Page 52 of Awestruck (Starstruck Love Stories #4)
Chapter Thirty-One
Freya
I can admit that I enjoy a good party now and then, and the Celestial Ball was always a favorite of mine when I was a girl.
As a celebration of Candora’s formation, when the many warring clans met together under the midnight sky and agreed to peace under the rule of the first Alverra king, this ball has been a tribute to our history since the beginning.
A way to look back at our past written in the stars and see how far we have come.
But tonight feels different.
I have been greeting guests and dodging questions for the last hour, and I finally have a moment to myself thanks to my mother pulling the Duke of Rensvik into a conversation after he cornered me to talk about the Equine Festival again.
I think she could see my patience ready to snap, and I am grateful to her for rescuing me.
She has been very…sweet…to me since our conversation this morning.
Enough so that I am more suspicious than relieved, like she knows something I do not.
I thought she would be happy with my decision—marrying Markham is what she would have done in my situation—but every time our gazes meet, there seems to be a sort of sadness behind her eyes.
She is making me nervous, even though she assured me everything was ready for me to announce my intentions with Markham.
Playing with the crescent-shaped silver cuff on my wrist, I use my brief reprieve to look out over the ballroom.
Whoever planned this year’s event, they have certainly outshone years past, and there is so much to admire.
My gaze starts at the top, drawn to the canopy of twinkling lights strung overhead, but it is the sparkling chandelier that always takes center stage.
It was designed to mimic the night sky and its constellations, and I spent hours as a young girl trying to map them all, mesmerized by the way each crystal catches the light.
Deep blue banners emblazoned with the Candoran and Alverra crests and a smattering of silver-threaded stars line the walls, and all of the windows and doors on the east side of the room are open to the night.
A small orchestra in the corner plays Candora’s more traditional ballroom songs, while nobles and politicians and notable figures mingle and dance in their finery.
The air is heavy with the fragrance of roses and hyacinth and the fresh scent of the lake beyond the terrace.
Something else too. It smells like the end of summer.
The end of my world as I know it.
The Celestial Ball marks a time of remembrance and tradition, but it also heralds growth and change. Change for the better, I hope.
I fiddle with my cuff again. I made the right choice.
“Are you calculating if you can run?” A nudge at my elbow pulls my eyes to my brother next to me. He is looking at me with an amused smile, and while the twins in tuxes are nearly impossible to tell apart, I am certain this is Sander.
I smooth my hand along my sparkling midnight-blue gown, hoping to hide my nerves. “Not unless you think I need to. Mum already rescued me from Rensvik.”
We both look over at our mother, whose unbreakable exterior is beginning to crack as the duke regales her with talk of who knows what.
She should have brought Dad with her when she glided across the ballroom to get to me; he can sit and listen to practically anyone while remaining unfailingly polite.
Sander’s eyes drift to the two guards standing a few meters behind me. “No Elliot tonight?”
“No.” Despite what he told my mother this morning about staying by my side, I have not seen Elliot since I left him with my parents, and I am worried. Rothesby, one of my guards for the day, said Elliot has been dealing with a problem and not to worry, but his reassurance did little to comfort me.
“Where is Hex?” I ask to keep my thoughts from getting stuck on my bodyguard.
“I have barely seen him tonight.” In truth, I have barely seen anyone aside from the endless stream of nobles hoping to add their voices to the chorus of well-wishes and scandalized fear mongering.
I have been quite occupied. For the most part, that has been intentional.
It is harder to be nervous when I have no time to think.
Sander grunts and nods to the middle of those dancing a traditional Candoran country dance. “Agent Storme is here tonight, so I would imagine he’s hiding from her.”
“Is there some history there that I don’t know about?”
“We were in school together.”
“Oh.”
Unlike me, who had private tutors until I went to university, Hex and Sander chose to go to secondary school and then to a highly rated college in Invem after their exams at sixteen.
But they did not go to university, so if they were in school with the RIA agent I spoke to this morning, it would have been when they were teenagers.
