TEN
The day of the ball felt a bit like her wedding day, in many ways. Alaia got up to nurse the triplets, and Zorion was already gone. No doubt he was conferring with the nobles whose troops had already started sneaking into the city. There was a limit to how many could stay here without being noticed, of course, but even a hundred men already inside the city was better than a thousand outside.
Once the children were settled with Galena and Lorea, she went to take her bath and eat her breakfast, though she was already so nervous she could hardly swallow. Maude helped her with her dress and hair, and Lorea came by to help with cosmetics and jewelry. Alaia felt a bit like a cake being frosted, but when she saw herself in the mirror, she felt, for the first time, like a princess.
Somehow, it was already late afternoon, and as Maude was trying to persuade her to eat something else, there was a commotion downstairs that told everyone Zorion was home.
Itzal came into the parlor, his eyes gleaming. “Everything is going well, but I told your husband he wasn’t allowed to see you until he got dressed. Otherwise we’ll never get out the door.” Alaia nodded, clasping her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking.
Her stomach felt like it was full of grasshoppers. All too soon, she would be standing in front of everyone, not just friends and family, but a whole city’s worth of nobility. Some of them might be Zorion’s allies, but others would undoubtedly be his enemies, and everyone would be watching to see if she was worthy to be married to the Crown Prince.
“I’ll make you a cup of tea to settle your nerves,” Maude said. “It will take your husband some time to get himself ready. The tea did help; even the warmth of the cup in her hands was soothing, and her heartbeat slowed. She even managed to eat a piece of fruit, and then they all heard footsteps coming down the hallway. Alaia would never have said before that a man had taken her breath away, but that was how she felt at the moment Zorion entered the room.
The golden silk of his long jacket made his skin almost glow with warmth and life, and his eyes shone like embers. The pants and vest underneath were the same dark blue as her dress, but as he came closer, she could see that the embroidery was of tiny suns and clouds. He held out his hand to her, pulling her to her feet.
“You look… stunning,” he said, his voice quiet and low. “Are you sure we have to go to the Gala? I think I’d like to keep you for myself.”
“That’s exactly what Lorea said you would say,” she replied. “You’re looking quite handsome this evening as well. I’m glad we’re already married, lest some foreign princess steal you away.”
“Never,” he said fiercely, pulling her in for a kiss.
“None of that, young man,” Maude said, rapping him on the arm with a folding fan. “Your children are waiting out here to bid you farewell, and then it’s time for you to go.”
Of course, the children weren’t really waiting for them, but Lorea and Galena and Maite were each holding a child in their arms, and Alaia kissed each of their plump cheeks, ducking out of reach of grabbing fingers. Zorion did the same, though he almost lost his coronet to Zuzen.
They went down the front steps where Itzal was waiting at the door to a much more ostentatious carriage than the one they had arrived in. He would be their attendant for the evening, partly for protection and partly to gather information. “Next stop, the viper’s nest,” he said with a cheerful smile.
They settled into the carriage, and a moment later, it lurched into motion. The swaying motion did nothing for Alaia’s stomach. Zorion took her hand, pressing it between both of his. “I won’t say there is no reason to be nervous, but I can promise that I’ll be beside you. Besides, you are so beautiful, everyone will be too busy gawking to evaluate your social graces.”
“I’m not sure I believe that,” Alaia said, carefully leaning her head against his shoulder. “But thank you. I wouldn’t be able to do this without you.”
“To be fair, you wouldn’t have to do any of this, if it wasn’t for me,” he said softly. His tone was light, but his expression was heavy with guilt.
She looked up at him, concerned. “Why do you act as though being with you is something horrible inflicted on me, Zorion? I love you, and this was my choice.”
He smiled. “I have no doubts about your love, Alaia. But I know you aren’t happy here. You’ve lost weight, even since we brought Galena and Maite into the house.”
“Everyone has been distressed lately,” she countered, but then she sighed. There was no use hiding things from him, even if nothing could be done about it. “I miss my home, my garden, and my potter’s wheel. I miss sitting out in the sun with bare feet. I know that is a silly, simple village thing.”
“It isn’t silly,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Look out the window.” She leaned forward and gasped. This was the capital as she’d never seen it before, alive with light and life. They traveled down a wide boulevard lined with trees, paper lanterns painted with images of the sun hanging between them.
