High-ranking officers and royal guards display their finest uniforms. A lively fiddler's jig carries under the rowdy banter and laughter. A cluster of elegant women, silk skirts merging like petals of an exotic flower, sip from stemmed glasses. Servers deck the long tables with gravy-dripped meats, caramelised vegetables, steaming ceramic pots of beans and root plants.
The Duchess draws my halting body forward. I am in the banquet hall of the King's only brother! A pulse of energy quickens my heartbeat and a smile flutters across my lips.
My cheeks are flushed from drinking, and from the men's glances at my bare neck and tight bodice. But another surge of heat flares in my chest when I catch sight of the Prince.
He stands with the Duke. His hair has been trimmed, lending him a military air. A moss-green doublet lightens his eyes and accentuates his muscled shoulders. For the first time, I truly understand I am looking at a warrior prince, trained from the age of eight in the King's gruelling military program. Quick enough to disarm Tug. Strong and swift enough to kill five soldiers.
My footsteps grind to a halt but the Duchess whispers encouragement and urges me forward. At least awkwardness and distrust are not something I will need to fake. As I dip a curtsey, a servant blows a horn to hush the crowd.
"Let us celebrate Prince Jakut's arrival among us and his good health!" the Duke announces.
An approving cheer fills the hall. The Duchess watches sympathetically as I am forced to sit beside my lying suitor. At the far end of our table, Brin and Tug mingle with a group of officers. Brin slaps one on the back, chuckling loudly. Ale slops from his tankard. Tug's disapproving gaze slides to our end of the table. In response, Duchess Elise moves closer to her husband, rests her hand on his.
A server fills our glasses.
"Your beauty rivals the Duchess's," the Prince murmurs in my ear. I snort and accept the offer of wine. "You don't drink, Mirra." The light warning in his tone is clear. Better we keep our wits about us.
A voice in the back of my mind agrees, but tonight I want him to fear my recklessness. I have no idea what he is capable of, and I want him to feel a little of the spine-prickling uncertainty in return.
"You are not my husband, Your Royal Highness," I say raising my glass and tilting it to his health.
He smiles unnaturally. "So, you have been talking with the Duchess." He enunciates his words for his aunt and uncle on the opposite side of the table to hear. "It always amazes me what two women who are not acquainted and share nothing in common find to discuss."
I lean closer, so only a warm breath separates my lips from his smooth neck. "Perhaps you lack imagination," I say. His composure slips in the slight pursing of his lips. Satisfaction worms through me. Two can play at his game. My crooked smile widens. The Duke throws an askance glance at his wife. She whispers a quick word in his ear.
"What are you doing?" Jakut says. I tilt my face close enough to detect the peppermint on his breath. His full wine glass goes untouched. He is not drinking.
"Am I making you uncomfortable?"
"Did you take wine with the Duchess?"
"Indeed," I say.
"Then perhaps you should slow down. A lady does not get drunk." The Prince stabs his fork into a meat platter, takes a large slice and slaps it on my plate.
"And where is Deadran?" the Duke enquires. "Does he not join us tonight?"
"Our journey here was not easy for him. I hope you will not be offended, but I gave him permission to take supper in his room. It is difficult for him to be around so many."
"How considerate," I mutter.
"It is well advised," the Duke says. I cut my meat the way Deadran has taught me using a knife and fork.
As conversation turns to the Etean war, the wine sours on my palate. I roll my tongue over strange new flavours, chew slowly to appreciate the foreign textures and forms. But the alcohol fuzz in my head is dulling my senses. The loud table conversation and memories slipping and sliding from my inner-eye, are a constant irritation.
"Excuse me, Your Grace," I say once the Duchess has finished asking me about the court of Delladea, "I must get some air." I rise from my chair. The Duke, Prince and nearest royal officers get to their feet.
