A squeeze of her hand pulled her attention to the side, to Cassius’s too handsome face. He smiled at her, the widest one yet, and she found herself smiling back. Something trembled inside her, like the plucked string of an instrument, and it seemed to grow, thrumming through her bloodstream until her whole body buzzed with an unfamiliar sensation.
It had been a long time since Aurora had truly felt like a princess. She made few public appearances, another attempt to hold her secret as long as possible. Occasionally, she would join her mother on carriage rides through the city, but she only ever waved through the windows. She was better off without the attention. She enjoyed her time alone, reading or riding her horse, Honey, or studying. She did not want to wear fancy dresses or attend parties or experience the frivolity of court life.
At least, that was what she always told herself. Now she felt as if she had stepped into the pages of one of her books or strode out of the shadows of her own life for the first time.
The applause died down, and Cassius led her to the center of the room for their first dance. He pulled her close, his long, muscled arms wrapping her up like a butterfly in a cocoon. He smelled of leather and salt and something distinctly male. She fought the urge to lay her head upon his chest as the music began and they started to move.
She had expected to spend the whole night on edge, protecting her secret and her mother’s plan to keep the throne in the Pavan family while also guaranteeing a ruler who could protect the kingdom. But between one twirl and the next, all those worries fled and thoughts of Cassius, of their potential future together filled the gaps.
*
Aurora’s flushed skin was beginning to show through the powder in places—the hollow of her throat, the crest of her cheek, the curve of her lip. Cassius fought the urge to finish the job, to rub it all away so he could see her truly. “You’re different than I expected,” he murmured when the dance brought their bodies close.
Something had changed in the way she looked at him, softened, as if her initial distrust had all but melted away. A part of him wanted to shake her, to tell her she was being a fool for trusting anyone, let alone a man like him. But a greater part of him craved that look, yearned for her eyes on him the way a flower strained for the sun. But if he were a flower, he would no doubt be poison. He drew her closer anyway. Cassius felt the irrational urge to mark her, claim her as his; and if the only way to do that was to let some of his poison rub off on her, then so be it.
“Different in a good way?” Confusion and hope and worry warred on her face. For a girl that had tried before to be ice-cold, she was a riot of barely checked emotions now.
He let the hand on the middle of her back stray to her side, dragging his fingers along the stays of her corset again. “Very good.”
“You are not what I assumed either.” She offered him that sweet smile.
If she knew what that smile did to him, she would be less generous with it.
Emotion was not something with which he had much experience. His parents’ marriage was one of strategy, and that same attitude extended to their parenting. As a boy, he had not known that bloodthirsty competition between siblings was not the way of every family. But he knew now; he felt the yoke of his father’s control constantly tightening around his neck, and it was only recently that he had cared enough to fight it. Or perhaps, he had stopped caring altogether. Consequences meant little to him now.
So he did not react when he noticed his father glaring, eyes flicking down to the hand Cassius still rubbed scandalously along Aurora’s side. He’d come here at his father’s bidding, but the king would not be pulling Cassius’s strings for much longer. He tucked the princess closer, until he could feel the hot puffs of her breath in the hollow of his throat. He slid his hand dangerously low on her back. This was one thing his father would not control. Aurora was his way out, his fresh start. And once they were married, the king would realize that his control over Cassius had died when they left Locke.
The first song ended, and the floor grew crowded with more couples. He led the princess over to where both their families gathered on a dais. Queen Aphra sat upon an elaborate throne made from the same sandstone as the palace, and it glittered gold in the light. A smaller version that was likely Aurora’s remained empty, and several ornate chairs had been added to the dais for his family.
Despite the smaller chair, his father sat as if this room and the people in it were his to command. His mother surveyed the room with a scrunched nose as if already planning how she would change the palace around her. He led Aurora to her vacant throne. Before she could take her seat, he pulled her to a stop and lifted her hand to his mouth, giving the back a slow, grazing kiss. He watched the delicate column of her throat move as she swallowed. When she lowered herself into the chair, he took up sentry position beside her.
After a moment, their parents returned to their previous conversation, and he heard his father questioning Queen Aphra about Pavan’s holdings. They discussed the various crops that grew in the fields surrounding the city, the river that provided water from the north, as well as borders and resources and interaction with several of the nearest Stormling strongholds.
Cassius had spent his life hemmed in by sea and jungle. Few braved the perils of any of the unclaimed wildlands territory; far fewer braved the wilds that led to Locke. Conquest was nearly unheard of in the modern era of Caelira. The challenges of protecting the land were too consuming to dream of conquering more. But even so, Locke’s lethal location provided a great deal of protection and privacy, and most important, it allowed them to control the flow of information in and out of the city. The power of the Locke family was renowned across the continent because they made it so. Pavan was the centermost city of the continent, and thus had potential allies (and threats) on all sides. It would be … an adjustment.
The king’s corresponding stories about Locke were exaggerated and embellished as always. Cassius tuned out as Queen Aphra inquired after his uncle, who was protecting Locke in their absence. He didn’t care to listen to fabricated stories about a brotherly relationship that was just as poisonous as the one he had with his own brother. Bending close to Aurora’s ear, Cassius murmured, “Take everything the king says with a grain of salt.” He touched the pointed tip of the skyfire crystal that perched upon her shoulder. It was sharper than he had expected. “We’re all putting on shows today.”
“And you?” she asked. “Should I disbelieve everything you say as well?”
He didn’t back off; instead he traced the crystal down to the curve of her shoulder. As he considered how to answer, he dragged his fingers toward the nape of her neck. Her head dipped forward slightly, and he curved his palm over the back of her neck. “When you’re raised to be king, you’re taught to choose your words carefully, to utilize them with as much precision as a sword in a fight. But I—”