I was in Paris then and not as close to my brothers as I am now, so I can only imagine the terrors they were back then.
“My condolences to her,” I say with as straight a face as I can muster.
Sander chuckles. “She can hold her own, which is why Hex is hiding.”
“She is still trying to convince him to join the RIA?”
“Yes, but he won’t do it.”
I turn to my brother, tilting my head. “Why is he so against it?” That is a question I should ask Hex, and I have, but his answer changes every time. Sander will know the real reason.
Clenching his jaw, he watches the dancers for a long moment as if debating with himself. “Because he doesn’t think he’s good enough,” he says eventually.
My mouth falls open. “What? Hex?”
He shrugs and drops his gaze to his feet. “Too wild to be a proper prince, too royal to be a proper palace guard. Never good enough. The RIA would be no different for him.”
“But that is—”
“It’s hard to feel worthy when you know they let you win the fight. When no one ever looks at you and sees a king.”
Oh. I press a hand over my heart as I see a part of my brother I have never seen before. He is not talking about Hex anymore. “Do…do you want to be a king, Sander?”
He snorts a laugh and shakes his head, looking out over the ballroom again. “Not in a million years.” His eyes start to trail someone, and I follow his gaze to find Agent Storme in the sea of blue. “But no one ever wondered if I could.”
Apparently there are a lot of things I have missed about my brothers. Maybe, when this is all over, I can find time to figure out who they really are beneath the carefree facades. I wish I could do that now, but I have a country to inform about my engagement.
“So, you chose him?” Sander says, clearly ready to turn the conversation away from himself. He nods to our right, where Markham is deep in discussion with a few members of Lords.
As surprised as I am to see the nobles talking to Markham so readily, I am not in the least surprised that I feel nothing when my future husband looks up at me and smiles.
I force a smile in return. “I accepted his proposal, yes.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Sander turns to face me, eyebrows low. “You chose Grimstad over Elliot.”
The hole that has been forming in my chest all day grows a little bigger. “Elliot was never a choice.”
“He was always a choice. From the very start.”
Scoffing, I grab handfuls of my gown, as if holding the silky blue fabric might steady me. “I tried to send him away at the start.”
Sander rolls his eyes. “You and I both know he would have been gone on day one if you’d really wanted it. You’re Freya Alverra, and you can make anything happen.” His attention catches on something over my head, and he narrows his eyes. “Why is the actor here?”
I turn to see Derek standing at the edge of the ballroom in a tuxedo, looking for all the world as if he belongs here as he surveys the room.
Gone are the exhaustion and anxiety from before, leaving behind an untouchable Hollywood superstar.
“Derek is my friend,” I say, suddenly desperate to know what he and Elliot learned today.
Did they fix the problem, or is that what Elliot has been ‘dealing with’?
Derek would not be this calm if it was still an issue.
“A man who lies about who he is is not a friend you should keep,” Sander all but growls. “He’s not the perfect man you think he is, Freya.” Before I can respond, he stalks in Derek’s direction, presumably to say something similar to Derek’s face.
I should try to stop him, but I let him go to avoid making a scene.
I know that Derek is not perfect, no matter what he lets the world see, but lying?
Putting up a front to protect oneself is not the same as intentional deceit, and Derek has his reasons for keeping so many shields up all the time.
Perhaps someday he will tell me what those reasons are, but I know better than anyone that he has to share on his own terms.
Thankfully, Sander is waylaid by Agent Storme before he ever reaches Derek, and as the pair of them speak and head in the opposite direction, I use the opportunity to walk toward my friend, hopefully to get at least one answer today that does not make me feel worse.
I make it three whole steps before Hex intercepts me, and though his eyes are on Agent Storme’s retreating back, I feel the full brunt of his sharp words. “How could you do it?”
Will I not get any peace today? Taking a steadying breath, I wait until my frustration settles. “Do what, Hendrick?”
Only when he seems certain he has avoided the RIA agent does he shift his glare to me. “Send Elliot away. If you’re not willing to admit that you’re in love with him yet, that’s fine, but—”