"Would you like me to ask—" Jakut's voice fades as I cross the banquet hall. More than one set of eyes follow me to the open double doors. In the night's darkness, I pull at the strings of my bodice. A damp, brackish odour drifts on the breeze. It is the only hint water lies beyond the fort's endless walls. I am standing on a long veranda, which stretches the length of the building. I lay my hands on the railing and close my eyes, welcoming the slap of cold.
Footsteps clip over the wooden veranda slats. The Prince, or Tug or a guard. I do not care much whom.
"That was quite something."
So it is the Prince.
"You were supposed to bring your betrothed Princess of Rudeash back from the north. And according to the Duchess you have a mistress."
The Prince remains silent for so long, I turn, curious to see what he is doing. He stares at the full, speckled yellow moon. I look left and right and see a stairway twisting to a second-floor balcony. "Perhaps we can see the lake from up there," I say, lifting my skirt and heading for it. The steep steps wind around and around. I arrive at the top breathless from the chill in my chest and throat, the sudden exertion, and the wine.
A guard emerges below. He watches Jakut climb to join me. From here, beyond the main gates where the jetty draws a crooked line through ice-cracked water, a pale trail of moonlight shimmers on the crystallized surface.
"The Duchess wants me to discover why you did not return with the princess. She thinks it may be related to the attack on your escort."
The Prince faces the view and leans his elbows on the balcony rail. "My destiny is bound to a girl I have never met," he says wistfully.
"You were promised to her when you were fourteen."
"Deadran is no longer tied to the Ruby Court but he would hear of this. He should have told me." He turns, spine pressed to the rail. His expression alters. A minuscule frown creases the gap between his brows. "You think I knew?" he says, crossing his arms. "It is my lack of memories that makes it so hard for you to trust me, isn't it?"
I do not answer. "I suppose Deadran may not know the reason for your trip to the north. Your betrothed is too young for marriage. Your father pressed the union because of your mistress."
"So Duchess Elise has warned you my intentions are fleeting and insincere."
"And tonight I have behaved accordingly."
He nods. "Very well. We must speak with Deadran. Wait for me downstairs. I will excuse us to our host and hostess, say you are unwell and I am escorting you back to your chambers."
Two guards walk us through the quiet fort. Four others follow at a distance. Once we enter the circular courtyard surrounding the royal guest tower the Prince instructs our official guards to wait for him outside.
Deadran's room lies past mine at the end of the corridor. The Prince knocks on the door, but after a third try it is clear we will not receive an answer.
"He sleeps soundly."
"You should return to the banquet," I say. "I will retire and we will speak with Deadran in the morning." He nods and we return to my chamber door. I open it with a wrought silver key slipped into the miniature pocket at the waist of my dress.
"Mirra..."
"Good night, Your Royal Highness." I start to close the door but he presses his palm to hold it.
"You think I am responsible for the disappearance of five men from my escort?"
I lower my head and nip the inner side of my cheek.
"You think I sanctioned those five men to attack my own escort, and then I personally murdered those who assisted my treachery? For what? A mistress? To avoid my duties as heir to the throne? In my bones and my blood I know I could not be such a man."
"Why do you care what I think? I'm Uru Ana. Outlawed, captured, burned, murdered and enslaved by your grandfather. Your father, King Alixter has done nothing to change the hate and fear Carucans harbour towards my kind. Nothing to stop the mercenaries from hunting us down like wild beasts and selling us to lawless criminals for their own sadistic games. What would make you different? The only reason you insist on this misplaced notion of friendship is because I do not see inside your head. But your memories will return. With time the fog of the mist berry cleansing will rise and clear, and the truth will be shown to us both. You do not need me to tell you what sort of man you are."
He pales. Our eyes catch like snarled hooks. A ball of saliva lodges in my throat. I have gone too far. Trembling begins as a low hum in my legs. I am unable to swallow, unable to break his gaze. He needs me. He won't do anything. He needs me too much. But I regret my words at once.
After a moment frozen in eternity, the Prince turns stiffly, and I find myself alone, blinking into darkness.
As always, thank you so much for being here. I appreciate it :) Hope you liked the chapter! Next chapter will be posted on Tuesday.