Through the trees, she could just see the facades of stately manor houses as they moved past. Merchants and minstrels plied their trades on every corner, and gaily dressed couples were laughing as they wound their way through the joyous chaos. Alaia didn’t know how to feel. On the one hand, it was beautiful, but on the other…
“It makes you angry, doesn’t it?” he said, and she could see the tension in his jaw. “All these people who have so much, while just a few streets away, children starve. When all of this is over, things are going to change.”
She squeezed his hand. He would be a good king, she knew, but she did wonder how much change the nobles would really allow him to make. If he upset them enough, would he too fall to an assassin? She vowed to never let that happen, though she knew there was little she could do to protect him.
He sighed. “But first, we have to befriend these people. I know it will be hard not to look at the nobles and see only their greed. Itzal always used to tell me if I had trouble smiling at them, I should picture them all in their underthings.”
A startled snort of laughter escaped her. “That sounds like just the sort of thing he would say.” The carriage rolled to a stop, and her heart started to race as Itzal opened the door.
“Everything is going to be fine,” Zorion murmured, and he stepped down to the ground, straightening his spine and gracefully extending his hand to help her down. The palace soared above them, spires of yellow-gold stone with lanterns in every window and banners on every peak. They walked arm in arm down the walkway and up the stairs, as if they had all the time in the world.
Zorion was smiling, but he paid no mind to the people on either side of them, some of whom were pointing and whispering behind their hands. Alaia tried her best to follow suit. At the top of the stairs, there was a large antechamber full of people milling around waiting to be announced.
Itzal went up to the seneschal to give their names, leaving them standing in an out of the way corner. This gave her the perfect opportunity to look at some of the other attendees, many of whom were wearing outfits far more fantastical than theirs, though not necessarily more beautiful. Most of their conversations were about the other guests, what someone was wearing, or who was having an affair with whom. It felt like stepping into an alternate reality. Was no one else aware that they were on the brink of war?
She supposed that was the whole point, to keep it secret, but still, it seemed crazy that none of these people were aware of the tension between the King and the Crown Prince, or the suffering going on just outside the walls of the noble quarter.
“Excuse me? Did you say Crown Prince Zorion was here with his wife?” The voice of the seneschal echoed in the suddenly quiet room.
Zorion muttered a curse under his breath, but he stepped forward, taking Alaia by the hand. “Yes, we are here.” The rest of the courtiers pulled away, as if he’d declared he had a contagious disease. It took a moment for her to realize they were just getting out of his way.
“My Prince, I apologize for making you wait,” the seneschal said, bowing nearly to the ground. If we had known you would be attending the Gala, we would have sent someone to meet you. The king sent no word.”
“I’m sure it slipped his mind,” Zorion said with an arch of his eyebrow. “It doesn’t matter. Announce us whenever you can.”
“Of course, Your Grace, right away,” the seneschal replied, immediately guiding them to the curtained archway behind him. He went through first, and a moment later, a booming voice announced their names to the room concealed beyond. The curtain opened. Alaia was nearly blinded by the light glinting from gilt mirrors and crystal chandeliers. Everything was gold, from the drapes on the windows to the veins in the marble floor.
They were standing at the top of a long, curved stairway, and below them were at least a hundred people dressed in glittering attire, all staring upward with expressions ranging from shocked outrage to delight. Zorion led Alaia down the stairs, and she remembered to smile, though she was sure everyone would see how nervous she was, how out of place.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, there was a sense that everyone in the room was holding their breath, and then one of the nobles, one she thought she recognized from the wedding, broke ranks to approach them.
“Prince Zorion, it is good to see you,” he said, bowing slightly, “and your lovely lady wife, as well. I’m glad you could attend the Gala.”
“And you as well, Lord Firenze. Where is your wife?” Zorion replied. Beyond them, most of the staring nobles had gone back to their own business.
“Due to give birth to our firstborn any day. We thought it best she stayed home. I might have stayed as well, but I have other matters to see to in the capital.” His eyes gleamed with hidden emotion, and Alaia realized he must be one of the nobles providing troops to Zorion’s cause.
