The Gala

by Leigh Walker

  “I don’t want to wait.” I wanted to get out of here, away from the cameras, away from Tariq and Mira Kinney watching me from the next room.

  “Tell me what’s wrong.” He rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb.

  “I saw you with Tamara again, and I know you sent her flowers.” My voice was flat, dead. “I saw you kiss her.”

  He sighed deeply, shooting a quick glance back toward the cameras. “That’s complicated.”

  I hoped that was code for ‘I didn’t want to do it but the network insisted,’ but of course, I didn’t dare ask. Instead, I took a step closer.

  Dallas’s eyes raked over my dress, and the muscle in his jaw jumped. “What are you doing?”

  “Coming closer. Like I said, I missed you.” In a move I’d cribbed from Tamara, I stuck my chest out a bit.

  Dallas’s gaze darkened, and he frowned. “Gwyneth. I’m with Shaye tonight. Shaye’s your friend.” He spoke to me as if he were trying to wake me from a trance.

  “I don’t care.” They’d written that for me, too—banking on the fact that the prince would be the perfect gentleman—but I would’ve said it anyway. I hated having him so close, but not being able to touch him, to show him how I truly felt, to claim him.

  I hated having to politely wait in line. I felt my temper rising. I reached out and stroked his cheek, and he winced. “Please. You’re not yourself tonight.”

  “You don’t want me?” I asked hoarsely.

  His face crumbled. “That’s not fair. You’re putting me in an impossible situation.”

  “That makes two of us,” I whispered. Those words were my own, unscripted.

  Shaye poked her head back into the room. “Are you quite finished?”

  Dallas and I stared at each other, and I nodded. “Yes. I believe we are.”

  He stepped back, as if I’d struck him. “My lady.”

  “Your Highness.” I turned on my high heel and strode out, without so much as twisting my ankle. All that twisted was my heart.

  Chapter 23

  Save Yourself

  “My lady, you don’t have permission to go to the stables—”

  “Then come with me, and watch my every move because I am going out there. Now.” I brushed past the sentinel through the doors.

  He cursed, but at least he followed me.

  “Thank you.”

  I sighed in relief as we reached the large, white barn and sprawling stable. I’d missed the horses, and the peace and tranquility of this place was just what I needed after yesterday’s disaster.

  I’d cried myself to sleep, again. And Evangeline had pretended not to notice, again.

  “I’ll wait out here,” the sentinel said at the stable doors. “But you mustn’t stay too long, my lady. They’re being very strict about the rules. You don’t want to get into trouble.”

  “I’ll just be a few minutes. I need to check on the horses.” In fact, they were most likely better than I was, but I needed to see them for mental health reasons. Inside the barn, I stopped and spoke to each horse. I patted each of their soft coats, slipping them the sugar cubes and carrots I’d snuck from the kitchen.

  I hadn’t been able to drag myself to the common room this morning for breakfast. I knew Shaye would be upset about what I’d done, and I couldn’t blame her. That didn’t mean I wanted to face her.

  I finally reached Maeve, and she whinnied in recognition. “Hello, my friend. There’s a good girl.” I gave her a carrot. “I’ve missed you, you know. I’d take you out riding, but everyone at the castle is being a bit cautious so no riding for us. We’re like prisoners, I tell you.” I gave her a sugar cube in consolation.

  “Your Highness! Please!” I heard shouts from outside the stable. “That is excessive, Your Highness. Ow!”

  Dallas strode inside, his face set with a grim fury.

  He dragged a squawking Tariq behind him.

  The prince dropped him onto the ground and Tariq looked up at him, seething. “Quite unnecessary, Your Highness.” He struggled to his feet and dusted off his clothes to the best of his ability. “I said I’d come willingly.”

  “Do. Not. Speak. Unless spoken to,” Dallas bit out. He turned to me, eyes blazing. “The royal emissary and I have just spoken about your performance during my date with Shaye.”

  I clung to Maeve. “Oh?”

