Page 17

James’s first thought as his gaze landed on her face was that no woman ever born was as beautiful as Ahnna Kertell. The second was that constantly being in her presence was going to be very much a problem.

They stared each other down, and then she said, “You again.”

“I’m afraid so.”

Ahnna sighed. “Let me guess. Your brother couldn’t be bothered to find his way out of his wine long enough to greet me properly?”

“He’s likely been apprised of the nature of your acid tongue and needs more fortitude.”

“How many drinks did you need to bolster the courage to escort me?”

Three. All of which he regretted, because they encouraged thoughts he had no business thinking. “None,” he replied, “but then again, I’m not the one who has to marry you.” He held out his hand. “You coming, Your Highness, or shall I request your dinner be brought to the top of the stairs so that we might continue this delightful exchange without interruption?”

Ahnna’s hazel eyes narrowed, but she gave no commentary as she descended. Most ladies clutched the railing or the hand of an escort, but Ahnna did not so much as glance down at the steps, moving with the grace of a dancer and the confidence of a lioness. Her hand closed on his arm, grip firm as he turned her down the corridor.

“I confess,” she said, lengthening her stride. “I’m surprised to see you will be attending dinner.”

“And why is that?” He increased his own stride to match hers.

“Didn’t your father keep you behind for a tongue-lashing over the loss of his ship?”

“Hardly. We had a drink.”

“So much for not needing liquid fortitude.”

“We were discussing more important matters than you, ” he said stiffly, annoyed over being caught in a lie.

Ahnna only made a humming sound, increasing her pace again and forcing him to match or fall behind.

“Slow down,” he growled. “This is not dignified.”

“Walk faster,” she replied. “I’m hungry.”

Any faster and he’d have to break into a run, and James did not fail to notice that all the servants were staring at them with concern over the urgency of their pace. “We’re late,” he said to one, his irritation flaring as Ahnna gave a soft laugh.

“You are behaving like a child, Your Highness,” he said, giving another servant a reassuring nod. “A child raised in a barn rather than a palace.”

“A boat, if you wish to be accurate, Your Highness. ” She cast a sideways smirk at him, a glimmer of gold cosmetics accentuating her hazel gaze. “You should worry less about what people think of you.”

“And you should worry more.”

Her gaze snapped forward, and he knew that he’d struck a nerve. Yet rather than enjoying the moment of getting the upper hand in their endless arguments, James felt like an ass. “My compliments to Hazel. She has outdone herself tonight.”

The corner of her mouth turned up. “And here I thought to suffer your criticism over my lack of skirts. Unladylike and undignified and unbecoming were words that came to mind.”

As though words were even possible with those long legs stretching out with each stride she took, the silk clinging to the muscles beneath, his only thought what it would be like to have those legs wrapped around him again. “The style does not negate Hazel’s skill.”

“I’ll tell her.” Her eyes flicked up, catching him watching her. “I see you’ve availed yourself of your own tailor. Shame. I enjoyed your too-small shirts, for they had about as much give as your sense of propriety.”

James’s cheek flushed, and seeing they’d reached the doors to the ballroom, he hauled her bodily to a halt, be damned what the gaping guards said. “Never have I met a lady like you.”

“Thank you, James,” she said with a wink, but there was an odd hollowness to it. “You always make me feel so special. Usually right before you tell me to go back to where I came from.”

His lips parted but no retort came forth, and the doors were already opening, the herald announcing them. Yet as their titles poured from the man’s lips, he watched Ahnna’s behavior shift. The smirk fell away, along with the amusement and the nerves he suspected the repartee had hidden, and in its place rose the princess of the wildest kingdom in the known world.

Chin up, shoulders back, and eyes cool, she surveyed the watching nobility with an air that he’d have described as haughty on any other woman. But for Ahnna, it was nothing but the purest form of confidence. Wild and untamed, and every goddamned part of him wanted her.

She’s not for you. Never for you.

She tightened her grip on his arm, and instinctively, he stepped forward. Not leading her but matching her as she strode down the long path leading to the head table. The nobility all bowed and curtsied as they passed, the idiots among them tittering about her trousers and scars, but James marked how the real players among them watched Ahnna with interest, reevaluating what they’d believed they were getting with the Ithicanian princess even as they recalculated how they might use her in their own endeavors.

