The Royal Trials: Imposter

by Tate James

  She turned sharply to leave the room without taking questions from us, but the paleness of her face and the trembling in her hands suggested she’d been just as blindsided by the eight deaths as we’d been.

  Making my way to the great hall that evening, I found myself battling a severe case of nervousness for what was to come. I wasn't as dense as I had been making myself out to be; I knew full well I stood a good chance of being the first trial winner. But if that was the case... what would I do?

  Regardless of how Lady Savannah wanted to phrase it, the so-called prize was the opportunity to spread my legs for some royal cock. Like I said, I wasn't dense; I knew that would be expected. So, could I really go through with it? Especially knowing my heart lay elsewhere... several elsewheres, if I wanted to be totally honest.

  Not that it was realistic or, truly, very smart to be involved with my sexy teachers. The illusion of killing Ty and all the gut-wrenching sorrow that had accompanied it proved that once and for all.

  Perhaps this would be good for me. If there was one surefire way to end things with the tutors, I had a feeling that letting a prince up my skirt would be it. So why did I feel like such an asshole for even considering it?

  “Suck it up, Calla,” I muttered under my breath, smoothing my hands over the delicate fabric of my gown. I'd given up calling myself Rybet. That was a name given to me by Master Bloodeye, and he'd taken it back. Calla, Luna, Lo... those were names uniquely mine now, despite the fact that I was still an imposter.

  Jules had still been nowhere to be seen when I'd returned to my room, but another maid had been there in her place to help me dress for the ball. She'd actually done a better job than Juliana had managed all week, too. My gown was an elegant, sapphire blue with a full skirt and short train. She'd pinned my long curls up delicately in the back, leaving the shorter pieces loose around my face to give the effect that I'd just cut a good foot or so from the length. As for a mask, I currently wore a barely-there scrap of metal filigree pushed up into my hair. I would put it in place before being announced, but the whole mask tradition was making me horribly claustrophobic, so I was putting it off as long as possible.

  “Can you believe that eight ladies died today?” Agatha murmured, falling into step beside me in her own ethereal ballgown. It was a girly shade of pink and covered in little fabric butterflies, but it suited her somehow. “At this rate there won’t be anyone left to win.”

  I grunted a noise of agreement. “Do you have any idea what the second trial will be?”

  She tilted her head side to side, like she was saying both yes and no at the same time. “Sort of,” she eventually admitted. “Or rather, I know what it would have been in Queen Ophelia's time. These trials seem a lot more... literal, though.”

  “Bloodthirsty, more like.” My stomach clenched and rolled again. Perhaps I was still suffering some ill effects from my poisoning. “So, what is it supposed to be, then?”

  Agatha sucked in a breath and glanced around us, probably making sure no one else was likely to benefit from her knowledge. “Traditionally the second trial would be a quest of sorts, usually to recover a magical artifact. The winner of the second trial would be named the kingdom's Seeker and awarded a place of honor in the royal household, regardless of who won the final trial.”

  “Huh,” I sighed. “Well, I don't see that happening this time.” Agatha shook her head in agreement. “So, a quest?”

  “Traditionally.” She nodded. “If we are leaving the palace, do you think the princes will be joining us?”

  Giving her a sidelong look, I grinned. “Princes? Or one in particular?”

  It didn't take a genius to see Agatha had a huge crush on Prince Louis. She turned almost the color of scarlettberry rum whenever he was within touching distance, and I wasn't totally sure if she had actually plucked up the courage to speak with him yet.

  “Maybe you can ask him to dance tonight,” I suggested, waggling my brows at her and smiling at the embarrassed flush rising in her cheeks. “For what it’s worth, he seems like the least abhorrent of the three of them.”

  Agatha rolled her eyes and lowered her voice as we drew closer to where the other remaining contestants waited outside the great hall. “I think it's an act,” she whispered. “I think they're not as bad as they seem.”

  I gave her a faint smile and sighed. “Perhaps.”

