Page 5 of The Throne Seeker (Vallorian #1)

F ollowing dinner, Rose headed to her room to get ready for the celebration.

Her room was in the east wing, close to her mother’s.

Not a thing had changed. The huge canopy bed stood against the left wall, draped with her favorite creamy-white sheets, matching the flowing curtains next to the wide-open balcony doors, revealing a wide view of the gardens and sea.

To her right sat a washtub, dresser, and vanity, along with the floor-length brass-framed mirror she was currently facing.

She stared at the stranger looking back at her.

She was a bit unnerved to be in such a sophisticated gown, having grown used to wearing the same ten or so dresses over the past year.

Being surrounded by those whose sole purpose was to attend to her every need was equally unnerving.

They fussed over her hair and makeup like she was someone important.

It wasn’t something she was particularly accustomed to and probably never would be.

Part of her wished they would leave her alone, yet she was eternally grateful when they finished because she knew she couldn’t have achieved what they did in an hour, not even if she had a week to prepare.

She was swimming in a sea of blue and gold.

Her long, ashy-brown hair was partially braided, while the rest cascaded into a waterfall of curls past her shoulder blades, sparkling with a soft dust of gold.

It went perfectly with the golden flecks they sprinkled on her collarbone and cheeks.

The steel-blue dress fell effortlessly to the floor, smooth as butter against her skin.

She was used to the flowy, loose fit, designed to conceal the growing lean muscle she had recently gained.

The modest fit was aimed to portray an illusion of weakness. “Appear weak and delicate, and no one will suspect you’re a threat,” her mother had once said.

In truth, Rose and her mother hadn’t simply been absent from court for an extended grieving period like they had led everyone to believe.

After her father’s passing left them vulnerable and without family support, her mother had enlisted the help of Warren, a retired soldier, who’d agreed to teach them self-defense.

During this training, Warren also had Rose volunteer to assist the healers when the troops passed through Canteran.

Initially, helping the healers had just been part of her training, but she’d soon discovered she liked being useful and she was quite good at it.

As those grueling, character-building months went by, she had become accustomed to dirt under her nails and sweat trickling down her brow.

Now, to be standing in such a lovely gown…

Her appearance exuded royalty. But inside, she felt like a fraud.

Naturally, her mother was completely in her element—overseeing and directing the final touches to her dress and makeup.

It reminded her of how her mother had been raised in one of Catalena’s wealthiest Houses, born into a life of luxury and prestige.

The loss of that lifestyle had been distressing for her mother, to say the least. If Rose sparkled like a diamond tonight, she’d have her mother to thank.

Once her mother was satisfied, she thanked the servants and dismissed them.

“Oh, Rose, you look beautiful.” Her mother admired her in all her glory.

She beamed at the praise. “I must get it from my mum.”

Her mother wore a slimming plum dress that brought out her hazel eyes and long, sandy-blonde hair, which was elegantly styled in a neat updo, pinned and tucked into soft, graceful waves.

“Well, of course.” Her mother winked with glittering eyes. “No one will be able to keep their eyes off you. Mark my words. You’ll be the talk of the entire province by the time the night is over. Tristan will have his hands full trying to keep suitors away from you tonight.”

Rose faced the mirror again. Before she could gather her thoughts, an overwhelming grief nearly flattened her, bringing her father’s face to the forefront of her mind.

What would he have done if he were here? Would any part of him regret what he did?

Her grief transformed into molten steel, simmering the anger that bubbled just under her skin. She clung to that rage, holding on to it for dear life because, by the gods, it was all she had left.

She scolded herself for even giving a damn.

Her mother’s face fell. “Rose? What is it?”

She hesitated, wondering if she should even honor his memory by speaking of him. “Is it odd to wonder what he’d do if he were here?” Her tired eyes met her mother’s in the mirror’s reflection.

Her mother stared back at her, knowing who she spoke of. Surely surprised that he was on Rose’s mind at all, especially since she insisted they never mention him. “No… no, it’s not, sweetheart.”