Ahnna’s eyes roved over them with dispassionate interest, and James heard one of his sister’s ladies-in-waiting whisper, “Did you see how she looked at me? I thought she might leap forward and cut my throat!”

James waited until they’d walked another few paces, then murmured, “Don’t let it go to your head, Highness. I’ve heard Elizabeth say the same thing about the queen’s lapdogs.”

“You do God’s work in keeping my ego in check, Highness. ”

It was a struggle not to smile.

That struggle vanished as his eyes flicked to the head table, the degree to which she’d distracted him rendered apparent as he abruptly realized his brother was not seated to Alexandra’s left. Not in the room at all.

Shit.

Stopping before the table, James locked eyes briefly with his father before bowing low. Ahnna did the same, titters that she’d not curtsied filling the air behind them. His father’s expression was bland, but James felt the irritation over William’s absence seething from him. Alexandra’s tight-pressed lips suggested that she’d borne the brunt of his ire.

His father rose to his feet, Alexandra silently rising next to him. “We welcome you, Princess Ahnna, and hope that you will come to regard our home as your own.”

“I hope for this as well, Your Grace,” Ahnna responded. “Thank you for your gracious hospitality.”

His father inclined his head and then sat, James’s cue to escort Ahnna to her seat. As he pushed the chair beneath her, he inhaled, struck by the scent of her. Sea salt and jungle, petrichor and lightning, as if the scents of Ithicana were part of her. He stood frozen for a heartbeat, eyes fixed on the woven braids of her hair, the light from the chandeliers above turning strands of it amber and walnut and gold. Like the forests of Cardiff in the fall.

Remembering himself, he moved to her right, jostling the table as he sat, wine and water nearly sloshing over the rims of their respective glasses. Though he kept his eyes forward, James could feel Alexandra’s irritation at his error, could sense the nobility watching every facial expression. He prayed they’d blame his endless conflict with the queen for the tension and not suspect anything untoward in his feelings for the princess next to him.

His father recovered the moment, turning to Ahnna, his elbow resting on the table and yet another of his strange mixed drinks in his free hand. “Lady Ahnna. Might I say, you are positively radiant this evening. A true beauty.”

A faint blush colored Ahnna’s cheeks, her lips parting to speak, but his father added, “It pleases me that you’ve chosen to wear traditional Ithicanian attire. Most of the ass-kissers who come into my court dress in the latest Harendellian fashions, not seeming to understand how tremendously dull that makes them. Like being stuck in a world cast in a thousand shades of gray when all I dream of is color.”

“Your Grace’s metaphor would be more apt if I were not wearing gray myself,” Ahnna responded, and his father grinned, his infamous charm out in full force as he said, “And yet my point stands, for you are the only one in this room not leaping to claim me the greatest poet of my generation. You are a breath of fresh air, Ahnna. Truly, Ithicana’s loss is our gain.”

“You should not disparage guests who wear our fashion, husband,” Alexandra murmured, sipping from her glass. “They do it as a sign of respect for the culture and morals of our great nation, and while that may not be of any great entertainment, we must acknowledge the courtesy.”

He’d warned Ahnna this would come, but James still found himself holding his breath to see how Ahnna would respond. Waiting for the same irreverence she always delivered upon him. However, Ahnna said, “It is not my intention to show a lack of courtesy or to disrespect Harendell, Your Grace. Quite the opposite. You invited me to Harendell as part of a greater alliance with Ithicana, and my intention is to represent with total honesty what both I and my homeland bring to this alliance. To present myself in any other way would be misrepresentation, and I do not wish to begin my life in Harendell with dishonesty.”

It was impossible not to respect her words even as James felt his guilt surge about his own dishonesty.

“If these are your goals, I applaud you in your success in achieving them,” Alexandra said, then took a small mouthful of her wine.

Ahnna gave the slightest nod, and James winced internally, for the queen’s words were no compliment. Ahnna was out of her depth, every one of his warnings having fallen on deaf ears, and he wanted to scream, Go home before they destroy you!

Instead, he took a mouthful of wine.

God help him, he hated being at court. Hated how attributes were weaknesses to be exploited, every person in this room grasping and reaching for more more more with no care for what was right. Not an ounce of real morality in the lot of them, himself included, for no one was more at odds with Ahnna than he was.

“Your sentiments are admirable, Ahnna,” his father said. “And appreciated, for the actions of the Veliants left a sour taste in my mouth. It is good to see that you have risen above rather than been drawn down to their level.”

