Prince of Lies [COMPLETED]

Chapter 51

The betrothal dinner was a grand affair. Extravagant flower garlands hung from every pillar and chandelier of the Great Hall, soft-colored silks and creams decorating every surface. It all looked so lovely now, but Frederick could never forget the cruel amusements these walls housed in Saebane's month of bloodshed. He didn't know if he would ever be able to return to this place without being able to think about it. Of Oron. Of Marcon. Viscon. Gheorge. The Spiderweb. So many had suffered, and the pain of it seemed to still be echoing through the stone.

Saebane's short time here had well and truly left a stain that could never be washed away.

Frederick and his fiancée sat next to each other on the dais and dined, none of them daring to utter a word. Where the days had dragged their feet before, the week to the wedding sprinted by. Between political meetings, decisions for the ceremony, and courting Eviylene, Saebane hardly gave Frederick any chance to think.

But Eviylene must have wondered what his grand plan was, waiting for him to deliver her from this just as he promised he would. The truth of the matter remained that there was no plan. Eviylene's freedom rested on whether he could speak to Tessande alone, and she never came to visit in his room as he'd hoped. He would have to find her in the castle and speak to her tonight or else ... there was nothing else.

He would find her tonight no matter what.

The hall exploded with applause, signaling the end of the next toast before the commencement of the next, and the sudden sound caused Eviylene to startle in her seat.

Frederick reached for her hand and squeezed. "It's going to be all right, you know."

The corners of her lips twitched into an attempted smile. "I know. I believe you."

"You just try to relax tonight. Tomorrow, it will all be over," he said, offering her an expression he hoped was warm and reassuring.

Her shoulders relaxed. "Thank you for everything. You have been so kind to me."

"It's been my pleasure, Princess. It is I who should be thanking you for all our pleasant walks, meals, and conversations. Getting to know you has been a joy."

She blushed, causing her freckles to appear even darker against her skin, and he gave her hand a final squeeze before letting go. He made the mistake then of glancing at Arabella, finding her gaze fixed on the space their hands had been joined.

"Just look at them," Saebane called, elbowing Urnald. "Now that's a handsome pairing. I should be commended on my taste in matchmaking."

"Quite right," Urnald agreed, but there was something strained about his manner. His words. Frederick knew the man too well to believe he was truly all right, but he didn't have the luxury of caring. Urnald had created a huge portion of this calamity. He didn't get the liberty of feeling sick about it now.

"It used to be customary for the men to have a celebration the night before," Rathmore said. "The best nights I've ever had have been at the attendance of the Bachelor's Traditions of the kings gone past."

Frederick almost slammed his cutlery down with disgust. He could only imagine the atrocities Rathmore had committed on evenings such as those.

Saebane grinned. "That's right—don't you Thescanians have some tradition you must honor?"

Urnald cleared his throat. "We do, but we decided not to have such a celebration tonight so soon after the passing of the Gentle King. The people might take it as an insult."

"The man had it coming to him," Saebane said. "The world should be glad to be rid of him."

"And you are right, of course," Frederick injected smoothly, "but in matters of appearances, my father is the absolute best. So there will be no Bachelor's Tradition. And to be honest, I'm still quite exhausted from the last one."