Page 13

Chapter

Thirteen

C assius straightened the cloak-like robe that sat over his lavish tunic, following the movement in his looking glass. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken such care with his appearance prior to a ball. He didn’t ask himself why this time was different.

He wasn’t in the mood for merriment. It had been a frustrating day, with the expected report into the investigation never coming. Even worse, every single time he’d tried to speak to his father, Sir Keavling had somehow been at hand.

Cassius had been watching the nobleman carefully, and there was no doubt he was manipulating the king. But Cassius still couldn’t figure out his motivation. From the inquiries Cassius had made into the nobleman’s new holdings, which were in the north west of Carrack and not particularly close to the border with the continent, he couldn’t see how Sir Keavling would benefit from Carrack reopening trade and diplomatic relations with the kingdoms of the continent. But that didn’t reassure him, because he didn’t accept the nobleman’s claim that he sought to increase the wealth and standing of Carrack more generally. Being ignorant of the nobleman’s true motivation made Cassius uneasy.

Equally unsettling was the interest Sir Keavling took in Flora. The man’s eyes passed often between Cassius and his so-called bodyguard with a gaze far too shrewd for Cassius’s liking. He also suspected that Sir Keavling had been speaking casually with his guards.

It would be inconvenient if the nobleman discovered the tether. Cool logic told Cassius that it would only be disastrous to his pride, but he didn’t quite believe it. Every time he saw the other man’s eyes resting calculatingly on Flora, he felt his stomach tighten in apprehension. The man was dangerous, he just didn’t yet understand the nature of the danger. He did understand, however, that he didn’t want Flora in its path.

“Your Highness.” His valet appeared behind him in the looking glass, faintly disapproving as always. “You wished me to inform you when it was time.”

“Yes,” said Cassius, settling the folds of the cloak one more time and checking that his dress sword—a mainly decorative item—was secure at his side. “Thank you.”

He strode into his receiving room, the valet at his heels.

“It’s not necessary for you to be so punctual, Your Highness,” the man told him. “You ought to arrive once all the guests are assembled.”

“This is when I wish to arrive,” Cassius told him.

He stepped out into the corridor, casting a glance toward Flora’s room before moving down the hall in a leisurely manner. For once, she wasn’t one of the two guards following in his wake.

He’d given some thought to Flora’s protest that she’d never be able to blend in with the other guests. It would be much less conspicuous if they didn’t arrive together, but their hands were tied. His best solution was to set a precise time to leave their rooms. He would go first, and she would follow immediately after, hopefully giving the illusion of coincidence.

The tether didn’t pull him up short, so she must have been ready at the assigned time. When he entered the ballroom, his heart sank a little. The room was even more enormous than he remembered. So much larger than twenty feet across. It was going to be an awkward evening.

His eyes caught Lord Armand in the crowd, and narrowed slightly. The nobleman had been very little help in promoting the marriage alliance to the king. The sense of urgency Cassius had managed to create on the road had faded once they were back in Crandell. Lord Armand had likely guessed that Cassius had his own reasons for keeping the tether quiet and wouldn’t hurry to expose the nobleman’s actions in order to have him punished.

Irritatingly, he was right.

It was good that Cassius had arrived so early. Fewer people were present to take note of the bottleneck Flora’s entrance might create. Cassius hovered near the door long enough to hear the expected protest from the master of ceremonies.

“Excuse me, miss, you are…”

“She’s here at my invitation,” Cassius said carelessly, half turning his head.

“Of course, Your Highness.” The master of ceremonies bowed to him, moving back and allowing Flora free passage.

Cassius didn’t let his eyes properly latch on to her form, instead turning and making his leisurely way around the edges of the room. If he stopped within twenty feet of one of the overflowing refreshment tables, perhaps Flora might actually get the chance to enjoy herself while he was being subjected to the tedium of a ball.

