by K. A. Linde
If Cyrene didn’t see the sneer cross Prince Kael’s face, she would never have believed it were there when he addressed King Edric.
Prince Kale’s demeanor seamlessly shifted into an aloof front with a mocking smile. “How could I not steal the attention of such a beautiful woman?”
“I certainly cannot blame you.”
She hastily took a sip of her wine to avoid the heated gazes of the men staring down upon her. Her heart was still thumping from the dance, and the magnetic pull she felt from both of them kept her even more off balance. How did I end up between the two most powerful men in the kingdom?
“You are quite the dancer, Cyrene,” King Edric said with a mischievous glint in his eye.
“You flatter. My dance skills are perfectly adequate.”
“On the contrary, you and my brother ignited the floor.” His gaze shifted from her to Prince Kael, who was hiding a steely glare behind his own blue-gray eyes.
“I thank you very much. However, I must give credit where credit is due.” She lightly laid her hand against Prince Kael’s shirtsleeve and smiled at both men.
“Then, perhaps you will allow me to show you the steps of a king.” King Edric held his hand out for her.
Cyrene slowly removed her hand from Prince Kael and placed it in King Edric’s. Her throat tightened. She was about to dance with the King of Byern. She couldn’t believe it.
Affiliates associated with the queen and consort on a regular basis. But the king?
King Edric turned his attention back to his brother. “Kael, I do hope you would do Queen Kaliana the same honor you bestowed upon Affiliate Cyrene and entertain us with the next dance.”
Prince Kael nodded, his jaw set. “Of course,” he said with a stiff bow. He strode across the room to where the Queen stood, surrounded by a cluster of brown-nosing Affiliates.
“After you,” King Edric said.
Two columns of dancers formed in the center of the floor, men on one side and women on the other. King Edric took the head of one, and Cyrene fell into place across from him. Queen Kaliana placed herself opposite Prince Kael on the other end. Cyrene tore her gaze away from the other dancers and laid her eyes on the man—the King—standing before her.
King Edric snapped his fingers at the string quartet, and they immediately straightened, drawing their bows.
Violinists seductively strummed the opening chords of “Cat’s Cradle,” and men bowed as the women demurely curtsied. The dance was intricate with elaborate weaving patterns, opening and closing circles, and partners swapping at specific times.
The King seemed much at ease with the steps as he flawlessly led her through the first weave.
“You’re wearing that color again,” King Edric said.
“I thought you quite liked it.”
“Have your eyes failed you tonight?” He twirled her around another couple.
“What could you possibly mean?”
“I’ve told you once before that no one wears such a color in my court.” He eyed the cut of the dress rather deliberately.
“I guess I will have to return the commission I ordered today.” She knew she had to act quickly as the time in the dance where she would be swept from person to person was approaching, and then it would be over. “I informed my seamstress of your affection for the color, and she redid my entire wardrobe in the bright hues, My King.” Or at least, she would do so when she left.
King Edric looked down upon her face, his expression as near to shock as Cyrene had ever seen on him. He recovered swiftly, clearly determined to set her straight on his opinion about her attire, but at that moment, she was pushed into the arms of a member of the High Order. As she was carried from person to person throughout the dance, she hardly remembered their names. Some of the men were simply adequate, and others spun her in circles that made her neck ache while one or two more were nearly on par with King Edric and Prince Kael—though certainly no one would suggest it.
A moment later, she was thrust back into the King’s arms, and she smirked up at him.
“You really do wear that smirk all the time, don’t you?”
“I said I did at my Presenting. Are you inferring that I would lie to Your Majesty?”
“No more than your insinuation for having an affinity for the weather,” he countered.
Cyrene almost laughed. She had been joking of course when she had told the King that Elea thought Cyrene could predict the weather.
As the music changed, they filed back into the two lines in which the couples had initially stood. She dropped her curtsy to the men’s side, and the King nodded in acknowledgment. The dancers broke off and returned to the circle of friends they had left behind.
King Edric approached her once more with a smile for the watching courtiers. “A fine dance, Affiliate Cyrene,” he complimented openly.
“You do me a great honor.” She tilted her head in acceptance of his praise.
“I do wish you good luck in your training tomorrow.”
“With your blessing, I am certain I will do all I can for Byern,” she murmured.
He stared at her thoughtfully for a second before he turned and strode away to his Consort. Cyrene had no idea how she had garnered this much attention or what it all meant.
With the crowd’s eyes hot on her face, Cyrene promptly exited the dance floor. Retrieving a glass of wine from a passing waiter, she searched out the family she had all but forgotten after Prince Kael’s request to dance. She could pick Reeve’s towering figure out of any crowd, and she seamlessly maneuvered around the ballroom to his side.
“Cyrene,” Reeve boasted, throwing an arm around her.
He staggered forward against her, and he reeked of alcohol. She had never seen her brother in such a state before.
“Hello, Reeve.”
“Congratulations again, little sister.”
“Thank you.”
She glanced around at the array of men standing before him. All of them wore the Dremylon crest on their chests.
