Page 12 of The Throne Seeker

Her eyes burned as she blinked rapidly to hold back the tears, moved beyond words. Though he never knew of her father’s true nature, his words still filled a void in her damaged heart.

The king called for a toast as a servant approached them, carrying a golden tray with two wine glasses. “Let us raise our glasses to Rose,” the king bellowed. “And to a bright future for Cathan!”

“For Cathan!” they chanted back.

The room filled with applause as she peered out at the sea of faces, keeping her gaze just above their heads, afraid thatmaking direct eye contact would reveal her façade. She strained to shape her lips into a practiced smile, drawing upon years of training and lessons.

King Henrik’s hand remained on her shoulder as her eyes finally landed on the royal family. The instant she saw the queen’s icy stare, she felt a chill emanate from her like a bitter storm, making Rose confident that a single touch would result in frostbite.

Unable to hold her gaze, she shifted her eyes to Harriet, who stood next to Roman, both of whom offered no warmth either. Lowering her chin, she compelled herself to look away.

Perhaps coming back here was more than she’d bargained for.

CHAPTER 6

“Did you see Roman?” her mother asked, eyeing him across the ballroom while Rose rummaged through the dessert table. “An astounding transformation if I’ve ever seen one. I barely recognized him! Why don’t you say hello? I’m sure he’d be happy to see you.”

Rose feigned indifference, concentrating on the cake before her, watching the blue flames that danced on charred peaks of the meringue. “I’m sure he’s been bombarded with people wanting to see him, Mum. I’ll let him catch his breath.” Still, she peeked through the desserts when her mother wasn’t looking, finding him speaking with a handful of soldiers.

“Rose?” a delicate voice said from behind.

She spun around. A bright-eyed blonde girl stood smiling at her. She looked gorgeous, of course, just as she always did. The magenta dress she’d chosen suited her fair skin perfectly. Really, she could wear any color and it would suit her. But that’s just how she was—effortlessly herself.

“Beth?” Her voice rose in pleasant surprise as she smiled back. “I thought it was just your brother and father coming.”

Beth wrapped her in a tight hug. “My mother begged me not to, but I couldn’t miss out on all the fun.” She stepped backand nodded to Rose’s mother. “It’s good to see you, too, Lady Versalles.”

Her mother’s face brightened as she plucked a chocolate-covered wildberry off the table. “Oh please, Beth, you know how old that makes me feel,” she said with a wink. “It’s wonderful to see you, too, my dear.”

“Well, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to say hello. You must have a line of suitors waiting to meet you tonight.” Beth squeezed her hand. “I remember how nervous I was when I came out.”

“Any tips?” Rose asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Oh, it’s quite simple. Don’t talk too much about yourself, don’t step on their feet, and if they can’t find something more interesting to talk about than the weather—run,” Beth advised with a playful smile.

She laughed. “Simple. I like it.”

“Right, well, I’ll see you later then. Don’t forget to have fun!” Beth said, rejoining the sea of gowns and uniforms.

Her mother watched Beth until she was out of earshot. “She has grown to be much more amiable than I thought. You better watch out, Rose; she’s sure to catch some eyes.”

Rose looked to see if Tristan had noticed Beth, but to her pleasant surprise, his deep blue eyes were already on her as he stood next to his mother across the dance floor. Reassurance dissipated her fleeting worry.

Despite herself, she flashed a coy smile.

“I wasn’t worried about Tristan.” Her mother rolled her eyes. “It’s Roman she has her sights on. She’s barely left his side all night.”

She watched Beth’s distant figure to see what direction she’d go. Sure enough, she headed straight for Roman, who was still talking to the same group of soldiers.

Discomfort squirmed inside her as she pressed her lips together, judging the pair. “Isn’t she much older than him?”

Her mother took a sip of the frosted-rimmed red drink in her hand, infused with floating cranberries and a rosemary sprig, before answering. “Heaven knows why her family has waited so long to put her out into society. But I suspect they thought their efforts would be better rewarded if they waited until the war was nearly over.”

“I think they’d be a good match,” Rose concluded after assessing them, her eyes going back and forth between the pair. But even as she said the words, her gut twisted with something ugly that she couldn’t quite explain.

Her mother dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “She can try. But I have a feeling Roman will be quite the popular item.”

Rose refocused on Tristan, who was engaged in conversation with his mother, wearing a determined expression. She knew that look, having seen it many times during their childhood games. It was the face that declared he would stop at nothing to win. But Tristan had met his match against his mother, her face stern and sharp as she lectured him. As they argued, she noticed how Queen Lenna’s ghostly complexion was paler than usual.