  It was the best I could offer. If she'd said this to me even three days ago, I would have laughed in her face for being so gullible. But now, I wasn't so sure she was wrong.

  “Good, you're all here,” a smartly dressed man snapped, and I recognized him as Harry, the herald from day one when we'd all been presented and inspected. “I will announce each of you, one by one. The order you are announced is the order you ranked in this week's trial, starting with the lowest score and ending with the highest. Understood? Good, let's begin.” He barely even glanced at us, let alone waited for a response, as he opened the door and stood inside to project his voice. “Lady Hazel of Redbark.”

  “Shit,” Hazel groaned, then adjusted her mask and straightened her shoulders to sweep into the ball with a level of refined dignity that I knew I could never fake.

  One by one, names were called, and ladies entered the ball “in our honor.” Surprisingly, Gracelin was announced before Agatha, and I shared a small smile of victory with her.

  Soon, though, it was just me... and Sagen.

  “Congratulations on scoring so high,” I said to her with a polite smile as the last lady left us to make her dramatic entrance.

  “Shut up, Callaluna,” she sneered back at me, spitting my name like a curse word. “The sheer fact that you even think you're in my league is a joke. I'm a princess, for Zryn's sake. You're nobody, and you'll die as nobody.”

  The situation would have been funny, if only she'd known how right she was in that statement. I was nobody. But that didn't mean I couldn't make a difference.

  Sagen opened her perfectly painted mouth to insult me again—I assume—but was cut short by Harry the Herald clearing his throat and throwing us a pointed look.

  “Her Highness Princess Sagen of Asintisch,” he announced to the room, and Sagen glared venom at me.

  “You rigged this somehow,” she hissed at me. “You and those tutors you've been sneaking around with all week. Just wait, I'll see you pay for this.”

  Whatever other threats she wanted to throw at me had to wait, though, as Harry was clearing his throat again and she needed to make her entrance. With one last death glare in my direction, Sagen flipped her hair and tilted her nose in the air to enter with all the regal grace befitting her princess status.

  “Looks like you had quite the week, Lady Callaluna,” Harry murmured as we waited for Sagen to take her time on the steps leading down into the ballroom. “I'm glad you beat that entitled little shit out. It'll do her good to have her pride knocked down a bit.”

  I glanced at him with raised brows, and he gave a small smirk.

  “I never said that,” he chuckled. “Ready?”

  Giving him a short nod, I tucked my mask into place and waited while he announced me to the room.

  “Lady Callaluna of Riverdell,” he boomed. “Winner of the First Trial.”

  I snorted as I passed him, noticing how he felt the need to rub Sagen's loss in her face just that little more. While I lacked that aristocratic grace that all the other contestants carried, I hopefully made up for it in sheer confidence.

  My chin tilted up and my shoulders set back, I held my head high as I made my way down the steps. My gaze didn't falter or flinch once as various nobles and highborn ladies nodded to me. Not even when the king raised his wine glass to me in greeting did I look away.

  These people were nothing to fear. They were just people. The fear they instilled in us poor folk was entirely of our own doing. We let them treat us like lesser creatures, so they did.

  “Lady Callaluna,” Prince Thibault greeted me as I reached the podium upon which the
royals were situated. I swept possibly my best curtsey to date, then straightened to nod at the musclebound prince.

  “Your Highness,” I responded, accepting a glass of wine from his hand as he stepped down to my level.

  A small smile played at his lips, and he opened his palm, extending something in my direction. “I wanted to get in first and say I would be honored if you chose to spend some time with me after the ball tonight. I think we would have a great many things to converse on.”

  Startled, I stared down at the key in his hand, then back up at him. Despite his claims of wanting to “converse,” there was a wicked hunger in his gaze that made me shiver. Somehow, I doubted that would be all he had in mind... and I wasn't so confident in my own strength of will to resist him.

  “That's, um,” I started, licking my lips and clearing my throat. “That's a flattering offer. May I consider it?”

  His sexy smile spread wider, and he gave a small head dip. “Of course, but take the key anyway. Just in case.”