Flora had the sense to stay back while Cassius greeted his parents, although he could feel her presence as he moved along to claim Lord Armand’s attention. He still hadn’t properly looked at her, hoping to allay any suspicion that their coordinated arrival had been no coincidence.

“Good evening, Your Highness.” Lord Armand bowed deeply.

“Is it, My Lord?” Cassius eyed him coolly. “For some of us, it is a more restricted evening than for others.”

The nobleman shuffled his feet, at least having the decency to look uncomfortable.

“It is regrettable that progress on the alliance has been so delayed, Your Highness.” He cast a glance at the row of guards standing against one wall, his face crinkling in confusion as he saw the distance at which they stood. “Did you find a way after all to…”

He trailed off, one eyebrow rising eloquently. Cassius followed his gaze and at last found himself looking properly at Flora.

He’d been wise not to do so in front of his parents or the master of ceremonies. Surely they would have seen how, having once laid eyes on her, he was finding it difficult to look away.

He’d thought seeing her during the fitting would have prepared him for the effect, but it hadn’t. As the tailor had promised, the gown had been finished to perfection. It hugged Flora’s slim torso like a glove, tightly encasing her arms all the way to her wrists. At her waist, it flared out into a full skirt, the fabric the color of a bluebird’s wings. His efforts in sending a maid to her room hadn’t been wasted, judging by the elegant way her hair was braided into a crown that perfectly graced her head.

There were no words to describe how different she looked dressed for a ball compared to the understated, practical guard attire she usually wore. She looked like…well, like the beautiful, elegant, young woman she was.

It struck Cassius that once her usual trappings were stripped away, there was nothing of the guard in her. Her eyes were alert and watchful as she took in the room, and he didn’t doubt her capability to respond to any threat that arose. But she didn’t stand with the posture of a guard or move like a soldier. She was graceful and poised, much more like a noblewoman than a bodyguard. It was as though in casting off her costume, she’d also discarded the act that went with it. He didn’t think she was even aware of having done so, which convinced him that for whatever reason, playing a part was second nature to her. Why, though? Why did she pretend? What past was she hiding, perhaps even running from? And how was it possible that she could be more confident in herself than anyone he knew—to the point of being impervious to the idle opinions of others—and yet be living her life playing a role designed to hide who she really was?

All of this ran through Cassius’s mind as he took in her calm and self-possessed demeanor. As she moved gracefully around the edge of the room, her full skirts stirring up little puffs of power that he could sense if he focused, other things struck him forcibly as well. But he refused to put words to them, even in his mind. He couldn’t let himself feel the things he was feeling when he looked at Flora. He simply couldn’t afford to.

But there was no denying she was beautiful. That much he could surely be allowed to admit, given it seemed widely accepted by those in her vicinity. He caught a few flashes of surprise, as if the onlookers were amazed to recognize the prince’s new guard in this unexpected setting, but most looked curiously admiring. They were no doubt wondering who the new courtier was.

For the briefest second, Cassius’s imagination broke away from the firm hand that usually held it in check. What if she had been a courtier? What if he’d been allowed to court her?

It was a question better not asked, and he took hold of himself as he turned back to Lord Armand.

“No,” he said shortly, the turmoil within him increasing his anger at the nobleman as he very belatedly responded to the question the other man had never fully formed. “We have not found a way around your enchantment, as you must surely know. We are forced instead to mold circumstances around its restrictions. Something which is highly inconvenient to us both.”

Lord Armand winced. “Your Highness, I can only say that I deeply regret the—”

“You can do better than that by saying nothing,” Cassius cut him off. “And instead helping me promote the alliance that will untangle the mess you created.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” The nobleman looked at something over Cassius’s shoulder. “I have made inquiries on that front, and the results are not encouraging.”

Cassius glanced back to see that the other man was watching the king. Predictably and infuriatingly, Sir Keavling was by his side. As Cassius watched, a familiar figure approached his father. The senior guard was the one who had been assigned to lead the investigation into the attacks on Princess Miriam and Cassius. It was his report they’d waited for in vain all day, and he bore every appearance of having just arrived from travel.