“Let me kindly introduce you to my good men of the High Order—Brayan, Surien, Rhys, and Clovis.” He pointed out each man as he called each one by name. “Gentlemen, meet my sister and now Affiliate Cyrene.”
The level of intoxication among the mix was on a level that she didn’t even deem worthy of a curtsy.
“Pleasure is ours, Affiliate.” Rhys dipped slightly at the waist.
“Thank you,” she said, trying to remember her manners and not his demanding looks.
“Have any of you heard from Zorian?” Clovis asked. “He was supposed to be back for your sister’s Presenting.”
“I haven’t heard from him.” Brayan took a swig from his mug.
“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” Reeve said.
“Yeah, he told me he would be in from Carhara,” Surien confirmed.
“Must have ended up with one of those Carharan women. I’ve heard the ones in the capital city work you—” Rhys began.
Reeve smacked Rhys on the chest and threw his head in Cyrene’s direction. The weight of the men’s gazes landed on her, and she tried not to feel vulnerable in their midst. Something in their nature reminded her of a pack of wolves stalking their prey.
Cyrene searched for a way to exit the conversation. She didn’t know this Zorian, nor did she have any interest in hearing about his adventures with Carharan women.
“Have you seen Aralyn?” she asked Reeve.
“Aralyn?” Reeve asked in disbelief
Reeve’s friends laughed at the suggestion.
“What would anyone want with that prude?” Clovis asked.
Rhys chortled drunkenly next to him. “I could think of a few things.”
Reeve shook his head, but he was laughing at his friends’ indecency. “I don’t know, Cyrene. The ice queen sticks to her Ambassadorial snow castle in Kell. She probably has her nose in a book somewhere.”
Reeve might as well have punched Cyrene in the stomach. How could he speak in such a ma
nner about their sister and let his friends laugh at her? They had always had their differences since Reeve was older, more boisterous, and more outgoing where Aralyn was austere, studious, and rather particular about everything around her.
Apparently, Cyrene had quite a few things to learn about court life. If she had it her way, she would certainly unlearn this lesson from Reeve.
“Well, I’m going to go find her,” she said. She snaked out of his embrace and stumbled away from their circle. She tried to block out their snickers as she left.
Eventually, she located Aralyn sitting with one other woman. They were just removed from the entrance to the grand hall.
“Aralyn, I’ve been looking for you.”
“Hello, Cyrene,” Aralyn said with a small smile. Her wavy light-brown hair was dead on the ends, and she had circles under her eyes. Her shoulders seemed too tight with tension. The travels the Queen requested of Aralyn had obviously taken a toll on her.
“You seem to be in a better mood than when I left you. Could it be because Prince Kael and King Edric asked you to dance?” Aralyn suggestively arched an eyebrow.
“That could have something to do with it.”
“Oh, forgive me,” Aralyn said. “This is Affiliate Leslin. She works for the Queen’s library division.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Cyrene said.
A disturbance at the entrance cut off further conversation. All eyes in the hall turned to the broad double doors as two men of the High Order hauled a man up off the ground and shoved him forward. The man threw expletives in such a slur that Cyrene only understood half of what he was saying.
As they approached where she was standing, she recognized this man. Of all the people she had met tonight, she could distinctly remember this person even if she had no clue of his name. He was the man who had run into her when she first entered the room.
They forcibly threw the man out the doors, and he landed heavily on his backside and rolled a pace before lying still.
“And stay out there, Ahlvie,” one of the men yelled.
“We’ve had enough of you tonight,” the second one chimed in.
Cyrene winced, and a twinge of pity hit her.
Several women gasped in outrage at the treatment, but Ahlvie slowly righted himself. He glared at the two members of the High Order and tossed a few more choice swear words in their direction.
“I’ve go-got to ge-get out of here.” He staggered to his feet. “Too many damn ru-rules in this forsaken pl-place!” Ahlvie staggered away from the hall, all the while muttering to himself.
“He is insufferable.” Leslin shuddered.
“A bit of a drinking problem?” Cyrene asked. She knew full well he had been beyond drunk when he careened into her earlier.
“A bit? If that…that man comes into my library again with a drop of alcohol in his system, I’ll murder him myself. I don’t care if he is a genius. His behavior is uncalled for.”
“Decidedly uncalled for,” Prince Kael agreed, walking into their conversation, unannounced.
Cyrene’s back had been turned, and she jumped at the sound of his voice.
“Perhaps I’ll have a word with him.”
Aralyn and Leslin looked at Prince Kael as if he were a large mythical Indres with huge talons and a body twice the size of a wolf.
Prince Kael acted oblivious to their bug-eyed expressions. “I’d hoped for another dance, Affiliate Cyrene. Will you oblige me?”
“Of course she will,” Aralyn said without thinking for once. “We were just leaving. Weren’t we, Leslin?”
“What?” the older woman squawked. “Oh, yes. Yes, we were just”—she cleared her throat—“leaving.”
Cyrene didn’t know whether to be grateful or humiliated by their hasty departure. Prince Kael stood before her with a humorous look on his face.
She linked arms with Prince Kael, and he escorted her back to the dance floor.