  Unsure what the hell to say, I took the delicate key from his gloved hand and held it up to inspect it. There was an intricate “T” carved into the handle, and a circle stamped with the royal crest dangled from a green silk cord.

  “Uh, thanks?” I offered, hesitating a moment before tucking the key into the inbuilt bra of my ballgown. The middle prince watched where his key disappeared, and I swear his breathing hitched a little. I found myself blushing. “Ballgowns don't tend to include pockets, Your Highness,” I informed him in a tart voice. “Where else was I supposed to put it?”

  The tall man tossed his head back and barked a laugh. “You'll see no complaints from me, Lady Callaluna,” he chuckled, taking my hand and pressing a lingering kiss to my knuckles. “I hope you'll save a dance for me later.”

  Before I could accept or decline, an older couple decked out in shimmering fabrics interrupted us and began chattering to the prince about trade routes or something. Whatever it was, I took the opportunity to fade into the crowd and gather my wits.

  Of course, I'd known that as the winner of the first trial, I would need to make a choice tonight... But first, I needed food. And probably a healthy dose of liquor.

  This was going to be a long night, and I was already secretly hoping that Lee or Ty... or hell, even Zan, might be here somewhere—if only to offer me a moment of normalcy amid the madness.

  But it was for the best that they weren't. Seeing them would only make my inevitable choice even harder, and that was far from what I needed.

  To my disappointment, I only managed to snag a few paltry bites of food before bending to the social pressure of dancing, thanks to the many offers I received after leaving Prince Thibault. It became quickly apparent that I'd made an impression as one-to-watch, and I was already being fawned over.

  Was that what life was like for the princes? Constantly dealing with fake, pandering idiots who were sucking up for some unknown future favor? No wonder they never wanted their faces seen. They'd never get a moment’s peace to do normal things, like... Well, I really had no idea what they'd do if no one recognized them.

  It did make me curious, though. Would they pretend to be someone else, knowing no one would recognize them?

  “Lady Callaluna?” Someone interrupted my thoughts, and I spun around to see who it was as I shoved the last of the delicious dessert in my mouth. It was a new food to me, something that apparently came from one of our neighboring kingdoms and consisted of sponge cake rolled in chocolate sauce and coconut, then filled with cream. It was utterly heavenly, and I hadn't eaten anywhere near enough of them as I'd only just been released from the sweaty grip of an elderly, overweight duke.

  “Oh!” I startled. “Prince Louis.” To my horror, little flakes of coconut and half-chewed sponge cake flew out of my mouth with these words and splattered on the front of his crisp white shirt. Throwing caution to the wind, I planted my hands on my hips and glared as I frantically chewed and swallowed to clear my mouth. “Technically, that was your own fault,” I informed the youngest royal. “For starters, you're standing awfully close right now. And another thing, you should never startle a woman who is eating desserts. It's bad for your health.”

  A wide, almost genuine sort of smile curved his lips, and against my better judgement, I found myself wondering what it'd be like to kiss him.

  “Noted. I wanted to see if you might like to dance with me.” He held out his gloved hand, and I hesitated. I'd faked it well enough with the men I'd accepted dances from, but Prince Louis was bound to notice my less-than-satisfactory dance experience.

  “It's an easy one, I promise,” he assured me, seeming to sense my reluctance. “I won't let you fall, Calla...luna.”

  It was probably my imagination, or all the wine I'd already consumed, but I could have sworn he paused halfway through my name. Weird.

  “Sure,” I reluctantly agreed. “But don't be surprised if I step on your toes.” This last part was muttered under my breath, but he chuckled anyway. Damn sharp hearing.

  Thankfully, he hadn't been lying. The music was soft and slow... dare I say, romantic? Prince Louis led the dance with enviable expertise, and I did my best to remember Prince Alexander's instructions from our first dance. Follow.

  Almost before I was ready, the song ended and Prince Louis was offering me a polite bow, which I needed to quickly reciprocate with a curtsey.

