Page 6

K ester appeared on the studio threshold almost the instant that Aedan stepped down from his platform. Iona, dismayed, glanced toward the open window but glimpsed the red cloak of a royal guard pacing along the path beyond the hedges.

The steward had learned his lesson and came prepared this time.

“Your Highness, your father the king requests your presence in his study.”

She blew a long breath, cheeks puffed. The message could have been much worse. Reluctantly she asked, “He wants me there now?”

Kester inclined his head. “I am to escort you.”

Her heart fluttered as she worked the buttons of her smock. Perhaps this wasn’t bad news at all. She rarely had interviews with her father, and they usually involved him informing her that he would be sending her away into the countryside for a season.

If that was his intent at present, she would go, and gladly, Aedan’s half-completed portrait notwithstanding.

The steward led her to the castle’s central concourse, to the dark-paneled room where her father conducted most of his private business. At a desk piled high with books and papers, King Gawen looked up from a document, his dark blue eyes unreadable. He gestured Iona to the chair directly across from him. To his steward he said only, “Thank you, Kester.”

The man retreated, shutting the door behind him.

King Gawen set aside his work and focused on his younger daughter instead. Fingers interlaced and resting on his desktop, he observed her. She fought the inclination to squirm.

“I suppose first I should ask for an explanation of your conduct last night.”

A sweat broke on the palms of her hands. She resisted the urge to rub them against her skirt. “In what respect?”

“When I ask you to play for guests, I expect you to comply. And yet you balked at the very idea. Why?”

Past experience had taught her not to report Lisenn’s threats. Her father never took them seriously, and he openly disapproved of tattling. But she could frame her woes in a way that both appealed to him and reflected well on her sister.

“I worried it would upset Lisenn, that it would draw too much attention away from her when she’s the one with whom the Prince of Capria has come seeking a marriage alliance. And she did seem unhappy when you suggested I play.”

He considered her words, unmoving. “So you wished not to play in consideration of your sister’s feelings?”

“Yes.” That much was true, at least. She abstained from a lot of activities in consideration of Lisenn’s rage.

“I understand, and I will take such matters into account going forward. However, when I request that you play, you are to smile and agree. Do you understand?”

She nodded, the coldness of his voice a damper on her soul.

“Now, regarding these treaty negotiations,” he continued, picking up a document from his desk, “we have scheduled meetings over the next several days, but it’s important that your sister and Prince Jaoven have time together, to be certain that they suit one another before they commit to a marriage. I have requested that the treaty discussions take place in the mornings, and that they spend the afternoons with one another. You will, of course, accompany her.”

Iona’s blood froze. She didn’t fully register the command.

“Well?” he prompted.

Having just received a rebuke for defying his orders, she instantly said, “Yes, sire. But will she want me there?”

“His entourage will be there as well, and most of them are around your age. It’s only proper to include you. For propriety’s sake, Jaoven and Lisenn cannot be alone together, and I’m not going to send her alone among a pack of Caprians.”

She swallowed the instinctive protest on her lips.

“I scheduled this specifically not to interfere with your painting sessions with your cousin,” King Gawen said. “You might thank me for taking such details into consideration.”

“Thank you, Father,” Iona quickly said.

He rested his forearms on the desk and leaned in, pinning her with a keen stare. “And now, I want you to be truthful: what do you know of these Caprians? You must have met several of them before they arrived on our shores.”

Vaguely she nodded, her mouth dry. Mere hours ago, Jaoven had begged her not to scuttle their treaty. If she told the truth now, she might accomplish the very thing she’d scorned doing. “Several of them attended Capria’s Royal College at the same time I was there. It has been four years, though, and their experiences in their civil war seem to have changed them.”

“You knew the crown prince?”

She couldn’t lie. “He was only the son of a duke at the time.”

“And you were friends?”

“No, sire.”

“Why not? ”

She wrung her hands together in her lap. “I kept to myself when I was there.”

His brows arched. “Are you saying you didn’t make friends at all?”

“I was busy with my studies.”

“That reflects poorly on the crown of Wessett, Iona.”

Much as she wanted to protest, she knew better. Instead, she nodded. “I’m sorry. They knew me by a different name. I didn’t think of how my behavior would reflect upon Wessett.”

“You should always think of it. At any rate, if there lies any bad blood between yourself and any member of the Caprian delegation, I expect you to dismiss it. You are to conduct yourself as a representative of Wessett in all of your interactions with them, which means utmost decorum. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Father.”

He returned his attention to his papers, and when the silence stretched too long, she assumed herself dismissed. As she rose, however, his voice arrested her.

“This is an opportunity for you, child—a time you can associate freely with others your own age. I advise you to enjoy it to its fullest. A word of caution, however.” Here he raised piercing eyes to meet her gaze. “Do not form any lasting attachments, particularly toward those with whom it would complicate our negotiations.”

Was he warning her not to fall in love with Jaoven? Had the atmosphere been any less stiff she would have laughed outright. Instead, maintaining her control, she said. “That will not be a problem, sire.”

“See that it isn’t.” With shooing fingers he motioned her away.