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Introductions were not necessary. Kallie had studied his portrait countless times over the past week. As the painting in the king’s hall suggested, Rian’s hair was indeed a dark copper, filled with warmth. His deep brown eyes were softer than Sebastian’s piercing green ones. Although his quiet, bashful demeanor suggested otherwise, Rian’s appearance demanded the room’s attention. He was strikingly handsome, and the painting had not revealed his height. His sharp jawline, his height, his broad shoulders that seemed to say he could carry the weight of the kingdom on them—it all demanded to be looked at, to be admired and fawned after. His suit, paired with a dark red wine jacket with simple black pants, was well-tailored, hugging his lean, muscular build. A gold watch wrapped snugly around his wrist. He wore no crown, yet his hair wore the mark of one, his amber curls indented.

Phaia was right. The king was undoubtedly attractive. But more than that, Rian was someone who would either rise on the throne or crumble beneath it.

While Kallie observed him, Rian notedly observed her as well. And Kallie knew what he saw. Her appearance tonight had been crafted with care and precision.

The new black silk dress, carefully chosen, clung to her body as if it were water rolling over her skin. Unlike her standard dresses, this dress was meant to lay everything bare, to entice. Kallie had been stripped of the layers of tulle and chiffon customary of the Ardentolian dresses. Kallie’s dress bore a simple heart-shaped neckline, drawing attention to the glittering diamonds dripping from her necklace. And it indeed drew Rian’s attention. His gaze caught on the sparkling stones laying on her collarbone, then dipped to the silt that stopped mid-thigh.

Kallie was keenly aware of the vial’s absence as he inched his way down her body. For a week, the small vial of poison sat hidden behind her corsets, a constant reminder of the task she had to complete. But now, it was gone.

Willing her stomach to settle, Kallie forced a small smile to her lips and strolled forward.

In the hearth sitting along the back wall, a small fire crackled. Beneath the smell of coals, Kallie identified the faint rosemary and sage from the venison sitting in the center of the large oak table—a table too large for today’s attendants. After all, this was a dinner for two. And yet . . .

In the seat to the right of Rian, Tessa sat, wearing a high-collared maroon dress with her hair pulled back in a loose bun, tendrils of auburn curls framing her face. The flicking flames of the candles cast a gold hue across her light brown skin.

Offering Kallie a small smile, Rian tipped his head. “Princess Kalisandre, it is an honor to make your acquaintance.”

An honor to make my acquaintance?

A laughable jest after she had to request his presence after a week of living in the castle. As king, Rian should have been one of the first to greet his guests, especially if the person in question was the individual whom he was to marry. But no, he wasindisposed. But instead of letting his words visibly irritate her, Kallie shook them off and lightened her tone when she spoke. “My King, I assure you, the pleasure is all mine.”

“Please, sit,” Rian said, pointing to the table.

Three extravagant place settings were laid out. The only available seat was on the opposite end of the table. In normal circumstances, the queen would sit at the opposite end of the king. However, these were not normal circumstances, and Kallie saw Tessa’s presence for what it was: a way to put distance between Kallie and the king.

I’ll have to fix that, now won’t I?

Kallie shifted out of Tessa’s sight and closer to Rian.

She smirked, the heat of her gift warming her body as she reached out a hand as if brushing off a piece of lint from Rian’s shoulder. “You will ask your mother to leave us,” Kallie whispered in his ear. She felt the release of her gift as it left her body to weave its limbs around Rian’s mind, forcing his hand and changing his will.

“Mother, leave us.” The command rolled off Rian’s tongue as if it were his own wish.

In Kallie’s peripheral, Tessa’s jaw dropped open. Kallie smirked behind him, pleased.

Rian would be an easy target, indeed.

Wiping away her smugness, Kallie turned toward Tessa, a hand on her chest. “Oh, Queen Mother, I didn’t see you down there.”

Tessa’s attention flicked to Kallie, eyes narrowing.

“Mother.” Rian pointed toward the door. “I would like to spend some time with my bride.”

“But, Rian, that’s not—”

“Mother.”

Tessa clenched her fists as she walked over to Rian. She tried to shift her body in a way that would put distance between Kallie and her son. As she did, Kallie saw the opportunity to try a new tactic.

“Oh no, have you grown ill?” Kallie asked, her gift lacing her words. She had never tried to command through questioning, but she had seen her father do it to his commanders when they questioned his orders. If Kallie incorporated her gift with it, it could work even better.

Intention. Confidence. Execution. Those were the three things her gift required.

The fire crackled.

Then, the familiar haze slipped over Tessa’s brown eyes, and her hand fell to her stomach. “Yes, actually. I am feeling ill.”

“You should go lay down and rest,” Kallie said, the feigned concern poisoned with command.