Her mother’s reply didn’t make her feel any better. “It’s just as well.” She glared into the mirror. “He’d have only auctioned me off to the highest bidder.”

Her mother took a step toward her, determination radiating in her eyes. “He was a fool. A fool who couldn’t see the things he had, only the things he didn’t.”

“Why was I never enough for him?” She allowed her pent-up anger to surface.

Her mother gazed at her with a strength she was sure she’d never possess.

“What he did can never be forgiven by mere mortals. It’s natural to hold onto hate.

But you’ll discover that the greatest revenge you can ever hope to have is to be happy.

There are two roads you can take. You can either go down the road that keeps you crippled and let him destroy every happy day for the rest of your life, never to escape him…

or you can free yourself from the poison and decide to be happy— genuinely happy—and give yourself the life you deserve. ”

Rose paused, allowing the words to sink in. Clinging to her hatred was only crippling her. Not her father— her . It was a poison she kept choosing to drink. And only she had the power to set down the glass.

She offered her mother a tender smile, forever grateful for the strength she instilled in her each day. “Thank you,” she murmured, allowing a tear to escape.

Her mother gasped. “Rose, your makeup!” She rushed to catch the tear with a handkerchief.

And just like that, the moment was gone.

“There.” Her mother carefully extracted her hand. “No harm done.” Stepping back, her mother scanned her one last time. “You’re ready. Now let’s go show you off—Blast, where did that fan go?” She searched around, retracing her steps.

Rose gathered her skirt to take a look with her until a distant noise came from the balcony door.

She strained her ears. It sounded like… carriages—a great deal of carriages.

Intrigued, she forgot about her mother’s missing fan and went to the balcony, ignoring the crisp evening chill threatening to seep through her dress.

She peered through the faint glow of the twin moons as their light filtered down to the grounds. It didn’t take long to find the source of the commotion.

A multitude of men swarmed the long road to the castle. Some walked, while others rode on horseback. Their red and gold uniforms gave them away immediately—the soldiers.

A wave of warmth washed over her at the sight of so many returning home.

Although she knew she shouldn’t linger, her feet were rooted to where she stood.

She watched as they approached the castle doors, eager to enter.

They all appeared to be in high spirits, undoubtedly pleased to have a good meal and a warm bed to sleep in tonight.

One soldier in particular stood out to her above the rest. He wore a different uniform than the others, and though it was hard to see through the darkness, she gathered he was a broad man, with dark, wavy hair that reached just below his ears.

He spoke with two castle guards while pointing and directing them.

He didn’t seem as eager to enter the castle as his fellow comrades.

Her eyes shifted away from him, searching the crowd for any trace of Roman, but it was futile. The night’s darkness obscured any recognizable faces. She returned her gaze to the soldier, who, this time, met her stare.

She inhaled sharply as her limbs stiffened, unnerved by the unexpected connection.

In that instant, something dormant inside her stirred as if a long-lost part of herself had been jolted awake. The unfamiliar feeling swelled within her, struggling to seize control of her limbs. She pinned her arms to her side, trying to take steady breaths.

The soldier gradually removed his hat, maintaining eye contact as he let the faint moonlight shine on half of his face.

Although his hair resembled Roman’s, he was far too muscular to be him.

Roman was merely a boy; this was clearly a man.

They stayed trapped in each other’s eyes until another soldier drew his attention away.

Set free from the daze, Rose regained control of her limbs and quickly backed away from the balcony.

She returned to the room’s warmth, swiftly closing and locking the door behind her. Her heart raced as she pressed her back against it.

“Rose?” her mother said, reminding her that she was still waiting. “What were you doing out there?”

“Nothing,” she replied at once.

Her mother shot her a strange look but dismissed it. “Well, come on then, or we’ll be late!”

She followed her mother, hesitating at the door. She glanced at the balcony one last time, shaking off the lingering strange feeling, before shutting it behind her.