No, she hadn’t realized the queen had placed a bounty on their heads and ordered their deaths so that there would be no competition for the throne.
No, Thad hadn’t killed the royal family. They’d all died in their sleep from some sort of blood disease while Thad and Ari had been several cities to the west of Súndraille’s capital, Kosim Thalas.
Yes, Thad was capable of ruling. He’d been raised to assume the crown, and she’d yet to meet anyone who took the responsibility of his position more seriously than her brother.
Her current partner, Lord Pachis, hailed from the eastern coast of Súndraille and was old enough to be her father. Her cheeks ached from smiling up at him while he lectured her on the rigors of ruling a kingdom where crime was growing and the economy was shaky. When he launched into speculation that Thad might not be up to the task, Ari stopped listening.
Over his shoulder, she caught sight of the beautiful queen of Ravenspire, who was dancing gracefully with her new husband, the king of Eldr, despite the length of her bloodred gown.
Beautiful, graceful, and married to a dragon. Sometimes life was so unfair.
Lord Pachis paused and looked at her expectantly. Ari cursed silently and ordered herself to remember what he’d just said. Asked. Whatever.
She came up blank. She’d been too busy being jealous of Queen Lorelai to pay attention to anything else.
He frowned. “I meant no offense, Your Highness, but it is a pressing question on the minds of many in the noble class.”
“What question?”
His frown deepened. “The issue of parentage and bloodlines. How do you and the king propose to deal with those who say a bastard shouldn’t be given the throne? Especially when the royal family died under mysterious circumstances and the new ruler is of such a tender age—”
Ari barely managed to keep a pleasant expression on her face as she said, “I propose that those who have an issue with the coronation take it up with their representatives from the Assembly. Thad was declared the lawful king because he and I are the only remaining blood relatives of King Waldemar, and Thad is the elder twin. The royal family’s death was determined to be caused by a blood-borne disease. Unless you’re suggesting that the entire body of the Assembly is somehow involved in covering up murder with the intention of putting a seventeen-year-old on the throne, I would like to stop having this discussion.”
He blinked and drew back.
Her stomach dropped, and her cheeks heated. She’d been too blunt. Too outspoken for a princess who’d only been invited to the coronation because Thad had refused to cooperate with what was expected of him unless she was given equal consideration. She’d offended Lord Pachis, and she couldn’t afford to give anyone more reason to distrust Thad and speak ill of him behind his back.
“Forgive me, my lord. I am not myself.” She tried a wide smile, though it felt like her lips were stretched too thin across her teeth. “I’m afraid that after three hours of dancing, I’ve become quite famished and am feeling a bit light-headed.”
He glanced once at the generous curve of her hips and then stepped back and bowed. “I can see that you are not accustomed to going a few hours without food. Allow me to procure some refreshment, Your Highness. Perhaps a bit of fruit and some lemon water.”
Ari caught herself midsnort and tried to swallow the noise. The terrible, half-choked gurgle that caught in the back of her throat sounded for all the world as if she intended to vomit.
Lord Pachis’s eyes widened. “Are you quite well?”
“Thank you for the dance, my lord.” Ari turned on her heel and hurried away before the duke could insult her again or renew his offer. Who danced their feet off for three hours and then pretended to be refreshed by a bit of fruit?
Not this girl. She needed meat and at least three pastries. Lord Pachis could think what he wanted.
Ducking away from the dance floor, she limped to the massive tables set up along the northern wall, grabbed a plate, and filled it. Popping a stuffed date in her mouth, she turned and scanned the ballroom, skimming over the busy dance floor and the clusters of people conversing over full plates of food until she met Cleo’s gaze. Her friend was standing near a clump of ladies in bright, frothy gowns, her face expressionless as she held a tray half full of wineglasses.
Just past Cleo, another middle-aged nobleman caught Ari’s gaze and began moving toward her. Panic tied her stomach in knots at the thought of having to endure one more round of diplomatically answering another set of questions while dancing on the packed ballroom floor. The room was too warm, too close, and the clash of voices and music surrounding her felt like it was closing in.
Ari met Cleo’s eyes once more, glanced around the room, and then jerked her chin toward an open door that led out to the palace gardens. Cleo instantly began weaving her way through the guests as Ari hurried along the edges of the room and out the door.
The moment she was outside, she drew in a shaky breath and willed herself to be calm. Lanterns with tiny bells hanging beneath them swayed from the branches of the trees closest to the ballroom. A path of crushed stone cut through lush flowering bushes, whose waxy blooms filled the night air with a honey-sweet scent. The distant thunder of waves against the palace cliffs and the chirrup of crickets in the trees eased the panic that had driven her from the ballroom.
A breeze drifted through the garden and cooled the heat from her skin. She slipped her shoes off to let her feet sink into the luxurious carpet of grass that edged the bushes. Taking a bite of a crepe stuffed with beef and sweet cheese, she tipped her head back to gaze at the stars that dusted the heavens like silver sugar.
Maybe somewhere in the night sky, her mother was looking down on her. Maybe she already knew the kind of trouble Thad was facing with his subjects. The kind of trouble Ari was having adjusting to being a real princess.
Ari closed her eyes and remembered her mother’s soft voice. Telling Ari not to scrub the floors because she’d chap her hands. Consoling Ari when the king refused to acknowledge her by weaving stories of poverty-stricken princesses who did heroic deeds and saved kingdoms. Urging her to take care of her brother, who lived beneath the weight of his father’s expectations without the benefit of his love.
“I’m trying,” she whispered, hoping her words would somehow find their way to her mother’s ears.
“What are we doing out here?” Cleo asked as she came to stand beside Ari, the tray of wineglasses still in her hands.
“Escaping.” Ari opened her eyes.
“If I escape for too long, Mama will hear of it,” Cleo warned, though she made no move to go back inside.