Don’t bite, James silently screamed, but a genuine smile warmed Ahnna’s face. “Exactly this, Your Grace. I wish to represent Ithicana’s intentions without deception.”

“I assume those intentions are not to invade?” When Ahnna went still, his father laughed and gave her a wink. “I jest. Which is likely in poor taste, for I know the wounds Maridrina inflicted on Ithicana are far from healed. War takes such a toll, especially on the people who can least afford it.”

Ahnna’s voice caught as though she’d been about to confirm, but instead, she reached for her water glass, sipping at it before she said, “My people are strong and resilient, and war is no stranger to Ithicana, for every nation, north and south, has brought violence to our shores.”

His father’s eyes gleamed; he was clearly pleased to discover that Ahnna was not entirely oblivious to the game he played. “Crossing blades in battle one hour only to exchange coins in trade in the next?”

Ahnna lifted one shoulder. “If we did not trade with nations who have attacked us, the bridge would be empty.”

“Of course.” His father took a mouthful of his drink. “Though I can’t imagine how it must have felt to invite the Maridrinians back to Southwatch after everything they’d done. To do business with those who’d slaughtered Ithicanian children, rather than seek revenge against them.”

His father was playing on Ahnna’s emotions to dig and dig and dig, and though James knew this was the way of politics, he still hated watching it happen.

Ahnna was quiet, then she said, “Silas Veliant was the villain, not the Maridrinian people.”

“Silas, yes. But also his daughter.” Another sip of the drink. Another smile. “Lara. We were led to believe that Silas’s invasion plans were delivered to him by Ithicana’s own queen.” Not giving Ahnna a chance to respond, his father added, “I can’t imagine how it must feel to have to bend the knee to the woman who stabbed you in the back. You invited her into your home, treated her like family, and the entire time, she conspired against you. That is a great deal to be asked to forgive.”

His father’s real interest was in whether the act of forgiveness was unforgivable. Whether in forgiving his wife, Aren had created a divide with his sister that could be deepened and widened for Harendell’s benefit.

The muscles in Ahnna’s jaw tensed, and then she said, “Lara killed Silas in the battle for Eranahl, a death I witnessed with my own eyes. She is loyal to my brother and to Ithicana. Carries the heir to Ithicana—my future niece or nephew.”

“That you’ve forgiven Lara speaks to your character,” his father responded, deliberately interpreting what she’d said as absolution. “I would not have been able to do so.”

Ahnna leaned fractionally closer to his father, seeming to drink in the words, little knowing that he was only validating what James had told him about her strained relationship with Lara.

His father mirrored the motion, co-conspirator in a confession. “I would not be able to sleep at night, tormented by the faces of those who died under Maridrinian blades, all while she lived and laughed. I would be consumed.” He waved the hand holding the drink, the contents nearly going over the rim. “You’re a better woman than I am, Ahnna.”

“That’s not much of an accomplishment,” she said without hesitation. “For you are no woman.”

His father barked out a laugh. “Oh, you are a delight. A balm to my boredom. But let us turn to lighter topics. How do you feel about adulterated spirits?”

Ahnna went stiff as a board, the color draining from her face, and James knew the only word she’d heard was adultery. To spare her, he swiftly said, “He refers to mixed drinks. Concoctions of various sorts of liquors and the occasional syrup. It is my father’s newest hobby, but show care, my lady, for the sweetest drinks tend to pack the hardest punch.”

“A hobby.” Ahnna said the word as though it were a foreign concept.

“Father gains a new hobby every year,” came Virginia’s voice from down the table, his sister leaning forward. “And we must all participate. We are, all of us, very talented at croquet, taxidermy, and rose gardening, to say nothing of horse racing, hunting, tennis, and lawn bowling.”

“You make me sound inconstant in my pursuits, darling,” his father complained. “Jamie, be a good lad and offer some support.”

James shrugged. “You are well rounded in your interests, Father.”

“Bullies, all of you.” His father motioned at the servants to begin bringing out the food. “All I do is try to expand your minds, and in exchange, I must suffer your abuse. Ahnna, the mixing of spirits is as much an art as it is a science, and our culinary schools are creating whole books on the topic. I would like to take you to visit them, for I think that you might—”

He cut off as the herald abruptly announced, “His Most Royal Highness, Crown Prince William.”