mateo was a demure but welcoming presence. She could see exactly what attracted them to each other, though she didn’t know their whole story.

  Now, Wren sat before the whole court, on Alaric’s left side at the table reserved for the Bernthals. On his right side seated on the grand centre chair was the King of Lithera, resplendent in finery, his large silver and amethyst crown atop his ash blond hair. On the table before them was an array of dishes, ranging from meats to fancy vegetables and fruits to sauces and soups. Everything here was much finer than anything Wren had ever seen. Then again, she expected no less from privileged royalty and nobility.

  The king clinked his spoon against his glass to gather the attention of the Court. “Esteemed Houses!” he exclaimed, rising from his high-backed chair. He opened his arms to encompass the room. “We are overjoyed that you were able to come out tonight to celebrate the arrival of Kerensa Na'labesc to our court. My son especially appreciates your enthusiasm in welcoming his betrothed to life here at Farrador Castle.” At this, the king paused to grin at Alaric. His returning smile was cold, the prince’s hand fisting on the table. She didn’t know what made her do it, but Wren placed her hand over top of his fist, giving him a questioning look. He glanced almost apologetically at her, flattening his hand once more. After a moment when she didn’t pull her hand away, Alaric flipped his and laced their fingers together. They both stared intently at their intertwined hands for a beat before turning their collective attention back to the King of Lithera. He had stopped his speech briefly to study the two of them through narrowed eyes. She knew he would not forget this show of unity between them. The thought made her smug.

  The king looked back to the room full of nobility, resuming his parlance. Wren stopped listening to him to examine the nobles sat at their individual tables.

  There were nine Houses in total, including that of the royal family—five High Houses and four minor Houses. Wren could only name a few; High House Ellymae, High House Norwood, High House Rosenar, House Zarin, and of course High House Bernthal. The other four she couldn’t remember.