“I hope it concludes swiftly then,” Zorion said with a smile. They parted ways with the lord and made their way through the room. Most people greeted them cordially, though a few conversations were full of hidden barbs. Itzal eventually appeared at their side with drinks and a plate of hors d’oeuvres.
“This stuff should all be safe. It all probably is, as nothing seems to be set aside from the rest, but I can’t dismiss the thought that Imanol might just poison the entire court to get at you.” Alaia felt a chill go down her spine, and Zorion scowled.
“There’s no need for hyperbole,” Zorion said with a scowl. He probably didn’t want to scare her. “Not even he’s that ruthless. Have you heard anything of interest?”
Itzal shrugged. “Only that the king is nearly ready to make his appearance. I’m not sure if he’s been told about your arrival, but I think we should assume that’s the case.” Zorion nodded. The sound of music drifted faintly through the air, and he smiled, grasping Alaia’s hand.
“Why don’t we go dance before Imanol shows up to ruin the party?” It was a welcome distraction, and she smiled as he led her across the room, the look of determination in his eyes apparently enough to dissuade anyone from approaching them.
When they reached the dance floor, Alaia was briefly intimidated by the other dancers, but Zorion put his hand on her waist, and her hand went up to his shoulder automatically.
“Remember to keep your eyes on me. With all the practicing you’ve been doing, this should be easy.” The first few steps were a struggle, but she looked up at him, his eyes gleaming with love and mischief. He didn’t like court functions any more than she did, but he did enjoy showing off a little.
Her body remembered what to do, and in a moment, they were moving easily together, sweeping across the floor as the music swelled. He twirled her in a dizzying spin and caught her against his chest, and she felt like laughing. The song ended as he dipped her nearly to the ground. Alaia had nearly forgotten where they were until she heard the sound of applause. Zorion pulled her upright as many of the nobles clapped.
A trumpet sound rang through the ballroom, startling everyone into silence. King Imanol stood at the top of the stairs, and he clapped slowly, a cruel smile on his face. “My goodness, how the little swamp flower has blossomed. You must have been practicing day and night.”
Alaia felt her cheeks flush, with anger as much as embarrassment. Zorion’s grip on her hand tightened. “I would prefer it if you did not insult my wife so, Your Highness,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Insult? Oh no, dear cousin, I think she’s quite charming. In fact, I must insist on having a dance with her myself.” Zorion opened his mouth to protest, but she put a restraining hand on his arm.
“Surely, he can’t do anything to me in front of so many people,” she whispered. “We didn’t come here to start a fight.” He searched her face and nodded, releasing her hand and bowing his head.
“As Your Majesty wishes,” he said, backing away stiffly. She felt suddenly very cold and exposed as the musicians started to play again, and the king came down the stairs toward her. He took her hand, and she did her best to hide her revulsion as they moved out onto the dance floor.
He did not hold her particularly close, but it was still closer than she wanted. His breath smelled stale, and his stomach kept threatening to brush against her. Plus, because he was shorter than Zorion, she found she was looking at his face much more directly than she wanted.
“You do dance fairly well for someone of such low beginnings. Whoever would have taught you that?” he asked in a probing tone. Perhaps he was hoping to get her to name Zorion’s allies, but this question would give him no information.
“Itzal,” she said bluntly. “He’s very talented.”
The King sniffed. “My cousin has always given much more freedom to his servants than I would allow. But this… Itzal has always been quite bright. I might have hired him, but he has a surprising amount of loyalty considering his less than savory skill set.”
“Zorion cares for his people and treats them well. It’s not surprising that they remain loyal to him,” she said, fighting to keep her tone remotely civil.
“And what about you, my dear? The prince appears to care for you a great deal. Surely, he showers you with jewels and beautiful things.” The king smiled poisonously. “But no, he wouldn’t, would he? He’s always been frugal, but I would give you everything that you deserve. After all, your children are so young. Who’s to say who the father is?” He leaned into her, a lascivious glint in his eyes.
She pulled away from him in shock and disgust. “I didn’t marry Zorion for… jewels. I married him because I love him.”
The king did not seem offended. He laughed as though she’d just told a hilarious joke. “Well, we’ll just have to see how far that takes you. Have a pleasant evening.” He backed away and disappeared into the crowd, leaving her shaking with rage. Zorion was at her side in a moment.