  “Thank you, Lady Callaluna,” Louis murmured as I rose from my curtsey, which, I might note, I was becoming pretty damn good at. “I wanted to offer you this.” He held out a key almost identical to the one his older brother had given me. “Contrary to what you might think, I have no ulterior motives. If you choose to use this key, I swear I will not take advantage of the situation, nor will I pressure you into anything you aren't comfortable with.”

  Startled, I blinked at him a couple of times. “You mean to say you wouldn't fuck me tonight?” The second the crude words left my lips, I cringed. Hardly ladylike.

  A naughty smile crossed Louis's lips. “I wouldn't say no, if that's what you're asking,” he admitted honestly. “But I won't force you into anything you don't want to do.”

  There was a tense silence between us while I searched for the appropriate words. Eventually, I just settled on, “I'll bear that in mind.”

  Accepting the key from his hand, I tucked it into my dress alongside Prince Thibault's somewhat less innocent offer.

  “That's all I can ask,” Prince Louis accepted and gave me a tight smile. “Congratulations on your win, Lady Callaluna. You deserved it.”

  With that odd statement, he left me to dance with another lady, and I made my way back to the dessert table, feeling significantly off balance. Maybe I'd been wrong about them? Remembering the cold, arrogant men who'd taunted me on day one when I'd stood before them blindfolded and angry, I found it hard to reconcile them with the polite, almost respectful men I'd interacted with tonight. It was baffling, to say the least.

  “Lady Winner,” another deep, husky voice announced from beside me, and I glanced up to see the third, and oldest, prince. “I'm somewhat impressed. For a moment there, I was worried it might be Her Highness dragging me off to her chambers tonight.” He gave an exaggerated shiver, and I bit back the urge to laugh.

  “Your Highness,” I replied, sneaking another bite of the spongy, cream-filled goodness. “Let me guess, you're here to offer me a key to your rooms with the promise that you'll be an utter gentleman and not lay a hand on me?”

  He snorted a rather un-princely sound and narrowed his dark eyes at me from behind his mask. “Is that what my brothers did? How insulting. No, Lady Callaluna, that's not what I'm here for.” He fished in his pocket and pulled out a key to match the other two resting inside my dress. “I'll give you this because I'm required to do so. But I urge you not to use it.”

  I choked on a flake of coconut and coughed for a moment before I was able to speak again. The prick just stood there and watched me suffering, too. Didn't even
offer me a damn glass of water.

  “Excuse me?” I finally blurted out. “You urge me not to use it?”

  “That is what I said,” he confirmed with a condescending tilt to his mouth. “I hadn't realized you were hard of hearing.”

  “My hearing is fine, you royal asshole,” I snapped back. “But I wanted to check that you knew what you'd said.”

  The oldest prince turned his full attention on me then, blocking my view of the rest of the room and stepping into my personal space with all of his imposing presence.

  “Let me spell it out for you, Lady Callaluna,” he spoke softly, but it was with an undertone of aggression and threat. “If you use this key tonight, you'll be doing it at your own peril. I'm not my brothers, and I won't offer you sweet nothings and conversation. If you come to my rooms, you'd better be stripped of that lovely blue dress and waiting naked by the time I get there because I will accept nothing less than all of you. I won't hold back, and I won't woo you with pretty lies. You're an attractive lady, much more so than anyone else on offer right now, and if you were to come to my rooms I would use you in every way I have fantasized since first laying eyes on you.”

  He paused then, and I fought to keep my breathing even. His words should have horrified me, made me want to throw a drink in his face and accept Louis's sweet offer. Or even Thibault's naughty but sincere one. And yet... my heart pounded and my cunt clenched with desire. What was it about this royal prick that turned me on so damn hard?

  “So please, Lady Callaluna,” Alexander continued, “accept one of my brother's keys because I will ruin you.”

  I stood there speechless as he tucked his key into the bodice of my dress, his gloved fingers brushing not-so-accidentally across my hardened nipple. Without another word, he turned and stalked back into the crowd of partygoers like we'd just been discussing the weather or something equally mundane.