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Chapter thirty-five

T he smile fell from his face as he took in my hesitation and asked, “What’s wrong?”

I dropped my gaze to the flowers, working the petals between my fingers. “Is this a date in front of people?” The thought of people pointing and staring at us had me wanting to turn around and lock myself in the bathroom.

He paused, “Of course.” My stomach sank. “What is it?” he asked, finally turning to face me once more.

I looked up into his eyes, regretting my words before I could even speak them, “What will everyone think?”

His brows furrowed, “I don’t care what people think.”

“But I do!” I semi-shouted, finally letting him see the vulnerable side of myself that I usually tried to keep hidden. It was one thing I hated about myself, that deep down I cared about what other people thought. Their scrutiny was torture.

Finally catching on, Nickolai’s face softened, and he took the flowers, setting them down on the table nearby before grabbing each of my hands.

Lowering his head to my level, he offered, “We can stay in if you wish. But eventually we will have to go out before them. The longer we wait, the more the rumors will grow.”

I worked my lip between my teeth, mulling over his words. He had a point—it was bound to happen. If we waited, it would only increase the amount of scrutiny that we were put under. With a nod, I relented, “Okay. . . let’s go.”

His smile returned instantly along with his awaiting arm. I took it, focusing on the feeling of him being near me in an attempt to quell the rising anxiety. It seemed to work, somewhat.

We were each given cloaks as we stepped out of the room, the soft fabric creating a makeshift shield for me.

With a group of guards at our backs, Nickolai led me to the city, everyone staring and pointing like I’d feared.

It was worse than it had ever been before.

All the times that Nickolai showed attention to me in front of the court did not warrant nearly as many stares as us walking arm in arm.

I clutched him tighter as we walked past the not-so-quiet whispers, and Nickolai leaned into my ear, reassuring, “They will stop before you know it.”

Highly doubt that.

“Let me give them something to stare at,” Khalia hissed.

“No.” Their whispers were bad enough—I didn’t need her to create an uproar.

When we stepped outside, I was very grateful for the cloak.

With the coming winter, brought a soft breeze that would freeze the toes off of a zalkrot.

Fortunately, we weren’t subjected to the breeze for long, making it to the city in record time.

The buildings and trees blocked most of the wind from reaching us, while the sun, which was most of the way through the sky, slightly warmed the little time left in the day.

Lots of people still milled throughout the city, most of which stopped in their tasks to stare at us as we walked by. Their unabashed inspection was nothing compared to those within the court. I extended a small smile in response.

Nickolai must have noticed because in the next moment he whispered, “See? This isn’t so bad, is it?”

Sure, because smiling out of politeness at people who are staring at me means that I’m enjoying myself . I internally rolled my eyes. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, though, I lied, “No, it’s not.”

We walked to the square where there were only a few market stands remaining.

Each of the owners was most likely bracing against the growing cold at the chance for additional coppers to feed their families.

My heart clenched for them. But I wasn’t given any more time to think about them as Nickolai pulled me toward the center of the city, along the river.

“What are we doing?” I said, slightly jogging beside him as I tried to keep up with his enthusiastic strides.

“You’ll see,” he said suggestively.

We entered a massive building with a dome-like roof, and were immediately greeted by warmth and a grand staircase that split halfway up to go in opposite directions. The architecture absolutely took my breath away. The castle was one thing, but this building looked like it was built for the gods.

My mouth was wide open as I looked around, trying to soak up each intricate detail.

But it was no use—each millimeter of space was filled with some image or feature depicting what seemed to be a story within the art.

My open mouth turned into an ear-to-ear smile as I faced Nickolai, asking, “What is this place?”

“The Opera House,” he said, taking his eyes of me for a brief moment to cast an appreciative glance around.

My heart instantly swelled. There was no way he could’ve known that I loved music—I didn’t recall ever telling him. It had to be happenstance. Or from Zeke reading my memories. Either way, I was extremely grateful.

“I love the opera,” I admitted and watched as relief washed over him with my revelation.

"Well then you are certainly going to love this next part," he stated with a smirk.

Guided me up the stairs, he led us to an area blocked off by a red rope, which was removed be a guard as we approached.

We turned the corner and walked down a small hallway that got dark before brightening again to show a three-walled room with chairs overlooking a balcony that opened to an expansive and round theater.

The wall of the theater was filled with box after box and even more artwork taking up the rest of the available space, while the center floor was covered in hundreds of chairs.

Our box was double the size of the others and looked to start on the second floor facing the stage head-on.

I could feel my mouth hanging open once again, but there wasn’t enough care within me to pick it up as I took in the extravagant detail of the room.

I’d thought that the lobby was something to be amazed by, but the theater itself was in a whole other category of awe.

Even the people who filed in from beneath us were dressed it some of the most lavish attire.

Nickolai’s gentle touch grazed my lower back as his other hand reached out for me, encouraging me to face him. “Do you like it so far?”

Shaking my head, I exclaimed, “I love it!”

His mouth split into a wide, genuine smile before he placed a quick kiss on my lips.

It was torture to pull apart, but as we did, the room began to dim with most of the lanterns being put out.

We made quick work of sitting down in the cushioned chairs.

Each one was accompanied by its own table and two gold cone-shaped pieces connected and attached to a matching stick.

Trying to ignore all of the faces that began to stare at us, I grabbed the cone device, brows furrowing as I turned to Nickolai for help. “Not to sound stupid, but uh. . . What are these?” I questioned, holding them up.

“I thought you’ve been to the opera before, you said you loved it?”

Heat filled my cheats, “Well, here’s the thing, I have only heard it from backstage. . . After I escaped Wrodgow, I would sneak into the opera house in Brenillin to have a warm place to sleep when barns weren’t available.”

He watched me for a moment, drawing more and more blush to the surface of my skin with the longer it took for him to say anything.

It was embarrassing. Here I was, a woman who literally had to break into shelters growing up.

And yet he was the king of the kingdom I had been hiding out in for the last twelve years.

He’s probably never had to worry about where he was going to sleep or when his next meal would be.

Or if each upcoming winter would be the one to finally take him.

We were so different.

I felt my emotions rising, trying to bring tears to my eyes in the process.

Dropping my head to the glistening metal, I debated whether I should give up now and leave when his voice broke through my thoughts.

“You are amazing,” he said bluntly. I blinked—taking in his words—before finally looking up at him in shock.

“I admit, I sometimes forget just how strong you truly are. You have been through so much, Mira, and I don’t want you to ever have to deal with that again.

You deserve the world,” he finished, brushing a piece of my hair behind my ear.

I couldn’t stop the tear from slipping down my cheek at his beautiful words. I wiped it away as he grabbed his own set of gold cone things. Gripping it by the stick, he pointed the shapes so the bigger end faced the stage.

“These are like glasses to help you see the people on the stage better,” he explained.

“Why not sit closer to the stage?”

“Because the box seats grant you something that the seats in the center don’t” Nickolai said suggestively.

“What?”

“More space,” he answered with a smirk that had me crossing my legs to help dull the ever-growing desire for him. I had a feeling I was in for quite the surprise of what opera was truly like when you weren't hiding under props in the back.

Moving the instrument into the position that Nickolai had his own, I held them up to my eyes in time for a beautiful woman wrapped in a light, airy, gold gown that flowed at the slightest movement to walked out onto the stage.

Half of her dark hair was pulled up into a large bun atop her head while the rest of her hair hung down in curls.

But none of that was compared to the smile on her face.

One filled with both confidence and excitement.

The crowd hushed as she stepped up to her spot and took a settling breath.