“Alaia, are you all right?” he said, leading her away from the dancers and into a quiet corner.
“I… the things he said… I just… need a moment.”
He breathed a sharp breath out his nose, clearly fighting to control his anger. “Come on, let’s go out into the garden,” he said, guiding her out a set of double doors and into the cool night air. It was like a balm to her senses; she hadn’t realized how the perfumed air of the ballroom had grated on her until they had escaped it.
They went into a shadowed alcove a little way down the path, and Zorion pulled her close, stroking her hair. “Everything is all right. Did he threaten you?”
“No,” she said, clutching his jacket with the force of her emotions. “I would have expected that. He… he propositioned me!” Zorion put his finger against her lips, though he was scowling. She took a deep breath and began again more quietly. “He actually suggested I could just… pretend the children were his.”
Zorion’s free hand flexed against her back, crumpling her dress in his fist. “I will never let that happen. If he were any other man, I would make him answer for that,” he growled.
“I, especially, would never let that happen, which I think I made clear before we parted ways,” she said, reaching up to touch his cheek. The feeling of his skin under her fingers was just as soothing to her as it was to him. “I just don’t know what he hoped to gain in that conversation.”
“Maybe he truly thought you were the sort of woman who would be attracted to the idea,” he said, his eyes still gleaming with anger. “Probably he only wanted to upset you. Everything he’s done tonight has been calculated to provoke us.” He leaned his head on her shoulder, and she stroked the back of his neck with her fingers. She could feel him shaking with emotion.
“It’s over now. You didn’t let him win,” she murmured, but when he looked up at her, his expression was haunted.
“I did… I did let him win. I was furious, that he dared to touch you, and I was helpless to protect you. He knew. He grinned at me every time you passed.” His fists were clenched, and his breath was loud and harsh in the enclosed space.
“Zorion, you’re allowed to be upset,” she said, kissing his brow. “But nothing happened. He said some awful things, but he didn’t actually hurt me, and even if you were angry, I don’t see how that helps Imanol. It’s not as if you lost your temper and scandalized the whole court.”
He sighed against her neck, but then he looked up with a smile. “This court could use a scandal or two to shake them out of their comfort zone. The last time I was here, Itzal and I pretended to be drunk and staged a brawl with some of the other young nobles. Imanol was furious that I’d ruined his party.”
“Oh gods, you didn’t,” she said, laughing softly.
“I did. I mean, it wasn’t just for fun. While the guards were busy corralling me and my ‘opponents’, guards that we were allied with helped some political prisoners escape the dungeon. Plus, I was banned from social events for a couple of years, which I did not mind in the least.”
“So, what changed?” she asked. He blinked at her, obviously confused. “You didn’t used to care what the nobility thought. Now you’re trying to impress them.”
He huffed out a breath. “I suppose I thought it was time to grow up. The king can’t be getting into fistfights, after all. I thought I should reassure the nobles that I could play their game.”
“Do you really want to, though? I mean, the people love you, and it seems like all of the decent lords in the court are already behind you. Will any amount of fake politeness really sway the others?” It wasn’t as if she intended to change his way of doing things; she had mostly been thinking aloud. But Zorion looked at her like he’d been hit in the head with a brick, and then he laughed.
“I love you,” he said, kissing her hard on the mouth. “Of course, you’re right. Some of them are never going to like us, no matter how nicely we dress.” He grinned at her with mischief in his eyes. “Would you like to help me create a scandal?”
She tilted her head quizzically. “What kind of scandal?” He pulled her deeper into the alcove, where a bench was concealed by a vine-covered arbor.
“There are little hideaways like this all over the garden, for privacy,” he said in a low voice, his fingers brushing over the side of her neck.
“Oh really?” she murmured, not quite believing he was serious.
“Mmhhhmmm,” he hummed against her ear, the warmth of his breath making her shiver. “But I’ve never used one for its intended purpose. Let’s try it out.” She laughed; it was a ridiculous idea. But at the same time, the thought of making love to him right under the noses of the court made her feel hot all over. What better way, she thought, to wash away even the memory of her encounter with Imanol?