  “My intelligence indicates that the royal emissary chose that dress for you and sent you on the mission to interrupt my date.” Dallas’s nostrils flared. “Is it true?”

  I looked at Tariq, not knowing what to say. If I admitted the truth, did that mean Tariq would run to the king?

  “I… Uh…”

  “Are you worried about him?” Dallas pointed, a bit wildly, at Tariq. “Don’t be. He won’t be whinging off to my father any time soon.”

  “I might have spoken with him about it,” I finally admitted. When Tariq didn’t flinch, I grew bolder. “And he totally picked out that dress.”

  Dallas grabbed Tariq by the ear, and the smaller man cried out in pain. “Do. Not. Ever. Pick out a dress for Miss West again.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” he squeaked.

  Dallas released him, but anger still rolled off him in waves. “I’d have you both know something. I do not appreciate being manipulated under any circumstances.”

  “Your Highness,” Tariq said, “the king has voiced concerns about Miss West—”

  “And I have spoken to him in return,” Dallas said, his voice now deadly calm. “I do not need, or want, you meddling in my family business, Tariq. It is called family business for a reason. You are an important member of our staff, but you must learn to butt out. When you try to insert yourself where you don’t belong, you make a mess of things, as you did yesterday.”

  Tariq’s brow furrowed. “My apologies, Your Highness. I thought I was helping both you and Miss West.”

  “That deserves a more convoluted explanation than I care to hear.” He pointed to the door. “Go. And if you ever instruct the camera crew to ignore my request to stop filming again, I will have your head on a spike.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.” With a formal bow to both of us—and no trace of irony whatsoever—Tariq fled the stable.

  “Now you.” Dallas’s gaze burned into mine. “What on earth were you playing at, listening to Tariq and making a fool out of both of us?”

  I still clung to Maeve, hoping she’d give me strength. “He said he was worried about you. And about me. And the rebels.”

  Dallas frowned. “Explain.”

  “Tariq said that the king did not approve of me, because of my history with the rebels and Benjamin Vale. He said the king would send me home, and then you would cancel the competition, and that basically, the whole world would come crashing down if I didn’t crash your date with Shaye, have you reject me, and make it seem as if there was some distance between us.” I scrubbed a hand across my face. “At least, those are the parts I understood.”

  Dallas shook his head. He suddenly looked weary. “I’m worried about you, Gwyneth.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m worried about your judgment. You should have come to me with your concerns, instead of blindly following Tariq’s scheme.”

  “Tariq said he’d tell the king you’d been protecting me. He threatened me.”

  Dallas cursed. “I’ll have his head on a spike yet.”

  “Don’t. He’s not all bad.” Just a large chunk of him.

  He raked a hand through his hair. “But there’s another problem here, a more vexing one. You’ve let these people bully you—Tariq, Tamara. You’ve let your emotions run away with you when you saw the episode with Shaye.”

  I stiffened. “I am human, you know.”

  Dallas cursed. “Yes, I’m aware. But you need to be strong, Gwyneth. Solid. If you want to be in this world, you have to keep your game face on, put people in their place, and stand up for yourself. Instead, you’ve been manipulated. You went along with a plot you did
n’t author.”

  “And you never do that.” Sarcasm dripped in my voice.

  “I told you before, I have a role to play.” He understood me perfectly. “The contest has to seem fair.”

  “Is jamming your tongue down Tamara’s throat necessary for fairness? Or is it something else?” Again, my temper was getting the best of me.

  “They asked me to do that, to add drama to the competition.” His eyes flashed. “I want many things, Gwyneth. One of them is for this contest to be fair, so that the people in the settlements are not disappointed. I wanted this to be a good thing, for the good of the people. The settlements’ future depends on it.”

  “I understand.” I tried to calm down before the moment got away from me. “But it’s still hard to watch. And then I haven’t been able to talk to you… I felt like I was going crazy…”

  “I told you it would be like this, for now.” Dallas looked sad. “I also told you not to doubt me.”

  “I didn’t.” But it sounded like a lie, even to me.

