HEIR | The Cursed Monarchy | Book 1

Emergence: Part I, Chapter 1

The last item on the prince's list was a pair of leather boots, and her uncle couldn't resist the urge to step out. "Please, accept a glass of sweet wine while I fetch the shoemaker," he said, offering the prince a high stool to rest on. "Oh, and, mind my Little Dove. It took me all afternoon to coax the bird down here."

Cecily felt her cheeks grow warm. How long would he insist on calling her that silly name? Though she imagined he meant it not too unkindly, more worried about his wagers as he hurried himself out the door, dangling a cigarette between his lips, she resented how childish it was.

When her uncle disappeared through the threshold, Cecily rose stiffly, intent on retreating to the cellar.

Daire rose, too, which gave her steps pause. He stood facing the street, watching through the window as her uncle disappeared behind his black carriage, Daire casually leaned a shoulder against a pillar. His coachman, in black livery to match, busied himself with the two sleek bays that waited impatiently to depart, leaving the dusty streets of Maydale behind them. The prince then turned away from the window, placed his hands in his pockets, and looked about the parlor.

What must he think of us, thought Cecily. The shop was in such a state. The ceiling was hung with half-finished men's suits; the seams we're roughly marked with orange thread and chalk. Two low stools were beside a cutting table where her uncle would work on garments. But she noted that Daire's eye was drawn to one item in particular. A smart black case, half-opened to reveal a thick, woolen cloak with Imrath's ensign. He reached out to retrieve it. Suddenly, like a switch, a surge of warmth escaped her body. She hadn't called upon it – it just came out, as though it had a mind of its own. When the warmth left her, the case shut on its own. Perhaps it was a coincidence, or exquisite timing.

Daire turned his head to look at her. The look that flashed through his eyes was startled, but only for an instant. Cecily was struck once more by his beauty. It was an odd sort of beauty – there was something she couldn't place about his features. But of course, she reminded herself, immortal men were beautiful by nature. His lips, thin and tempting, were slightly parted in wonder. Her gaze wanted to plunge downward, looking for more contours to trace, but with great resolve, she managed to guide her curiosity elsewhere. She looked into his eyes instead – an alarming emerald green storm was staring back at her.

She looked down at the floor the instant his gaze met hers, but she couldn't conceal the blush that started at her chest and blossomed all the way up to her cheeks. She didn't mean to shut the case, it was just that her nerves were on edge, and it belonged to a close friend of her mother's – oh, what would her uncle do if he were to find out? The thought made her eyes swell with tears.

"Ah, there's a pretty raven." He moved a step closer. His body still turned away, so that he was looking over his shoulder at her. Yet, his voice was quiet. "What is it that vexes you so?"

"I assure you it's nothing, Your Grace. I'm just fine," she lied, knowing she hadn't had the time to consider whether or not that notion could be true. "I'm so sorry." She betrayed a slight gesture of surprise upon seeing him approach, but dared not raise her gaze.

"Is that yours?"

She looked down at her feet, where a scrap of embroidery lay draped over her right shoe. It was hers and the white needlework was gradually graying with the dust from the shop's floor.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, nearly breathless. She bent down, grabbed it, and cursed herself again for not tidying up that morning.

Daire grinned sheepishly, and she realized that in addition to the black hair and emerald eyes, he possessed high cheekbones and a striking smile. "May I?"