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Chapter thirty-two

Tiberius

T he evening of the queen’s birthday saw Tiberius striding alone through the corridors of the palace. Not a single person stopped him to say hello as he made his way toward the ballroom for the festivities. Not a single courtier attempted to flatter him or curry favor.

There was no point to it all now. He no longer had the queen’s ear.

He was no longer her favorite .

That part didn’t chafe so much, though. Finally being above the shadow of the rumor he was Seraphina de la Croix’s lover certainly held some appeal.

What did chafe was the fact he had been replaced by that…little beast who dared call himself a prince.

It was laughable, really, that anyone at all thought Aldric Hargrave might be a suitable replacement for him.

When Tiberius finally stepped into the ballroom, he hunted for any sign of that Crow . But when he did not see him amongst the other revelers, some tension eased from his shoulders. He hadn’t been in the mood to deal with the other man’s nonsense.

A good deal more relaxed, Tiberius took a turn about the room.

The space was decorated in the soft hues of a summer field for the occasion of the queen’s thirtieth birthday rather than the typical blue, gold, and white of House de la Croix. Lavender and sage swaths of silk draped from the vaulted ceiling. Flowers in similar shades flourished on every available surface. Sounds of laughter and clinking glasses filled the entire chamber, with a swell of music winging just above the hum of conversation.

Already, dancers glided across the floor, Her Majesty among them.

Tiberius’s steps slowed as he watched Seraphina sparkle beneath the light of the chandeliers—beauty personified in her high-necked gown of plum silk.

He only had time to note she was dancing with Sir Easome’s son, Lord Devon, before a hand clapped him on the shoulder in familiar greeting. Arching an eyebrow, Tiberius twitched his head to the side to see just who might have dared.

He paused when his eyes locked with those belonging to the Duke of Coreto himself. “Lord Beaumont,” the duke warmly greeted him, “you are looking well this evening. ”

“As are you, Your Grace,” Tiberius carefully returned the compliment. The moment the Duke of Coreto released his shoulder, he took the hem of his doublet in hand and gave the garment a swift tug to smooth it back into place. “Where’s your son, then?” he asked. “I had thought to speak with him.”

More like mock Lord Bennett for his terrible conduct at this sort of affair, but there was no need to tell the duke that.

“Ah, you know Bennett. He is around here”—the duke flicked a glance about the ballroom—“somewhere.” When his cool gaze snapped back to Tiberius, Coreto invited, “Walk with me a moment?”

After a beat of hesitation, Tiberius moved to follow.

Never had the duke paid him a lick of attention, despite the fact that until only recently, Tiberius had been one of the most influential men at court. One could only wonder what Coreto might want from him now his star had utterly fallen.

“You know, young man,” the duke began in a casual drawl, “your father and I used to be very close…”

Those words earned a tight smile from Tiberius’s lips. “Yes, I believe on his deathbed, he mentioned you owed him some money.”

It took the Duke of Coreto the span of a few uncomfortable moments before he finally recognized the jest for what it was. He laughed. “You’re quick on your feet, my lord. In more ways than one, I might add.”

Tiberius cast a sidelong glance toward the older nobleman, studying his features in profile .

The duke sneered, “That duel between you and the Crow—if one could even call it a duel—was truly barbaric. Her Majesty should have seen His Highness’s commoner punished for daring start the entire altercation in the first place.”

“Of course,” Tiberius murmured, though a growing sense of unease crawled its way across the back of his neck. Here, he and the duke stood just on the brink of very dangerous ground. As if they had both just arrived at the banks of a frosted pond together, with no manner of knowing just how thick the ice was.

Nor how deep the waters beneath.

Halting mid-step, Tiberius turned toward the duke and bowed his head. “You flatter me, Your Grace, but I truly must go and find Lord Bennett now.”

Coreto’s smile was thin and his pale eyes cool when he dipped his head in return and quietly offered, “Naturally. Do give my love to my son for me, won’t you, Lord Beaumont? He has always been so terribly fond of you, you know.”

Liar .

He and Bennett had only ever tolerated each other’s company. But it would have been gauche to call the Duke of Coreto on his falsehoods to his face.

Tiberius hurried from the duke’s side and skirted around the edges of the dance floor. His eyes desperately hunted for the queen again, for therein lay his true destination. She had been avoiding him ever since her return from Nerina Reef.

But he would no longer be ignored.

There .