Cassius waited a moment for his father to look up and seek him across the room. Surely the king would call his heir—the target of the attack—to receive the report alongside him. But to Cassius’s anger and mortification, King Aelius didn’t even look up. Nor did he send Sir Keavling away as the guard bowed and began to speak.

Balancing speed and dignity, Cassius abandoned Lord Armand and strode around the room. He had to dodge some attempts to approach him, but most guests were occupied with the food. He sensed rather than saw Flora trailing an appropriate distance behind. When Cassius reached his father, she hung back out of hearing range, surreptitiously joining a clump of guests who were receiving chalices from a serving man.

“Do we have a report at last?” Cassius asked his father as he drew alongside him.

“Ah, Cassius.” The king looked him over vaguely. “It seems we do.” He waved a hand at the guard. “Go on.”

The guard bowed to Cassius before continuing. “As I was saying, Your Majesty, my investigators have succeeded in discovering the identities of the attackers. The two groups do not appear to be linked.”

“But they must be,” the king said impatiently. “You tell me that the attack on Princess Miriam and the attack on my son were unrelated? Implausible.”

“I agree, Your Majesty,” the guard assured him. “But it does not seem that the different attackers were known to each other, or shared a common cause.”

“Where did they hail from?”

The question came from Sir Keavling, and Cassius barely held in a scathing rebuke at the inappropriateness of the nobleman inserting himself. It would get him nowhere, given his father had taken it in stride.

“They were Torrenese, My Lord,” the guard said.

“All of them?” pressed Sir Keavling.

“Yes.”

The king and Sir Keavling exchanged a pointed look that raised Cassius’s ire again.

“It seems the treachery of our neighbors to the west runs deeper than we guessed.”

“Indeed, Your Majesty,” Sir Keavling said gravely. “Clandestinely funding disasters and criminal activity within their neighboring kingdoms in order to increase their own prosperity is bad enough. But an open attack against your heir?”

Cassius could scarcely believe his ears at the brazen words.

“You repeat wild gossip as if it’s established fact,” he protested. He turned to the king. “Father, there is absolutely no proof that the Torrenese crown had any hand in the attacks. A group of strangers unknown to each other and with no shared cause doesn’t suggest loyalty to king and country. It suggests loyalty to money. They were most likely hired mercenaries.”

“Who’s speaking speculation as fact now?” his father replied.

Impatient, Cassius turned to the guard. “Do you have more information for us?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” The guard cast a cautious look at the king. “I agree with His Highness that what we’ve learned of the men in question bears all the marks of mercenaries. In fact, at least one of the men who attacked the Siqualian princess was known to be a mercenary for hire. Rumor painted him as highly skilled and deadly. ”

“So highly skilled that a young woman with as much strength as your little finger was able to intercept his attack and kill him without the princess receiving so much as a scratch?” the king said skeptically.

Cassius glanced around, his eyes landing on Flora not far away. She certainly didn’t look deadly, her hands folded calmly in front of her as she watched the musicians taking up their places on the far side of the room. But his father couldn’t be more wrong to characterize her as weak and unskilled. Cassius remembered the attack on the princess perfectly. Flora had been efficient and decisive. She’d saved the life of Princess Miriam, and probably others as well. The would-be assassins had managed to infiltrate the trees without any of them noticing, and their aim had been true. They’d come shockingly close to success.

“What about the men who attempted to waylay me in Torrens?” he asked abruptly.

The guard’s brow was furrowed. “They are more puzzling, Your Highness. They were much easier to track down, hailing from very near where you were attacked. We found no evidence that they were trained or skilled in combat, or that they had a history of mercenary activities. They were, however, both extremely desperate for money. I would be astonished to learn that their motivation was anything but coins, plain and simple.”

Cassius considered this information. It was a very different account from the first attack.

“What about the third man?” he asked. “The one who got away? Any leads on his identity?”