“Only because you asked me so nicely,” she purred, and he laughed, low and secretive. His lips brushed the edge of her ear before he pulled back to meet her lips with his own. She slid her hands under his jacket and kissed him fervently, nipping at his lower lip. He moaned softly and pulled her down into his lap, one of his hands sliding up under her voluminous skirts, leaving trails of heat up the outside of her thigh.
His mouth moved down the line of her throat, and she pushed his jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. The need to feel his skin under her fingers had become all-consuming, and her hands glided under the collar of his silk shirt. One of the tiny golden buttons popped off with a snap, disappearing in the darkness.
“Sorry,” she gasped, but his hand was inside her smallclothes now, massaging her rear, and his teeth grazed the side of her neck. She could barely speak.
“I could care less about my clothes,” he said hoarsely, pulling at the string that tied her bodice. He brought his hand up from under her skirt to push her dress over her shoulders, pinning her arms to her sides a bit but freeing her breasts. He kissed each one as he cupped them gently in his hands, then bent lower and traced his tongue slowly around a nipple.
“Zorion,” she said his name breathlessly, arching her back and pressing him into the wall. Her nails skated over his chest and shoulders under his half-open shirt. She was straddling his lap now, her skirts hitched up to her waist, and the sensation of his manhood straining again his breeches through the thin fabric of her underclothes made her ache.
So close but too far. She unlaced his pants like her life depended on it, and pushed them down to his knees. Her smallclothes were flung to the ground, she didn’t know where, but it hardly mattered when she sank down on him, moaning as he filled her completely.
Their movement was like the sea, a rolling ebb and flow, and all sense fled. Her hands were gripping his shoulders, tangling in his hair, and she bit her lip to stifle her moaning. “No,” he whispered. “Let them hear you,” and she briefly thought of all the courtiers in the palace above, hiding their whispers behind their hands, and she wanted to laugh. Again and again they came together, and the pressure was building; her head fell back and his mouth fastened on her neck, sucking at the sensitive skin where it flowed into her shoulder.
Their moans echoed off the stone as all her muscles contracted, and pleasure rushed through her, flooding all her senses. Zorion followed her over the peak, letting out a strangled groan and thrusting wildly as he exploded inside her.
She panted and shuddered against his chest for a long moment, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m feeling much more charitable to the nobility now,” he said.
Alaia chuckled. “Do you really think they heard us? I would have thought someone would have come looking.” Zorion pulled her sleeves to their proper position and laced her bodice with deft fingers.
“Oh no, the proper thing to do in such a situation is pretend you don’t hear anything,” he replied with a playful grin. “But we won’t know until we go inside. Of course, when they see my artfully rumpled attire, there will be no question.”
“You’re incorrigible,” she said, but she kissed him again, and disentangled herself so that she could pick up her underthings while he pulled his pants back on. When they were both mostly decent, she sat back down on the bench, and he wrapped his arms around her again.
“Do we have to go back in? I think I’d rather stay in here with you,” he said, nuzzling her neck.
“I don’t disagree, but then we won’t get to observe the shock and outrage of the court, which I thought was the whole point.”
“It was mostly that I wanted to make love to you and stuff it right in Imanol’s face,” he said sheepishly. “I never realized that I was such a jealous person. I’m sorry.” Alaia had a strange thought regarding dragons and their hoards, but she didn’t have a chance to voice it.
“Zorion, is that you in there?” Itzal called, his shadow falling into the alcove. “What are you doing?”
“Drat,” he muttered, releasing her from his arms. “I’m trysting in the garden with my wife,” he said grumpily, getting to his feet and picking up his jacket from the ground. “As is my prerogative.”
Itzal stepped into the alcove, and, beholding their disarranged clothing, put his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. “That was you? I was coming to find you to tell you how half the court is having the vapors because some couple was having a little too much fun in the garden.” He almost doubled over, wheezing. Alaia walked by him as regally as she could muster, considering.
“So, I take it they enjoyed the show?” Zorion said, shrugging back into his jacket but leaving it unbuttoned.
“Not as much as they’re going to enjoy the sight of your missing buttons and the bite mark on Alaia’s neck,” Itzal said, barely able to rein in his laughter.
Alaia could tell her cheeks had turned bright red, and Zorion winced, touching the spot on her neck. “Sorry about that, love.”
She drew herself up and smiled. “If we’re already giving them a show, I’m not going to pretend I didn’t enjoy it.”