Page 44 of The Throne Seeker

When it came time to head to the grand hall for breakfast, she and Zareb managed to shuffle through the packed room, claiming the seats her mother had saved.

Glancing across the tables, she spotted Tristan, who looked as anxious as she felt. His tousled, loose curls framed his face as he focused on his plate. Somehow, it was reassuring to see that even Tristan, who was a natural at public speaking, seemed nervous.

Her mother eyed her blue dress with disappointment. “I wish you’d worn the pink dress for once. It looks so elegant on you. Oh, and I got you fruit.” She slid the plate toward Rose. “I kept it light in case you begin to feel woozy like you do when you get anxious.”

“If anything is going to give me anxiety, it’s you,” Rose snapped, pouring herself a glass of juice. She immediately felt guilty for her tone, blaming her nerves for being on edge.

Her mother ignored her snide remark, looking out over the crowd. “You better be careful, Rose; I saw Grant eyeing you on your way in.”

“I’ll try to keep my wits about me,” she drawled, sipping her drink as she eyed Zareb’s plate of eggs and bacon with jealousy.

She scanned faces of the court members around her, until something made her eyes stop in their tracks.

Beth and Roman sat side by side, engaged in conversation. About what, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the smile that grew on his face as Beth leaned over and whispered something into his ear.A smile.

An invisible hand clenched at her gut.

She forced her gaze away to the head table—where something even more pressing caught her attention.

Two unfamiliar women had joined the front table. The first was an older, pale woman with short brown hair, hollow cheeks, and thin, pursed lips. Her sharp eyes surveyed the crowd, reflecting a look of disgust. Unlike the typical attire of Cathan, she wore a green and brown dress woven with small leaves.

Beside the stern-looking woman sat a younger girl in a similar outfit, likely just a few years younger than Rose. She was a tad plain-looking, with long, light-brown hair and matching brown eyes. A splash of pink rested on her high, rosy cheekbones. Her green dress almost swallowed her, draping elegantly around her petite figure.

It was obvious they were from Vertmere by their forest-green attire, but what were they doing here? Moreover, why were they at the head table? There must have been a dozen guards in green uniforms standing behind them.

As the older woman turned, a small, gold crown made of vines gleamed from atop her head. They both wore one.

A sinking sensation twisted in her stomach. “Who are they?”

Her mother followed her eyeline, her face shifting into an expression Rose couldn’t decipher. “That is Queen Isleen and Princess Satin of Vertmere,” she informed dryly.

Rose’s face contorted as her mother confirmed her suspicions. “Why are they here?” she whispered.

“They are here to finalize post-war negotiations—or so I’ve heard. They’ll be here for the remainder of the succession.”

Rose frowned, popping a sour grape into her mouth. Why did they need to come in person? And why were only the queen and princess present? The rest of the court seemed to share the same questions, all eyes fixated on the foreigners. But then it dawned on her that if they sought to ensure this peace treaty would last, the next ruler would need to align with the terms—no use making a peace treaty only for it to be unraveled in the next generation.

Without forewarning, a servant presented a large bouquet before her, drawing her gaze back to the table.

To her surprise, they were the lunar flowers she had shown Grant during their garden tour, elegantly arranged in a milky-white vase, untouched in their expansive pods.

Her mother’s eyes lit up at the bouquet, scooting toward it. “Oh, those are stunning. Who are they from?”

Her mother made a grab for the note, but Rose swiped it from the bouquet first, throwing her mother a reprimanding look as she opened the card discreetly. But it didn’t stop her mother from poking her nose over her shoulder.

For the woman who opened up in darkness the same way these did.

Good luck at the rally tonight.

- Grant

PS I hope you think about touching my bare skin when these bloom.

She couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her. He was persistent. She’d give him that.

She looked up to find Grant just a few tables down from hers. His bright green eyes were already hooked on her, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips, looking satisfied by her reaction.

Her mother nudged her in the ribs. “Careful, Rose, you might look like you’re enjoying Grant’s advances.”