Page 51 of The Throne Seeker (Vallorian #1)

T he crystal-teardrop chandelier hung gracefully above the room, decorated with garlands like those on the tables.

Underneath it, in the center of the dance floor stood a fountain, which Rose suspected was filled with champagne, the bubbly liquid creating a perfect centerpiece.

This was truly a magnificent celebration—one that she had been looking forward to.

She only wished she’d be able to enjoy it.

Her mother noticed her downfallen eyes, taking her hand and squeezing it tightly. “I’m sorry about Zareb… I know how much he meant to you. I liked him very much, too, to be honest, even if he was dreadfully serious,” her mother teased, offering a small, sympathetic smile.

Rose changed the subject before tears broke out again, her eyes flickering to nearby faces who were all watching her. “Why is everyone staring?” she whispered.

Her mother gave her a knowing smile. “They’re admiring their future queen—speaking of which, where’s Tristan?” she asked, scouring the dance floor.

Rose saw him first, already dancing, his messy blond hair giving him away.

He was wearing a striking ruby red tunic, looking as handsome as ever.

His partner was dressed in a beautiful green gown, her brown hair curled in ringlets around her petite face.

It took Rose a moment, but she realized it was Princess Satin.

Of course it was.

“It looks like the negotiations are going well,” Rose stated dryly, plucking a shrimp off the tree-like glass tower sitting at the center of the hors d’oeuvres table.

Her mother pursed her lips. “I know he only has eyes for you, but I admit… she’s becoming quite the nuisance.” She eyed the foreign princess like she was an invasive insect.

Rose raised an eyebrow playfully. “You surprise me, Mum. That isn’t very ladylike of you to say.”

Her mother waved her comment off. “Poppycock.” Her mother’s eyes brightened as a mischievous smile spread onto her face. “Why, I think I see a handsome man coming your way, Rosalie.”

She turned and spotted Grant coming straight for her, his green tunic matching his emerald eyes. Despite his defeat, he held himself high, inclining his neck with a small bow.

“Good evening. Evelyn. You look as radiant as ever.”

“Oh, you use my love of flattery against me.” Her mother blushed, smoothing her hair.

Rose fought a harsh laugh. So easily won over by compliments. But he was right. Her mother could woo many hearts if she wanted to.

Grant’s green eyes zeroed in on Rose, devouring her form-fitting dress.

Seeing as how the council had seen her nearly naked, her mother no longer saw a need to hide her frame.

But now that she thought about it, she wondered if her mother had intentionally chosen the dark-purple dress as an intentional flaunt to Tristan. A true partner in crime.

“Would you care to dance, Rose?” Grant’s voice drawled, a large grin sweeping across his face. “Your lover seems busy at the moment.”

Her eyes slid to Tristan, the scene of him dancing with Satin only fueling her fire.

She took the hand he held out. “I’d be honored,” she accepted with a plotting smile of her own.

Grant guided her to the dance floor, merging into a sea of couples. As they moved, she locked eyes with Tristan, then deliberately redirected her attention to Grant, knowing it’d drive him mad.

Grant led her across the shiny marble floor, drawing her in so close she could feel his crisp breath on her face. Her breath hitched, and he smirked.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright. You had me at my wits’ end on that fish hook.”

She raised an eyebrow, nearly forgetting how half the court had almost witnessed her near death. “Careful, Grant. I might start thinking you actually care.”

“I don’t usually,” he admitted, then a sliver of humanity shone through. “But when I saw you fall into the water… I found out how much I do care.”

Her cheeks flushed at the rare sentiment.

His jewel-like eyes gleamed and he gave her a sly smile, proud he’d left her speechless. “You look stunning, by the way,” he whispered into her ear. “I’ve always known you were beautiful under all that extra fabric, but gods, you are exquisite.”

She hid her deepened blush by gifting him a sly smile of her own. “I may have alternative motives.” She winked at him, knowing if Tristan was watching, the gesture would make him writhe.

Grant gave her a rakish grin. “Dressed for revenge, I see. Oh, I believe I like you on my side.” He spun her around, the fabric of her dress following her movement.

Rose returned from the spin, and he pulled her even closer than before, pressing her body flush with his as he lowered his voice.

“I know what happened with Zareb… I feel I should tell you—I’m partly to blame.

I had kept my word to you, and intended to keep it, but after the succession announcement, Tristan came to me, going on about how he would ruin me, threatening to take my title away.

No matter what I said or did, I couldn’t dissuade him.

He forced me into a corner, and I couldn’t take the fall for it.

I’m sorry I had to tell him the truth. But I didn’t tell him it was Zareb. He figured that out on his own.”

The repressed anger burning in her belly flared. Why did Tristan hate her training so much? What about it was so horrible? Was it really her learning how to fight?

Or was it something else entirely?

“I understand,” she said, “I shouldn’t have asked it of you in the first place.”

Grant’s stubborn head shook sharply. “Tristan had no right,” he stated in the most bold yet sincere voice she’d ever heard from him.

She gazed at him with gratitude and chose to reward his kindness.

She lifted her arms to encircle his neck, drawing him closer so their bodies met, allowing him to rest his forehead gently against hers.

He molded into her touch easily, his arms enveloping her waist, taking full advantage of her rare advance.

“I wish you weren’t just doing this to make him jealous,” he whispered, his cocky demeanor nowhere to be found.

“You play with everyone’s hearts like an instrument—picking us up when it suits you, putting us back when you’re done.

But what’s worse is we know it, and we don’t care because we have no power to resist you.

