Chapter 55
I don't recognize myself.
Hair in waves over one shoulder, eyes smoked with charcoal, lips stained red. The green dress compliments my hair and eyes, its bodice draping over one shoulder, skirt falling like ribbon to my ankles. My shoes peek out from under the hem, silver like my earrings, adding additional height to my frame.
"Perfection," Beau says, smiling behind me.
Sassia holds a silver chain around my waist. "What do you think?"
It's Beau's dress, the silver belt custom to match her metal rope.
I shake my head. "I think it's fine without it."
The maidservant makes a face in agreement, having come a long way from the time she first escorted me to my room. "I think so too." She speaks a half step above a whisper now.
I turn to Beau, taking in her normal garb as she swings her legs where they're draped over the side of the chair. Although she doesn't appear to be missing out, I'm disappointed. It'd be nice to have someone to talk to, to ease my nerves some, but illegitimate children are not permitted to attend royal dinners.
Sitting up, she braces her chin on her hand on the arm of the chair, smiling at my insolence. "Remember what I told you. It is not your job to make anyone comfortable. "
Easier said than done. While the kitchen and waitstaff have grown accustomed to me, the parishioners have not. They don't shy away from me, but there are also no polite smiles or courtesies. To the courtiers, I'm nothing more than a mouse in the halls.
It's why this dinner is a farce. It's supposed to be a celebration of my return, of Acker's quest to save me from the Alaha and Wren's hands, but there's not a person besides Acker, Beau, and Hallis who's acknowledged my existence in this godsforsaken palace.
Every now and then a soldier will help me during morning training, offering corrections when needed, or the even-more-rare compliment. But their interactions are kept to a bare minimum under the watch of the veranda, especially since the king has come to observe. His eyes feel like the heat of a thousand suns on our backs.
There's a knock at the door, and the maidservant opens it, announcing Hallis's presence. I tell her to let him in.
Dressed in the blackest finery, he looks dashing when he enters, hair slicked into place, black lapels of his suit accentuating his fit figure underneath. I sense more than see Beau's intake of breath, and I'm pretty sure he grins in response.
"Stand and let me see," he says, motioning for me to rise with the box in his hand.
Standing, I tug on the material of my skirt so it falls without creasing. I know it's Hallis, but the scan of his eyes over me makes me self-conscious, and my blush gives me away.
Hallis is a gentleman and doesn't poke fun. "You look beautiful, Jovie."
"Thanks," I say, looking at myself in the full-length mirror of the vanity once more. It feels like a lifetime since I envied the women at the Market. Now, here I am, dressed in their finery, my heart tender around the edges.
"Acker was called into council with his father, so he sent me to deliver this." He opens the box and holds up a string of silver and pearls. "May I?"
I hold my hair aside so he can drape the jewelry around my neck, inspecting the necklace against my skin.
"Cadence's threaded pearls," Beau says, standing to look over my shoulder. The awe in her voice catches me by surprise.
"Who's Cadence?" I ask.
"Acker's mother," Hallis answers.
I run my fingers over the pearls, heart squeezing in my chest. It somehow gives me the boost of morale I need to walk into a room full of unwelcome stares and judgment.
Hallis offers his elbow, and I slide my hand into the crook of his arm. "Ready?" he asks.
I take a deep breath. "As I'll ever be."
Beau smiles. "You're yellow," she says, running a hand over my exposed shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Try to enjoy yourself." Then her gaze slides to Hallis. "And you too, looking as gray as ever."
Hallis actually smiles at her. "Good night, Beau."
We watch her back as she retreats down the hall, disappearing around the corner. "Does she know?" I ask him.
"Know what?" he says, sparing me a glance as we turn in the opposite direction.
"That you're in love with her."
He doesn't miss a step or so much as blink at my bold statement. "Beau thinks everyone is in love with her, so probably."
We walk in easy silence, passing a couple of maidservants who dip their heads in respectful nods, gestures we return in kind. We run into Henry on his way to the kitchen, dressed in his finest apron, and he stops us to rave about how handsome we look. He's excited for me to taste his balsam-glazed sprouts.
Bidding him farewell, we stop in one of the chambers that branch off from the dining hall. Hallis gives me a readying look. I nod but stop short at the sound of footsteps coming up behind us.
Turning, we see Acker emerge from the shadows, legs eating the distance between us in quick strides. Dressed in a green a few shades darker than my own, he takes in my dress, my face, the silver string of pearls at my collarbone.
"Jovie." His hand snakes around my waist, pulling me to him for a kiss. "You are…" He shakes his head, eyes fluttering over my features, my neck. "Indescribable."
"What are you doing here?" Hallis says, unthreading his arm from my hand. "Your father said—"
Acker cuts him off. "I know what he said." He dips his head to the pulse of my neck, inhaling before placing a kiss to the tender spot. "And I've decided I don't care," he says, eyes clear when he looks at me. "Shall we?"
He presents his arm, and a huge part of me relaxes in his presence, smiling as I settle my hand in the crease of his elbow.
"Acker," Hallis says in warning .
Acker snaps, head whipping to his friend. "I said, I don't care ."
