“Feast days are so much less overwhelming than a Presenting ball,” Cyrene said.
A few hours after her encounter with Ahlvie and Leslin in the library, Cyrene’s hand was wrapped around a goblet full of wine. The black marble ballroom was lit with a thousand candles floating in chandeliers above the room. Affiliates and High Order were dancing to the sounds of the string quartet while Cyrene and Maelia stood apart from the group near the enormous fireplace.
“I danced with no one my entire Presenting ball,” Maelia told her with a bitter laugh.
“You still dance with no one,” Cyrene reminded her.
“You’re not much better. The last three balls, you’ve danced with no one but a few suitors and the King himself. How terrible to be in your position.” Maelia pressed her hand to her forehead as if she were going to faint.
Cyrene wanted to tell her that was only because she had been avoiding Prince Kael at every turn, but she had yet to tell Maelia of the events that had occurred. Cyrene wasn’t sure how much longer she could evade him.
The King was another matter though. He rarely danced more than once or twice with anyone, save his Queen and Consort, of whom he divided his time equally. Maelia seemed to think he always chose Cyrene for the longest dances because he favored her, but she wasn’t sure she believed that. She wasn’t sure she wanted to believe that.
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. I have no suitors, and I have received no extra attention from the King.”
Maelia giggled and then pointed across the dance floor. “As if plucked from the heavens at your request. Who knew you were lucky enough to receive a third dance tonight?”
Cyrene followed Maelia’s gaze to the King striding dutifully in their direction. His figure was draped in the finest black velvet shirt with bridged sleeves. His riding boots covered his snug-fitting black pants up to his knees. A forest-green cloak tumbled off one shoulder and reached nearly to the floor. It was held in place around the neck by a heavy chain of gold square links with the royal seal artfully designed into each piece.
He was handsome, frustrating, desirous, stubborn, and most of all, dangerous. His presence put her on edge. One moment, she would feel an electric pull toward him, completely forgetting his rank, and treat the King just like anyone else. The next, she would realize her mistakes, remember that he was the King, and have to quell her biting tongue. It was a never-ending battle to please.
“Affiliate Cyrene,” King Edric said with a charming smile, “I hope the feast day is to your liking.”
“My King,” she murmured, bobbing a curtsy. “It is most enjoyable as always. You do remember my good friend Affiliate Maelia, yes?”
“Yes, of course,” Edric said, making a poor show of acting like he remembered Maelia.
He had been introduced to her more than a handful of times, and still, he couldn’t seem to place her. Something about her made everyone pass over her, even in plain sight.
To her credit, Maelia dipped a curtsy, honoring the King’s station, as she pretended that she did not care that the King never noticed her. “Your Highness.”
Cyrene prepared herself for the oncoming invitation to dance. She had already danced with the King twice tonight, and she was sure this would draw more notice from Queen Kaliana.
“Would you do me the honor of taking a walk with me?” King Edric asked.
Cyrene’s mouth opened ever so slightly. A walk? That was so much more intimate than a dance as they would be away from the rest of court. She felt the King’s gaze on her as he waited for her response—as if she could reasonably turn him down, as if she would want to.
“I’d be delighted, Your Majesty.”
He extended his arm, and she touched her hand to the inside of his sleeve. Cyrene’s heart fluttered, and she was having difficulty keeping her breathing even. A request to walk and have a private audience with the King—unencumbered by the dance, the music, and other prying eyes and ears—made her giddy. Maybe Maelia was right. Maybe the King did favor Cyrene after all.
The King slowly maneuvered them off the marble floor and out onto the gray-and-black stone balcony overlooking the inner courtyard. Byern climbing vines corkscrewed around the stone columns and up the handrail of the spiral staircase. Rows of fully grown apple trees lined the exterior of the castle. Bushes bursting with roses—white, yellow, orange, red, purple, blue, and even a minty green that nearly blended into the leaves—threaded along the pebbled pathway. In the large circular courtyard, a giant sculptured fountain stood as the centerpiece, its water flowing freely from the mouth of some stunning sea nymph.
“Do you enjoy the view?” King Edric asked.
“The rains have made the gardens bloom, and it warms my heart to see it so.”
“It is good to know that the gardener approves of the work.”
Cyrene laughed lightly. “I have not gardened in a month’s time. I fear I can no longer call myself a gardener.”
She remembered when she had told the King of her interest in gardening at the last feast day almost a week ago. After that dance, Queen Kaliana had added a list of plants to Cyrene’s assignment, forcing her to reread every page she had already dredged through for information. It had wasted two entire days.
“Perhaps I could change that,” he offered.
He directed her down the staircase and into the courtyard lit solely by the setting sun in the distance.