  “I suppose I was asking too much. I am sure that, were the tables turned, I would be jealous. I would have a hard time watching you with other suitors.” He tapped me under the chin, so that my gaze came level with his. “But I would give you the benefit of the doubt. At least, I hope I would.”

  “Dallas—”

  “I have to get back to the palace.” He sounded cold, distant, even though he was touching me. “I am sorry this happened and that Tariq used you in this way.”

  “I did it for you. I wanted to protect you.”

  He stroked my face, and then released me. “I did not need your protection, Gwyneth. I needed your trust.”

  And with that, he was gone.

  Chapter 24

  Both Sides Now

  I held the reins tightly.

  “Where are you going?” the sentinel bellowed.

  “I’ll be back soon. Don’t wait for me. If anyone asks, you never saw me. I don’t want to bring you any trouble.” I’d done enough damage. I didn’t need to drag the hapless guard down with me.

  I urged Maeve on, desperate to get away from him, from everyone, from the palace. Apparently as eager as me, the mare took off. The ground flew beneath us, and the wind whipped the hair off my face. Finally, there was some distance between me and the castle. I only wished I could get away from the look of disappointment on Dallas’s face. But it was branded in my memory, destined to haunt me for all of eternity.

  I cursed him.

  I would give you the benefit of the doubt.

  Well, wasn’t that just perfect? The morally and ethically immaculate prince would have handled the situation better than me if he’d been in my shoes. Must be nice. Must be nice to be so sure of everything, especially yourself.

  Let him be perfect then. Maybe he would pick Shaye as his bride. They could be gorgeous and perfect and kind and morally superior together, preparing nutritious meals for peasants while looking like fashion models and just generally making anyone less perfect—i.e., everyone else—want to hurl themselves from the nearest bridge.

  I grimaced. I didn’t want to think about him anymore. He was through with me.

  And you’re through with him, I promptly reminded myself.

  But still, his words were like a knife slicing through my heart. I needed your trust.

  Pretending to myself that it was because of the wind, I let my tears freely fall.

  I didn’t realize I’d ridden back to the spot Dallas had shown me, but I found myself there some time later. I tied Maeve to a tree and gave her another carrot. “Good girl.” I petted her behind the ears.

  She whinnied, as if she were worried about me as I started down the path. “It’s okay, Maeve. I’ll just be a minute.”

  But each step I took, I felt more weighted down with dread. I couldn’t stop the flood of memories. The day that Dallas had brought me here had been a happy one. I remembered the sun sparkling on him, his easy laugh as he teased me about the gnomes.

  I climbed to the top of the rock and stared at the lake. Its beauty washed over me, but then it was like I couldn’t even see it. Dallas’s words from our visit here rang in my ears. I don’t have a lot of people in my life who are truthful about what they think and feel.

  I winced. I’d pretended, yesterday. I’d used a script, sullying what we had by not being truthful, by not being brave enough to stand up for myself and what I believed in.

  You did it to protect him. But today it seemed a weak excuse.

  Maeve whinnied again, startling me out of my wallowing reverie.

  “Well, hello there.” A figure stepped out from behind the trees.

  “Oh!” I scrambled to my feet, heart pounding.

  He came closer so that I could finally see him—human, with brown hair and brown eyes. His clothes were dirty and torn.

  “I recognize you.” His eyes widened. “You’re the girl from the palace—the girl I saw with the prince.”

  Then I remembered him. He was one of the rebel prisoners from the palace, captured during the last attack. I’d seen him in the hallway of the castle.

  The prisoner sneered at me. “Who’s that? One of the sluts who’s here to turn on her own kind and marry the prince?”

  Dallas had almost choked him to death, nearly ending him on the spot. But I begged him to stop. By the way the prisoner was looking at me now, I should’ve let the prince finish.

  It was like my tongue had turned to lead. “Y-You’re the rebel, the prisoner who escaped.”

  His dull eyes glittered as he came closer. “That’s right.”