Because when you do pick us… we’re just glad to be held by you. ”

Rose’s eyes fluttered, slowly raising her chin, surprised to find how close his lips were to hers.

Despite her best efforts, he was sneaking up on her defenses, dismantling her walls stone by stone until she hadn’t even realized there was a hole wide enough to let him slip through.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tristan striding towards them.

“I was wondering how long it would take him,” Grant drawled with a bored tone, his hands savoring the last few seconds he would have her like this. “Honestly, he lasted longer than I expected.”

Tristan stopped beside them, not bothering to hide his irritation as he said, “May I interrupt?” It wasn’t a question but a demand.

Grant looked to her for an answer, but she was too angry to speak.

“Perhaps she can come find you when she is ready,” Grant replied, a self-satisfied look plastered on his face.

Tristan glowered. “I wasn’t asking you.”

“I thought you were dancing with Princess Satin?” she asked with a roasting glare.

“I was obligated to,” Tristan said through gritted teeth.

“Well, luckily for you, you hold no such obligation to me,” she responded coldly. “I’m going to get a drink.”

Tristan reached out. “Rose?—”

She pulled her hand back. “Don’t.”

She could’ve felt Grant’s smug joy from a mile away as she retreated from them both, making her way off the dance floor.

She was nearly out of the danger zone when the music stopped, halting her exit. The court quieted almost immediately as all eyes looked to their king on the grand staircase.

“Good evening, everyone!” King Henrik’s thunderous voice rang out. “Tonight, we celebrate my son, Tristan Montague, and his attained succession. We commend his heroic acts during the challenges and the sacrifices Tristan has made to be Cathan’s next ruler.”

The king paused, scanning the crowd until his gaze finally settled on her. She was certain she saw a glimmer of pity in his eyes, as if he were reluctant about something, but without revealing anything else, the king looked away.

“I have more good news,” the king continued, more somber now despite his joyous words. “Today, we have a proposed finalization of the negotiations with Vertmere!”

The ballroom filled with cheers. During his pause for applause, the king’s gaze met hers once more. A flicker of pain crossed his face as if forewarning her of what was imminent.

The gaze terrified her.

King Henrik straightened his shoulders as the claps died down.

“Never since the Dividing War have any two provinces been united. And ever since I became king, I have dreamed of making Vallor whole again, to return it to its former strength, not as separately ruled provinces, but as one strong people. Today, we are one step closer to that goal.” He paused hesitantly, making her throat bob.

“The treaty they’ve proposed says that we will unite our provinces by joining both heirs to the throne through marriage to ensure our alliance will be sealed forever.

Congratulations is in order for Prince Tristan of Cathan and Princess Satin of Vertmere. ”

Gasps of shock ran through the audience, followed by a rumbling of murmurs that spread like wildfire as claps and cheers followed, growing into a loud thunder.

But their shock was no comparison to hers.

The world stopped orbiting. Time stood still. Those around her became a blur—a cruel reminder that she was nothing but a speck in this vast universe.

No, no, no.

Rose’s clasped hands fell limply to her sides as she slowly stepped back. She didn’t know where to look. She didn’t know what to do. She had seen the king’s sympathetic eyes, and it might have very well been out of his control, but it changed nothing.

How could she have been so blind? Queen Isleen and Princess Satin weren’t merely there for negotiations—they were there to secure a marriage with the next heir, waiting through these succession trials to see who would come out on top.

But if that were true, why had the king led her to believe that she and Tristan could win and be together?

Unless… unless the idea hadn’t been brought up until after the fact.

Maybe once the council realized Tristan would win, they had to find a way to ensure that Rose wouldn’t be queen. And they had found one.

Rose’s feet were still planted to the ground when she realized that couples had begun to dance around her, jolting her from her daze.

Out. She had to get out.

She maneuvered her way through the crowd, nearly at the doors until?—

Roman appeared, dressed in a black tunic, his wide and powerful shoulders blocking her path. His golden eyes shone brighter thanks to the matching gold décor surrounding him. His face was emotionless—per usual when it came to Rose.

She had to control the impulse to slap him across the face.

Roman opened his mouth to speak, but she didn’t give him the chance. She couldn’t hold back the venomous question that spat out in a calm rage. “You’re in charge of the negotiations with Vertmere, are you not?”

Roman had the decency not to gloat as his jaw feathered. “Yes, along with Lord Barron.”

Her chin quivered as her hands balled into fists.

He looked around them as if he was searching for someone. “Where is Zareb?”

Just the mention of Zareb’s name on his lips made her lose composure. “Do you have to rub that in my face, too?” she lashed out with a harsh voice, tears beginning to brim her eyes. “Isn’t it bad enough you brought her here?”

Roman blinked, perplexed by her outburst. “What are you?—”

She encroached upon his space, leaving nowhere for him to look but at her pain-stricken eyes.

“ I am the one who tried to protect Xavier after that night on the beach. I lied about falling on the rocks to protect him. I am the one who helped save Tristan’s life after the first challenge.

I saved your life by getting the phoenix’s tears for you.

I am the one who got us out on the sea beast. I’ve done everything I possibly could for you and your family, and yet still, all I get is suspicion and disapproval! ”

His eyes danced between hers as the harsh lines of his frown softened, like something was finally clicking in his mind.

“You know what? It doesn’t matter. You win,” she dismissed with a defeated tone. With a sharp turn of her heels, she stalked off.

She could have sworn she heard him call to her.

But she didn’t care.