Her stomach churned at the thought of him offering assistance to any of her needs. It was like what she had read in her children’s books of the tales of Leifs and how one request would necessitate a much larger sacrifice. Her biggest sacrifice at the present moment was time. She wanted nothing more than to finish her work on agriculture and prove that she should get moved somewhere that involved traveling and adventure.
“On the contrary, My King, I am fully enthralled in my Affiliate duties, and I believe that gardening would only distract me from my work.”
“You cannot spare one afternoon to spend in my gardens?” His blue-gray eyes searched her face. “If you have half the green thumb you suggested, then it would be delightful to have you on the grounds.”
She swallowed. “I really have much work to accomplish before we go on the procession.”
“I could speak to the Queen and request it to be lessened,” he whispered into the evening air.
It was the first time he had ever admitted to discussing her with the Queen. Hearing him say it aloud made her voice come out strangled. “No!”
Cyrene missed her footing on the pebbled path and stumbled forward a pace. Edric steadied her. He turned his body to face her in the middle of the garden, and her breath caught at the sight of him in the setting sun.
“You do not wish for me to speak with the Queen?”
“I spoke out of turn. Please forgive me.”
“I cannot forgive that which I do not understand. Has the Queen somehow offended you?”
Cyrene shook her head. “I fear that the Queen does not…like me.”
Edric laughed softly, taking one of her hands in his own. “Oh, Cyrene, I believe that the Queen likes no one but herself.”
Cyrene found that she, too, could laugh at his comment.
“Now, tell me what the Queen has done to make you believe that she dislikes you.”
“It’s nothing, My King.” She turned her face away from his. She couldn’t possibly tell him the real reason.
“It’s enough to infuriate you, which is enough for me.”
When she looked back up into his blue-gray eyes, she felt that same magnetic pull between them. Somehow, she had not realized how close they were standing to one another. His hand felt warm against her bare skin. His body was only a few inches away from hers. His breath was hot on her face.
Her heart contracted in her chest, but she forced herself to respond, “She speaks of…of your interference…as if…as if you…”
Time stretched between them, and for a split second, she thought he might move even closer to her. She was rooted in place, captivated by his gaze.
“Yes?”
His other hand drifted to her waist, and she was suddenly on fire.
Their breaths mingled together as she murmured, “As if you favor me.”
“And do you think that?”
“I…”
“Yes?” he asked, stepping closer.
She couldn’t breathe. He was so close. His fingers tugged her body toward him. She felt the hard contours of his chest through her thin dress. His head tilted downward, and she rose up ever so slightly on to the tips of her toes, arching up to him. Her gaze landed on his lips, and she knew any second that something was going to happen that she could never reverse.
“Cyrene,” he whispered, their lips nearly touching, “do you think that I favor you?”
Her eyes fluttered closed, but she couldn’t keep the words from spilling from her lips. “I think you have Your Queen.”
The spell was broken. King Edric took a step back, and Cyrene quickly found the roses incredibly interesting.
She couldn’t believe what had just happened. Had the King been about to…kiss me? Had I been about to let him? It seemed unfathomable.
“I shall refrain from commenting about you to Her Majesty again,” he said coolly. “If you believe that will make your life easier.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said. Her heart was still beating out of her chest. She was sure he could hear it. “I believe it will.”
King Edric let the silence lapse between them as he directed her back along the rose-lined path.
As they ascended the spiral staircase to return to the party, he stopped her. “Affiliate Cyrene.”
She looked up at his beautiful unlined face, strong jawline with a five o’clock shadow, dark hair cut short, and shining blue-gray eyes. This feeling blooming between them was dangerous, but she didn’t know how to stop it.
“Yes, My King?”
“I’d prefer for you to call me Edric.”
Cyrene’s cheeks heated. She couldn’t believe the King wanted her to use his given name.
“Of course…Edric.”
He smiled down at her once more before escorting her into the ballroom.
Cyrene walked to where Maelia still stood beside the fireplace in a haze. Maelia had a million questions about her foray into the courtyard with the King. The court was buzzing with rumors and speculations about what had happened, some as good as idle conversation and others as bad as copulation.
“Copulation?” Cyrene asked, shaking her head. “Honestly.”
“Well, what happened?” Maelia asked.
“We walked around the rose garden and talked about how I enjoy gardening. Positively boring.”
Cyrene knew that she was glowing from the encounter, but she was too happy to care at the moment.
“Right,” Maelia said, unconvinced.
When they reached their rooms in the Vines, Maelia finally stopped badgering Cyrene for answers.
After entering her room and undressing to her shift, Cyrene fell into an easy slumber. She dreamed peacefully of dancing with Edric in an empty ballroom as he told her to use his given name, brandishing it like a caress.