Chapter 14

T here's a knock on the door, and my heart sinks. My nerves are jumping like frogs, and I have to resist the urge to crawl under the blankets and fake my death.

Breathe, Radya .

"You look ravishing," Olly purrs as soon as I open the door. He's wearing a crown for the first time since we met. Without it, I seem to forget that he's royalty. Something about the smug assery turns his blue blood red. But now, with a crown that looks like a smaller version of the one I saw on King Vani, the resemblance to his father is uncanny. Though he does look a little uncomfortable in a jacket that's two sizes too big.

"And you look… like your father dressed you." I almost paid him a compliment but stopped myself short. His head is big enough as it is.

"Ha! You have a keen eye, don't you?" He shifts in his clothing, tugging and adjusting all over to hide his discomfort. "I hate these things, but I have something that helps." Reaching into the waistband of his trousers, he pulls out a silver flask and takes a swig, washing it down with a grimace before tilting the lid to me.

I grab it and sniff the brown liquid, recoiling as the foul odor burns my nose. I definitely should not have sniffed it first. Judging by the putrid smell, I should probably consider passing, but my nerves could desperately use some relief. Before I have the opportunity to regret my decision, I pinch my nose and down the swill. The liquid scorches as it slides down my throat as if it might burn right through me.

"That is foul! What is it?" I manage to say.

"It's a mead that one of my buddies made. Tastes like goblin piss but gets the job done." He takes one more sip before offering his arm. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," I mutter.

The closer we get to the dining room, the more my nerves dance. Olly tries to make conversation, but I may as well be a brick wall. All of my thoughts seem to be imprisoned within my mind, unable to escape.

By the time we're close enough to hear the noise coming from the dining room, Olly stops and looks directly into my eyes, trapping me like a fly in amber. "Hey, it's going to be okay. Most of the people in that room are so self-obsessed that they won't even notice you."

"Sure." I stare mindlessly at the birthmark on my hand and trace the swirling lines with my thumb while doing my best to drown out the inner voice screaming at me to run away.

He delicately hooks a finger under my chin and tilts my face toward his. Then he inches closer, close enough for his breath to warm my skin. "You're perfect, Radya. Did you know that?"

"I…" I can hardly hear myself think over my drumming heart.

"There is no one in this kingdom more beautiful than you," he says in a deep, throaty voice that echoes in my chest and leaves me breathless. "I am lucky just to be in your presence."

The last thing that I want is to feel this – this heart-thrumming, knees weak, head spinning rush – when I walk into the banquet. I need a clear mind to face this. And so, I whisper, "We should go."

He's a flirt, nothing more. If anything, he's probably just trying to calm me down so that I'm not an embarrassment to the royal family. To his family. Little does he know, his words had the opposite effect.

He doesn't let go immediately. Instead, he holds me there, fingers curled softly around my chin, and traps me within the softness of his brown eyes. Then he leans down to whisper into my ear, "Very well, let's go."

He drops his hand and continues toward the banquet hall. And like sand washing away with the tide, I follow his natural current.

The skin below my ear still tingles like a phantom whisper. I am frazzled and undone, and yet he is unaffected. His gait is cool and measured, his scowl growing harder with each step. When we reach the door, I take in one last heap of air and hone a steely expression, a defense.

Breathe.

The banquet hall is bustling with people. It's somehow too large and too small at the same time. The high ceiling is painted a dark midnight blue, and tiny dots of white seem to shine like stars. A small ensemble of musicians plays in the corner, though their sounds swell to occupy every nook and cranny. And stretching across the center, slicing through the crowd, is a dining table dressed with candles and flowering vines.

As soon as the recognition of who I am spreads across the room, heads turn toward me, scrutinizing and unkind, and the chatter fades. Heat rushes to my cheeks as the alarm bells in my mind start to ring, taunting me with reminders of my unworthiness. Olly grabs my hand and pulls me forward to part the sea of onlookers. The silence screams louder than any words ever could. He stops in the center of the room, raises his hand, and shouts, "Welcome!"