Prince Kael moved to the beat of the music and pulled her along for the ride. He would dance with her once or sometimes twice in a row, and then he’d hand her off to another gentleman. When they had completed their circuit, the man would promptly return her to Prince Kael’s arms. Some dances, they would speak of nothing, content to let the music carry them through. Other dances, they would chatter about such a variety of subjects that Cyrene began to wonder if she would be tested later.
At the close of another dance, Cyrene plopped down into a nearby chair and fanned herself with her hand, dizzy from the energy of the night. The exhaustion of the day was settling in. After hours upon hours of dancing, her poor feet were sore. It was so late now that the room had all but emptied of people.
Arriving at her side, ever merry, Prince Kael offered his hand to her once more. “You look drained. I would hate to keep you from your beauty sleep. Please allow me to escort you back to your room”
Cyrene stood with his assistance. “I’m not even certain where they are.”
“Then, you are lucky you have me here to guide you.”
Prince Kael directed her out the double doors. Cyrene didn’t even care how it might look to the remaining attendees. She only wanted to find her new living quarters and sink into her bed.
“How do you know where my room is?” Even in her state, she found that odd.
“There’s a directory,” he said nonchalantly. “We’ll cross by it before we reach the Vines.”
“Oh.” Why did no one tell me about the directory?
Prince Kael stopped at a corner where one of the biggest books Cyrene had ever seen sat on a podium. He easily opened it and found her name within the contents.
“This way.” He led her down a hallway took a few turns and then ended up in front of an archway with climbing vines that mirrored Cyrene’s Affiliate pin. They had found the Queen’s chambers, the Vines.
She marveled at the entrance for a minute and then followed Prince Kael through the corridors. After a few more twists, he stopped in front of a door where her name was written in a swirling green script.
Affiliate Strohm
“Thank you very much. I would never have found it without you.”
“It is my pleasure.” He held the door open for her as she entered.
“I can’t see anything.”
Prince Kael let the door close behind him. He struck a match and lit a lantern sitting on a wooden table. The dim glow cast light across the space, revealing a lovely sitting room complete with a brocaded silk sofa and soft-pink-and-cream armchairs. Tapestries in complementary colors lined the walls, and a beautiful braided rug took up a large part of the floor.
Prince Kael leaned one hand against the table, watching her.
“It’s beautiful.” Her quarters were incredible.
She couldn’t wait to see what the bedchamber looked like!
She turned to face Prince Kael, heat rising to her cheeks. Those intense blue-gray eyes looked back at her as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.
He prowled toward her. “You’re blushing, Affiliate.”
Cyrene swallowed but didn’t respond. The same current, an inexplicable connection, zapped between them just as it had earlier.
Then, without warning, Prince Kael’s lips were on hers. His strong arms circled her waist, and he pressed his chest tight against hers. She could feel every solid inch of his abdomen as his fingers dug into the silken material of her dress.
He pushed her backward against the wall, wedging her body between him and the hard surface. Her heart seized with panic when she realized there was no escape. She was at his mercy, and he used this to his advantage to snake one hand up into her hair.
He tried to coax life out of her as his other hand moved further and further down her waist, grabbing at her through the thin material. At this moment, the utter shock of the moment wore off, and Cyrene wrenched her head away from him, gasping in horror.
“What are you doing?” She shoved roughly against his chest.
He only grabbed her hair hard
er and pulled her lips back to his own. She muttered a few choice insults, which he swallowed through his kisses. Ignoring her protests, he kissed down her neck, across to her ear, and over her exposed collarbone. She breathed in quickly, both at the feeling of his mouth on her and the astonishment of being in such a position.
He had no right to kiss me in such a manner without my permission!
His knee moved up between her legs and drove them apart. Cyrene redoubled her efforts, not caring that her hair was ripping from the roots.
“Kael!” she screamed. “What are you doing? Get your hands off of me!” The shriek gave her an inch of leeway, and she stumbled sideways, away from him.
Breathing heavily, Kael narrowed his eyes.
Her entire body trembled. She swallowed hard to try to hide her terror as best as she could. “How dare you touch me!”
“How dare I—” He broke off with a snarl. “After I danced with you all night and escorted you back to your room, you turn me aside?”
Cyrene’s eyes were storm clouds, her jaw set in stone. “Turn you aside? You say that as if you were a suitor.” She couldn’t believe he could be so cavalier after he had forced himself upon her. “You certainly know nothing of being a suitor.”
Kael’s eyes lost the pale blue color that accentuated his features and turned a formidable slate gray. “I know nothing of being a suitor? I have roamed these castle walls my entire life. I have seen more courtiers come and go than you could imagine in your lifetime.”
“Then, you should leave the walls more often!” The fury of the incident still scorched through her veins. “You seemed to have lost your sense of reality if you believe that escorting me back to my bedchamber would suffice.”
Anger flared up in Kael’s face, but Cyrene did not regret her words. She might be making a grave mistake by angering the Prince, but she damn well was not going to be treated like a common whore. She didn’t care who the man was. This was not acceptable behavior!
“For all the education they give you women, I would think they would have taught you something of society, outside of your parents’ four walls,” he sneered.