During his brief time with Coreto, the song had changed and so had her partner. Now, she danced with the Ambassador of Drakmor and looked none too happy about it.

Drawing in a deep breath, Tiberius counted the beats of the music and watched the swirl of the dancers. He waited until the perfect moment when he could finally sweep his way in front of the Drakmori Ambassador and take the other man’s place in the line.

Such had been quite the style when he was a younger man—a cheeky little way to claim a dance with a lady who was too popular to be danced with otherwise.

One, two …

On the count of three, Tiberius finally made his move. The shift was so seamless, he couldn’t help but laugh aloud at the clear confusion on Lord Ezzo’s face when the Drakmori realized he was no longer part of the current dance and had no partner to return to.

Her Majesty looked equally confused for all of a moment, but the smile that claimed her lips after the initial confusion had faded warmed him all the way down to his toes. It was the sort of smile he couldn’t help but return in kind.

There was his queen.

“Tiberius!” Her Majesty gasped, pure delight in her tone. “You are terrible . ” Peeking around him, she added on a lower note, “I imagine Ambassador Ezzo is quite furious with you at the moment. ”

“Let him be,” Tiberius murmured, his voice as smooth as velvet when he added with one of his most charming smiles, “I have what I want.”

He traced the path of that flush across her cheeks and waited for her to reprimand him for being so bold in his speech. He waited for her to chastise him, to show she was still just as cross as she had been that evening in the garden.

But that moment never came.

Tiberius smiled to himself and settled back into the familiar rhythm that had always existed between them—the constant push and pull of the tides. Even when the steps of their dance saw them parted, it was for but a moment before she returned to him, the press of her fingers gentle against his own.

“Happy birthday, Your Majesty,” Tiberius murmured when next she drew close enough for him to offer that soft speech.

The queen’s nose crinkled in reply. “I feel so terribly old. Thirty . At last.” She swirled away from him, carried off by the latest notes trilling through the air.

When she stepped back in on the next pass, though, Tiberius was swift to whisper, “And yet you don’t look a day over twenty-nine,” which earned yet more laughter from his old friend.

When she laughed like that, everything felt right in the world. It felt as if they were in their twenties again, racing each other through the King’s Forest on horseback while their guards struggled to keep pace.

Except that now, there were several things glaringly different between them. Like the fact that she was now the queen .

And betrothed to a little beast posing as a member of the royalty.

Ah, there’s the little beast now , Tiberius noted when next he turned.

The dwarf lurked near the entrance to the ballroom with his Kunishi savage. And though the two men had clearly attempted to bathe and shave, they still stood out against all the sparkle and finery of Elmoria like two flies drowning in a glass of milk.

And yet, many courtiers already flocked to the Crow, eager to pay their respects to the man they thought was to be their king.

Idiots, the lot of them. There was no way Seraphina was actually going to go through with it. She would find some way to be rid of the dwarf.

They would all see.

“I have a present for you, Your Majesty, of course,” Tiberius softly revealed to the queen as he twirled in step with her, their hands pressed together in one of those rare, delicious moments of proximity. “But I fear it’s not the sort that can be placed within a box.”

The queen quipped without missing a beat, “Please, tell me you are not gifting me an entire diamond mine this time, Tiberius,” before the steps of their dance carried her away yet again.

But before she could return to him, she finally spotted the dwarf herself. Tiberius saw it so plainly in the way her shoulders stiffened when she shot a glance toward the insignificant figure skulking in the entryway.

Looking that way, Tiberius’s jaw tightened yet again when he saw the one-eyed beast staring at her in return .

“No,” Tiberius breathed in answer when next they were close. That time, he boldly laced his fingers with hers to draw her attention back his way in full.

Her eyes widened at his latest boldness. Her lips parted on a protest that never came.

He teased, “Though I’d be more than happy to see if I could find one for you, if you desired it.” He presented her with another of his warm smiles while she lingered with him for the span of those moments. Finally, Tiberius revealed, “I have commissioned a dozen new ships for Elmoria’s navy. I know my last gift was a bit frivolous, but—”

The steps of the dance drew her away from him again, and she twirled across the dance floor in a renewed flash of dark purple silk. Maddeningly, her eyes returned to the dwarf the second she was no longer in Tiberius’s immediate vicinity.

He had to count the moments until she was again within reach lest he skip a few steps. When she finally was, she wasted no time in whispering to him in breathless reply, “Tiberius…I hardly know what to say. That is”—she wet her lips, luring his attention down that way—“so very generous of you.”