Hallis is as shocked as I am. Maybe even more so, eyes wide as he looks at his closest friend.
Clenching his teeth, Acker releases a breath through his nose. "Jovie is my match, and nothing is going to stand in the way of that," he says, straightening the cuffs of his finery. "Not you. Not some bullshit alliance. And not my father."
Sensing he's on the losing end, Hallis releases a breath, eyes turning toward the entrance to the dining hall. "I'll go first. At least I'll get a good view of the show." He dips his head in farewell, eyes lingering on Acker before sliding to me. "Princess," he says, then walks around the bend in the hall.
"I'm getting the sense your father isn't willing to break the alliance with Strou."
Acker places his spare hand over the one I have tucked in his arm. "Once we walk in there, he won't have a choice."
With me on his arm, he means.
In my heels, I'm closer to his height, creating a false sense of equality. "A more honorable woman would attempt to change your mind," I say, meeting his gaze.
His grin is nothing less than lascivious. "Honor is for the pious," he says, leaning in to kiss me.
It's all heat and promise, and I'm sad when it's so short-lived. Some of the stain of my lips transfers to his mouth, so I reach to wipe it with the pad of my thumb, but he pulls away.
"Leave it." With a dangerous look in his eyes, he ushers me to the end of the hall. "Walk to the dais. I'll be right behind you. "
"You're not going to lead me," I say, stopping in my tracks.
"I'll be right behind you," he assures me, hand on the small of my back. "You'll feel me the entire time."
I don't like it, but he places a soft kiss on my lips, as if there's not enough time or space for him to ever resist placing his mouth on mine. I'm going to have to trust him.
I turn and face the draped opening to the hall lit beyond the veil…and step through. Any hope I had of going unnoticed is quickly dashed by the heads swiveling in my direction. Acker keeps his promise, fingertips pressed against the dip of my spine as we walk down the center aisle of tables, our steps echoing off the golden ceiling. Even the heads of the helmeted soldiers lining the room turn and watch.
I maintain my sight on the dais, on the king as he laughs with a nobleman before he takes notice of the dimming noise of the party. His eyes lock on mine as he turns, then his son's, face reddening in anger at the sight of his offspring's insubordination.
Slowing at the foot of the platform, I dip my head in servitude, bowing as much as I can in my skirt and heels. "Your highness," I greet him.
Acker doesn't do anything of the sort. Stepping before me, he looks his father in the eye, an unspoken challenge as he offers me a guiding hand up the stairs. Acker leads me around the table facing the congregation. We pass the filled chairs where a man and woman with blonde hair and light eyes sit. Acker pulls out the nearest seat, and I sit with as much grace as I can muster.
Then, in his most daring move yet, Acker places his hands on the bare skin of my shoulders, leaning down to kiss my cheek in front of the entire assembly. I'm impressed by my ability to keep my blush at bay.
Acker takes the goblet on the table and lifts it to the congregation. "To the lost princess of Maile," he announces. "And to her safe return."
Murmurs of stunned reverence travel across the room as the people lift their drinks in respect of their prince. Acker drinks from his cup, eyes sharp as he takes in his acolytes, daring someone to appear less than pleased. His gaze is heavy, assessing, dangerous.
I was wrong to be scared of Acker when he sat on the throne upon our arrival, when I'm on his side of the equation. I look up at him and lift my goblet. In adoration and appreciation, I speak the words without fanfare. They're nothing more than an observation.
"All hail the prince of Kenta."
A louder, more pronounced round of agreement rings out. All hail the prince of Kenta! The prince who killed on the battlefield for his people, who risked life and limb to bring hope back to his land by returning a symbol of peace from its past.
All hail the prince of Kenta!
I look at the king, red-faced and indignant, and a smirk tugs at the corner of my lips. It seems the people have spoken.
The riotous cheers fizzle as a woman steps through the veiled opening, drawing the attention of the room. Irina steps forward, blonde hair piled high on her head, red dress dripping from her shoulders. Strou's color, I realize, matching the garments her parents wear, seated to my right.
She begins her waltz down the center of the room, heels clacking against the marble floor, neck empty of jewels. Her beauty is almost ethereal, and although I'm the one sitting to Acker's right, I can't help but feel inadequate to be his match. Her assured steps falter as she gets closer to the stage, eyes quickly surveying the lack of remaining seats, her fuming parents…
Me in her seat.
Acker drapes a wrist over the back of my chair and winks at me, completely unfazed by the silent humiliation of the girl lost at the foot of dais. He finishes his wine and slams the goblet down on the table.
"Where's the food?" he says, looking around in question. "I thought we were here to eat, so let's eat."
A maidservant appears with a decanter to refill his cup, then another enters as the dining hall is flooded with servants delivering dish upon dish of food to the tables, ours filling up fast.
Bracing his elbow against the table, he sips from his refilled goblet. "I ran into Henry in the hall," he says, leaping into conversation.
I pretend to pay close attention to Acker's tale, smiling at the identical interaction Hallis and I had with the cook, but I am aware of when Irina takes the hint and ambles off, heels clicking in her hasty retreat.
Not long after, her parents abandon their spots as well.
Henry wasn't wrong. His sprouts are incredible.