White Rook
Page 7
The large doors were thrown open, the inside lit so brightly it resembled a sunny afternoon. As it was, the entrance should have appeared inviting, but it made me think of the open maw of a mad hound ready to swallow me down its fiery throat.
I counted my steps as I went, catching glimpses of conversation.
“You look dashing tonight, Lord Hillgem,” a woman in a turquoise gown said. Her mask was on a stick, and she pulled it away constantly to reveal her regal features. My own mask had a lace tie that was secured with a tight knot behind my head. I wouldn’t risk losing my mask and being recognized by the king.
“You, too, my dear,” the man at her side responded.
The outside stone floor switched to marble as I crossed the threshold. The foyer was grand and adorned by many paintings, but I barely had time to pay much attention as the guests filed up a grand staircase, carrying me along with the flow.
Before long, I found myself in a large dance hall, couples twirling, onlookers standing around, conversing and drinking wine from tall glasses. There was a string orchestra to the side, playing a familiar tune. Colorful gowns twirled, dazzling me. It seemed my eyes had grown used to seeing only white.
I stood to the side, feeling utterly out of place. At all the balls I’d ever attended, I’d been well known, my presence appreciated by hosts and guests alike.
Here, I was nobody.
Still, I didn’t go unnoticed, and after a brief moment, I found myself accosted by several young men wishing to get their names on my dance card.
CHAPTER 16
Even after four months without attending any balls, the dance steps came back to me without effort.
By now, I was on my fifth dance and had grown familiar with the layout of the room. I had also found out from my previous dance partner that the King would make an appearance at some point. There was a dais at the end of the ballroom where a throne awaited for his arrival. My blood ran cold like a river in winter, but I did my best to act warmly toward my dance partners.
“What is your name?” my current dance partner asked. “Do I know you?” He sounded very intrigued, just like the other four men I’d already met.
“Maybe you do. Maybe you don’t,” I said in a flirtatious tone.
Suddenly, something in the air seemed to change. I stiffened, my eyes roving around, searching for the reason for my abrupt alertness.
That’s when I spotted him, watching me with such intensity that a shiver traveled up my arms. My gaze locked with his, and a small gasp escaped me as I recognized him.
Nyro.
Immediately, he cut a straight path in my direction, squeezing by dancing couples until he reached us. He was wearing his black uniform and simple black mask to match.
He tapped my partner on the shoulder. “May I?” he asked with a small bow.
Next I knew, I was in Nyro’s strong arms as he led me confidently through the waltz.
“What are you doing here?” he whispered in my ear.
I pushed away with a hand against his solid chest. “It’s good to see you, Nyro.” I smiled but sent a warning with my eyes. What was he thinking? We needed to be careful about what we said.
“It’s good to see you as well,” he said, getting my meaning.
“Um, I see you’re Fourth Pawn, now,” I said, casting for a topic of conversation that was acceptable.
I touched the insignia on his jacket—four bars under the figure of a Pawn. He had survived being a Challenger, and I found that the fact made me very glad.
“Have you been here long?” he asked.
“A half hour, perhaps,” I said. “It’s a marvelous party.”
“Are you still... ?” He stopped, but I understood what he’d been about to ask.
I nodded and glanced toward his Pawn insignia. He wanted to know if I was still part of the White Board, and this was the only way I could think of letting him know I was. We said nothing for a moment. As we danced quietly, his warmth seemed to surround me, and I felt oddly comforted and safe as if I’d been transported away from the Black Palace.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered in her ear.
I looked at his face, his lips quickly capturing my attention. They were full and tempting.
“Thank you, Nyro,” I said, savoring his name.
He pulled me closer, our noses nearly touching. I fell into his dark eyes and would have tumbled if not for his fierce embrace. Suddenly I wanted to remove his mask so I could see his face without any obstruction.
What are you doing, Bianca? the cautious side of me asked.
Nyro was not the reason for my presence here. I couldn’t lose my focus because of a man, no matter how handsome.
“I’m looking for someone,” I whispered, reining in my emotions.
He shook his head, his eyes darting toward the exit as if to say we shouldn’t talk in here. Did he know something?
He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again.
A hush had fallen over the guests. The sound of the music had grown dim. Everyone had stopped dancing.
I glanced up and quickly saw the reason for the change. King Maximus had just entered the room, Talyssa—my dear, dear Talyssa—on his arm.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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Also by Ingrid Seymour
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Watch for more at Ingrid Seymour’s site.
About the Author
Ingrid Seymour is the author of Ignite The Shadows (Harper Voyager, August 2015). When she's not writing books, she spends her time cooking exotic recipes, hanging out with her family and working out. She writes young adult and new adult fiction in a variety of genres, including Sci-Fi, urban fantasy, romance, paranormal and horror. Her favorite outings involve a trip to the library or bookstore where she immediately gravitates toward the YA section. She's an avid reader and fangirl of many amazing books. She is a dreamer and a fighter who believes perseverance and hard work can make dreams come true. She lives in Birmingham, AL with her husband, two kids and a cat named Ossie.