“The Ander’s right,” Trystan reluctantly agreed. “You’ll do fine.” His gaze also roamed over the guards they passed, though not a single one of them returned his look.
They came to the end of the hall, where a set of double doors stood before them. They were wide enough that the three of them could fit through shoulder to shoulder with ease; however, protocol stated that she and the Zane needed to enter alone. It made a statement to the higher-ups on the other side.
Ruckus hesitated, holding out a hand so that the two sentries at either door paused, already in the process of reaching for the handles.
“I’m going to be right behind you,” he promised her, running a finger down her forearm. It was clear he wanted to do more, touch her more, but he couldn’t risk it.
“She’ll be fine,” Trystan bit out, this time glaring Ruckus’s way. He motioned to the guards. “Let’s go already.” He looped her arm through his and waited for his order to be followed.
Delaney took a deep breath and held it as the doors slowly slid open before her. Within, the ballroom was packed with people dressed in bold greens and golds. There were a few Kint blues, but she didn’t focus on anybody. She was too busy concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other.
She’d dressed in a skintight gown that trailed some three feet behind her on the ground. Fortunately, putting it on hadn’t been complicated, and she’d managed to do it on her own. It was a weave of both Vakar colors, shots of deep green and flashy gold sparkling on her body. It tied around the neck and left little to the imagination as far as her chest size was concerned, and while the back was superlong, the front stopped above her thighs. She really wanted to know what was up with the Vakar and their issues with covering their knees.
The heels she’d been given were a high four inches, and she’d wobbled when she’d first put them on. She’d never had a problem walking in stilettos before, so luckily it’d only taken her a couple of paces before she’d gotten the hang of them. Still, she was a bit concerned about tripping in front of the thousand or so aliens all staring at her.
From the door a gold carpet stretched forward twenty or so feet before veering off to a sharp right. The crowd stayed on either side of it, and once they’d turned, she saw it led to a dais where both the Basileus and Basilissa were currently sitting.
They were in chairs—thrones, really—a little ways back from another set, which took up the center. A man stood next to one of the empty seats, holding a metallic device she didn’t recognize. He was older, with gray hairs mixed in with his chestnut-brown ones, and wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.
“Breathe, Lissa,” Trystan whispered down at her as he began leading them toward the dais.
“Distract me,” she pleaded before she could think better of it. She’d done a few pageants as a kid, thanks to her mom’s insistence, but there had never been this many people watching her before in her life.
The corner of his mouth turned up, but he didn’t laugh. “You look very lovely.”
No, Olena looked very lovely. She was sure if he could see her, red hair and all, he’d say she looked like a Christmas tree threw up on her. But she took it anyway.
“Thank you.”
He waited a moment and then, “This is the part where you return the compliment.”
She snorted under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear but no one else. “I’ve been under the impression since we met that you know exactly how attractive you are. My telling you won’t do anything but boost your already massive ego.”
This time he grinned. “You think I’m attractive, huh?” Canting his head, he pretended to think. “What was that old nickname you used to have for me? Tryst, was it?”
Her eyes widened a fraction before she could get her reaction under control. Poor Olena. He’d known about her crush, and he still treated her like this? For what seemed like the millionth time since her arrival to Xenith, Delaney felt a pang of sympathy for the alien princess.
“Remind me, what does tryst mean on Earth, again?” he teased, tugging her a little closer to him by the arm she still had linked through his.
She gritted her teeth. “Pretty sure you know.”
“I’d never contemplated having one with you before,” he continued. “A tryst, that is. But now … I’m considering it.”
“Seeing as how we’re already betrothed,” she stated sarcastically, “I’m honored.”
The dais was fast approaching now, despite the fact that he’d been leisurely leading her. Her heart pounded away in her chest, and she actually found that this time her arm was the one clenching tighter around his.
“I’m thinking of having your head of guard replaced,” he said then, successfully dashing away some of her trepidation about the ceremony.
“What?” She whipped her head toward him, almost stopping in the process. If not for the fact that he had a hold on her, she probably would have. “Why?”
“He’s become a bit too close to you.” He shrugged, not bothering to spare her a glance.
“Why do you care?” He couldn’t be serious, could he? She’d assume her spending so much time with Ruckus would be a good thing in his mind. It meant less time the two of them had to be together, keeping up appearances—aka trading insults.
Part of her was momentarily worried that he was serious, before she recalled he thought she was someone else. Ruckus knew the truth, though, and there was no way he’d allow Trystan to separate them. Hell, she didn’t think the Basileus would, either, knowing that she was walking a thin line as it was, pretending to be his daughter. He wouldn’t want to risk her slipping up and blowing Olena’s cover.
“I’m not sure,” Trystan surprised her by admitting. “That’s why I said I’m only thinking about it. You’ll know when I decide.”
“You’ll tell me?”
“No.” He looked at her intensely. “Because you’ll never see him again.”
She inhaled sharply at the truth in his eyes. He was serious. Could he actually do that? Did he have enough power here to convince the Basileus to take the risk anyway and fire Ruckus?
A new kind of panic settled in her bones, and she felt sweat trail down her back. Ruckus was the only thing keeping her together on Xenith, the only person she could be herself with. If he got taken away …
They came to a stop at the foot of the two steps that led up the dais, cutting off any response she could have given—not that she had one. The older man stepped toward them, holding out his hands to quiet the surrounding onlookers before motioning for her to move closer.
Trystan helped steady her as she moved up a single step, still one below the man leading the ceremony. Then he let her go and she felt him move a few feet away from her, but she didn’t turn to see exactly how far.