The guard shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Your Highness. If there was a third player, he hasn’t been identified. The two dead men were from the same small community, and had been missing since the evening before you were attacked. It was no great surprise to anyone to learn that they’d gotten themselves into trouble. But there was no one else missing from the town, and every man who could reasonably be a suspect was accounted for at the time of the attack.”

“That’s odd,” Cassius mused.

“Not so odd,” said his father, frowning. “No doubt the other townsfolk are covering for the culprit. We cannot let that stand. Whoever he is must be found and pay the penalty for attempting to harm Carrack’s crown prince.”

“Agreed, Your Majesty,” said Sir Keavling. “It’s an insult not to be endured.”

King Aelius nodded. “Round up every man in that village if necessary.”

“Father, think what you’re saying,” said Cassius quickly. “The village in question is not in Carrack. Your guards have no authority to seize anyone within the borders of Torrens. We must tread with care if we wish to investigate without provoking war.”

“Don’t be naive, Cassius,” said the king. “If the Torrenese didn’t let the fear of war prevent them from mounting an attack on you, we cannot let it hold us back from responding appropriately.”

“They didn’t mount the attack, Father,” Cassius said. “The report suggests that the men were mercenaries.”

“Mercenaries are hired by someone,” the king said.

“Why would the Torrenese king have need of hiring mercenaries?” Cassius demanded.

“To cover his tracks so that if the attack failed, as it did, it would not be tied to the crown,” the king said, frowning. “Do not speak as though you are the only one who understands the precarious nature of our position, Cassius.”

“You don’t seem to,” Cassius argued. “Do you really believe that any king would hire inept and inexperienced assassins for such a delicate plan?”

“Inept, were they?” The king raised an eyebrow. “I seem to recall you returning bandaged from an arrow wound.”

“The more I learn of the situation, the more I’m inclined to think that was sheer luck on their part,” Cassius said. He drew a breath. “Father, I don’t agree with your assessment of Torrens’s likely involvement. But if that is your view, don’t you think it’s all the more reason to seal the alliance with Siqual as soon as possible?”

“Only if Siqual can be trusted,” said the king. “And I am not convinced it can.”

“They did not attack their own princess, Father,” Cassius said in frustration.

Sir Keavling interjected at this point, his deferential tone grating on Cassius. “No one is suggesting it, Your Highness. I wish as much as you do to trust the Siqualians. But if Torrens has been playing us all for fools this entire time, we must consider the possibility that they will have laid plans from the beginning to blame the attack on Carrack. Can we be sure Siqual won’t have believed it? For all we know the sloppy attack against you was a poorly planned attempt to retaliate.”

“It is not credible that the Siqualians could have been persuaded of our perfidy and decided to act swiftly enough to catch me still on the road,” Cassius said. “That suggestion is ridiculous.”

“No one is claiming to have all the answers, Cassius,” his father admonished him. “The point is, there is reason to be cautious and suspicious of both Siqual and Torrens at present. If we were to rush into an alliance, we might be giving them precisely what they want. ”

“That’s the whole point of an alliance,” Cassius said. “For both parties to get what they want!”

“My dear, moderate your tone.” The queen had appeared at her husband’s side, her reproachful gaze fixed on Cassius. “We are at a ball—a ball in your honor—and it is your role as host to make the occasion festive.”

“Mother, there are more important matters on my mind than festivities,” Cassius said in frustration.

“Your mother is right,” the king said. “This is not the time or the place. And there is nothing more to be done at present. I must consult with our ambassador to Siqual before any further action is taken.”

“A wise course, Your Majesty,” said Sir Keavling.

“You haven’t even made contact with the ambassador yet?” Cassius’s protest over the inevitable further delays was cut off by his mother.

“It’s time to open the dancing, Cassius. You will oblige me by dancing with the eldest daughter of the Duke of Norven.”