“This is not another marriage proposal,” he hastily reassured her, and she visibly relaxed at those words. “Though, I… had hoped to beg a favor of you, Your Majesty.”

The tension returned to the queen’s features at once. “What is it, Tiberius?”

The final strains of the music lilted all about, and Tiberius gave Her Majesty one final twirl before he paused and bowed low. His lips hovered just over her knuckles and he whispered against her skin, “I would beg you for a wife.”

Silence greeted him for a brief time before she asked, “You are asking me to command a lady of the peerage to marry you?”

When Tiberius rose from his bow, he gently corrected, “I am asking you, Your Majesty, as my sovereign and friend, to negotiate a marriage alliance between House Beaumont and another Elmorian noble family on my behalf.”

Never once had Tiberius ever had trouble with the women of the court. He could earn the favor of any lady with a single glance and a smile.

It was their fathers who had always stood in his way.

But he needed a wife and if Seraphina wasn’t keen on marrying him and adding his family’s gold to the Crown’s treasury, the least she could do was broker a marriage on his behalf.

It was within her power. She was the queen.

Only she could ensure House Beaumont rose to one day join the ranks of the Great Houses of Elmoria.

When Seraphina didn’t immediately answer him, Tiberius pulled his hand free from hers, and softly added while fighting against a frown, “ Please , Your Majesty. Do not make me beg.”

Desperation was a bitter draught. He hated the taste of it in his mouth. But what else was he to do? Only she could secure him the sort of wife his father had always wanted for him.

At last, the queen bowed her head and cautiously promised, “I will consider it in the new year, after I have dealt with this…business of my own wedding. ”

Tiberius twisted his mouth to the side at the reminder of her circumstances. He flashed a glance back to the entryway, where the Crow and his Kunishi pet were still being mobbed by the masses.

“I’m truly sorry, you know,” he murmured down to the queen when his attention returned her way, though her gaze remained elsewhere—staring off into nothing. “That you have had to tie yourself to that… beastly little monster, all for the sake of Mysai.”

Those words lured her eyes back up to his own, and he presented her with a smile he hoped looked sympathetic enough. “I hope the entirety of Elmoria appreciates the sacrifices you make for them all.”

Bowing one last time, Tiberius prepared to depart from the queen’s nearness at last. A small, wicked part of him desired nothing more than to continue to lay claim to her for the rest of the evening, especially now her husband-to-be was there to witness such a thing.

But he had already lingered in the center of the dance floor with her for too long. They were drawing attention.

In times past, he would have basked in that attention. But now? Now, he needed to be on his best behavior to show the rest of the peerage he was worthy of their daughters.

Tiberius only made it a single step before the queen’s hand alighted on his arm and halted his retreat. He glanced back to find her still staring up at him, her expression most solemn.

“Just so we are perfectly clear with one another, my lord,” the queen whispered, her words barely audible over the melody of the latest song now lilting through the ballroom. “Aldric Hargrave is a monster because of the atrocities he has committed, and not for the way the Lord on High fashioned his body.”

The urge to recoil from the sound of Seraphina de la Croix defending the beastly little gargoyle was too great to ignore. Try as he might, Tiberius couldn’t help but flinch away from her touch in the wake of those words. He tried to mask the movement with another smile and a bow of his head.

What he wanted to ask her was how could she possibly speak up for the man who had beaten poor young Tristan Dacre to within an inch of his life.

Not that he cared. Not truly.

But what he murmured instead was a mere polite, “Of course, Your Majesty. My apologies,” before he finished turning about and striding away from the woman.

In the course of his retreat, his gaze flitted toward the Duke of Coreto again. When their eyes locked, the older nobleman subtly raised his glass to him, as if in toast, and gave a knowing sort of smile.

A fresh rivulet of unease trickled its way into Tiberius’s stomach.

Under any other circumstances, he would have been thrilled to have suddenly gained the attention of one of the most powerful men in all Elmoria. The Duke of Coreto’s family, House Threston, could trace their lineage back to the times of King Hamon I.

And they were fairly well-respected, their strange religious beliefs aside .

But in that moment, he wasn’t quite sure what to feel as he about-faced and prowled about the fringes of the ballroom furthest from the duke. With a smile on his lips, he searched for a fresh lady he might lure out onto the dance floor.

Seraphina could have her dwarf if she wanted.

It was beyond time he began his hunt for a proper bride once more.