  I looked around, desperate for a stick or a rock, anything I could grab and use to fight him.

  “Not so fast, love.” He made it to me in a flash, grabbing my wrists and locking them together.

  “Get off me!” I struggled, trying to break free.

  The prisoner smiled. “I don’t think so.”

  “What do we have here?” Another man came out of the woods. He was young and handsome, dressed in a clean uniform, a far, civilized cry from the fetid rebel who’d captured me.

  “A human girl—one from the contest.” The prisoner leered at me as I continued to fight.

  “Let her go. She doesn’t need to be smelling your filth.” The other soldier climbed up as the prisoner released me.

  He eyed me up and down, as if quickly assessing a use for me. Whatever it was, I wasn’t sticking around to find out. I ran for it.

  I’d only made it two steps before the young rebel clamped a strong hand around my arm. “You’re not going anywhere, except with us.” He nodded to the prisoner, who went and grabbed their supplies.

  The prisoner took out a rope, bound my wrists, and tied it around me. He took it in his hand like a leash. “We’re walking,” he explained.

  I saw what looked like moss on his teeth. “You might want to find a toothbrush in your pack,” I quipped, “or seriously, never talk again.”

  He got in my face. What I could see of his teeth behind the fuzz of plaque flashed, but the younger rebel pushed him off. “Stay away from her. And tell me what you know while we walk.”

  Maeve whinnied, and they looked at each other. “You have a horse?” the younger man asked.

  I didn’t answer, deciding from then on that I would not speak to them.

  “I say we come back for it later. I saw this one”—the prisoner jerked the rope—“with the prince himself. She was a bit of a pet, I think. Let’s get her to the camp. She might be worth something.”

  “Hmm.” The young rebel’s face lit up. “You just might be onto something, my friend. Tell me all about it.”

  Chapter 25

  The Face Of You

  There were more—many more—rebels at their camp. I winced as I counted. At least twenty men were scattered about. Some of them were sleeping. Some looked at maps. Others played cards. If I couldn’t escape Moss-Teeth and Lieutenant Handsome, how on earth was I going to get away from twenty more soldiers?
>
  True to my vow, I’d remained silent, refusing to answer any of their questions. On our long walk to the encampment, the two rebels had seemed to forget about me for the most part, talking as if I weren’t there.

  “You say you saw her at the castle—explain,” the young soldier commanded.

  “She was with the prince, just the two of them. I even think they were holding hands.” The prisoner warmed to his story, eyes growing larger and voice growing louder. “I said something to her—I said she was a whinging race-traitor—and the prince got all boiled about it. Lifted me up the in the air and almost choked me.” He rubbed his neck.

  “So why aren’t you dead?”

  The prisoner jerked his thumb at me. “She called him off, and he listened. I told you, she’s his little pet.”

  “I bet you’re regretting that decision.” The younger soldier smiled at me.

  I ignored him.

  When we got to the camp, I refused to answer any questions.

  “What’s your name, sweetheart?” One man asked me.

  The soldier next to him peered at me. “How’d you end up out here all by yourself?”

  “Those filthy bloodsuckers aren’t even taking care of the women they stole from us,” another one said. “Letting them wander about like that when there’s a war going on... I can’t wait to put those monsters in a mass grave.”

  “Where are you from?” Another rebel asked me.

  “She’s from Four, I think,” the filthy prisoner said. “Ben said he recognized her. Too bad he didn’t live long enough to see her like this.”

  An older rebel peered at me. “What’s a nice girl from Four doing hanging around with filthy bloodsuckers, huh?”

  I said nothing, head held high. I couldn’t believe the rebels—my people—were acting like this. They were so filled with hate and prejudice that it had blinded them to any possibility other than their closely held beliefs.

  The irony of my situation was not lost on me. I’d been afraid to come to the palace, petrified when I discovered that the members of the royal family were, in fact, vampires. When I started to have feelings for the prince, I worried that I was a traitor to my family. When the prince had slaughtered the human rebels who had attacked the palace, I’d thought him a monster.