“I’m in no mood for dancing.” There was no conviction in Cassius’s words. He knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid the necessity. The musicians were already tuning their instruments.

The young woman in question wasn’t difficult to locate. She’d been hovering nearby, the honor clearly expected. It took all Cassius’s willpower to be passably hospitable as he led her onto the large space that was clearing in the center of the ballroom. His eyes strayed to Flora as he passed her, and he caught the flash of alarm that said she was having the same realization he was.

The ballroom was just too enormous, and the dancers were taking up positions in the center of it, far from the spectators along the walls. There was no way Flora could stay within twenty feet of him without being on the dance floor itself.

Cassius’s mind froze, his gaze still locked on Flora’s as he struggled to find a way around the obstacle. But she’d gotten there more quickly. She tore her eyes from his and moved with casual grace toward a pair of young noblemen standing nearby.

Cassius couldn’t hear what passed—Flora didn’t seem to say a word to the men—but the next moment her hand was claimed by one of them, and the pair were following the prince and his partner into the throng.

Something strange and unreasonable stirred within Cassius. Some impulse that, while perfectly understanding the necessity, loathed the sight of the other man holding Flora’s hand in his.

With difficulty, he pulled his attention back to his own partner, hoping she hadn’t noticed his distraction.

There wasn’t much opportunity for distraction in the lively movement of the dance. Cassius’s partner didn’t talk much, her attention mainly focused on ensuring her friends and rivals were observing her dance with the prince with the open envy she wished for.

Flora moved gracefully through the dancers, her blue skirts constantly catching the edges of Cassius’s vision, tormenting him with the discipline it took to keep his gaze forward. They were sometimes close in the dance, sometimes far, but never threatening the twenty-foot boundary.

After the duke’s daughter, there were no fewer than five more damsels awaiting attention thanks to his mother’s complex social machinations. By the time each song began, Cassius had already forgotten the face of the previous song’s partner. It took all his attention not to follow Flora’s progress as she was also forced to enter dance after dance .

It should have been a relief that Flora seemed to be having no difficulty securing invitations to join each dance, so that their tether wasn’t tested.

It should have been, but it wasn’t.

By the time Cassius finished the sixth dance, and his mother mercifully showed no sign of looking up from her conversation to pin him with another silent stare of command, Cassius was exhausted. He would have been glad to spend the next dance by the refreshments.

There was no reason he couldn’t. One glance in Flora’s direction showed that she was attuned to him, watching to see what he would do. There was a hopeful looking young squire edging toward her, so she wouldn’t have difficulty joining the dancers again if Cassius’s movements required her to do so. But if he stayed put, she would decline the offer. She would have to, or they would have the opposite problem of her dancing away out of range while he watched on.

It was a curious sensation, knowing how completely he could control her movements without ever activating the tether. He might chafe at the restrictions, but he still had far more control than Flora did, because she’d chosen to lay aside her own interests to help him keep the tether private. She must feel like a piece of baggage, tugged this way and that by his whims and responsibilities.

It would be out of place for me to complain , he heard her voice again in his mind, given I am nothing but a gift offered to you by the Siqualians.

Cassius found himself moving forward. The only thought in his mind was that he’d treated her with far less respect than she deserved. The poised and beautiful woman who was drawing him to her like a moth to a flame deserved more than respect. More, even, than mere admiration.

He didn’t dare name what she deserved, because it wasn’t something he could give her. He could, however, ask her to give him one dance. There might be consequences, but he didn’t care. He wanted to be the one to take her hand in his this time.

“Dance with me?”

His voice came out so low and gruff, it was no wonder Flora did a double take before meeting his eyes. Her own were uncertain, not like her normal, confident self.

“Are you sure?” Her voice was soft, but he didn’t miss the way she was already shifting toward him, as if her body was disregarding the warning her mind was trying to give it.

“Dance with me.” This time it wasn’t a question—Cassius held out his hand with the air of a royal command, and Flora didn’t hesitate as she slid hers into it.