His words breathe life into the crowd once again. But even when the merriment resumes, the scrutiny doesn't fade. Only now, it comes in the form of sidelong glances and whispered judgments.

He whispers in my ear, igniting that pit of fire in my belly once more, "Looks like you could use another sip of that foul mead. Which, by the way, I will be sure to tell Landers you hate." I swallow my breath. Despite Olly's faults, I'm grateful to have him by my side to shield me from the wolves. "Speaking of," Olly says as a brawny golden-haired man swaggers over. The two exchange a practiced handshake that sends Landers' wine splashing out of his glass.

Landers carries himself with an air of gentility that makes me question how he and Olly could be close friends. With his perfect posture, nose in the air, and perfectly coiffed shoulder-length curls, I would assume that Landers was the royal, not Olly. He reaches for my hand, pressing a kiss to it. "It's so nice to finally meet your betrothed, my friend. Though her sour expression could use some improvement. It's dampening the mood."

I bristle at his comment but try to force a smile, if only to prove him wrong. "Nice to meet you, too. Olly let me try some of your mead before we came, and I would say that it could use improvement, as well."

"Oh, she bites! How intriguing." His eyes narrow, scanning me from head to toe. "And she calls you Olly. How romantic."

At this, Olly blushes and, to my surprise, remains silent. I've never once seen him appear anything less than excessively confident. The two exchange a look that I can't decipher, and I wonder what the meaning of it is. "Why wouldn't I call you Olly?"

"Never mind him." Olly claps a hand onto Landers' shoulder as if conveying a silent message before turning back to me. "If there's one thing you should know about this guy, it's that he's a prick."

Landers almost spits out his wine with laughter. "He's right, you know. I may be a prick, but at least I'm honest." The two continue to stare at each other for a long moment, and I get the impression that I'm missing something.

"Radya, we need to do our rounds. Landers, try not to choke on your wine." Olly wraps my arm around his and ushers me toward a passing server. He plucks two bubbly flutes off of his tray, handing one to me and immediately taking a sip of the other.

"What was that about?" Was that just one of the many mind games that the twins warned me about? I thought surely that I'd be safe around Olly's best friend, if no one else.

"Nothing. As I said, he's a prick." His eyes dart around the room, refusing to meet mine. Before I have a chance to push the issue further, a couple, who are no taller than five feet flat, stride over to us. Their scowls warn of their unfriendliness before they even speak. It takes every ounce of my willpower to keep from running away.

"Radya, meet Lord Sherrod and Lady Avery," Olly coolly introduces them, and I'm almost certain that his eyes rolled.

Lord Sherrod tilts his head back to an unnatural angle in an attempt to look down his nose at me, even though I tower over him. "Lovely to make your acquaintance, Radya. Now, tell me, how am I to accept you as our future queen? Regardless of the rumors, you were born in our enemy's territory, grew up in a remote village far from the Capital, and have no knowledge of or exposure to ruling a kingdom. Is that a fair assessment?" Lord Sherrod's words drip with condescension, but it is not his tone that stings. It is the confirmation of my very own thoughts that plunges the knife deep into my chest.

"I, uh…" Words, Radya. Use your words. Much to my chagrin, my mind seems to have emptied of all thoughts. Say something, anything…

Lady Avery steps in before I can make an even greater fool of myself. "Dear, give the girl a chance. If Prince Allwyn approves of her, then that should be enough for us. For now ." Her last two words may as well be a threat.

For a moment, I fear that Olly might agree with Lord Sherrod. I hold my breath when he opens his mouth to speak. "She is worthier than I, and I bid you not to condescend to my betrothed again. I don't care who you are. I will not tolerate it."

Lord Sherrod lowers his head in submission, revealing a large bald spot at the crown. "Yes, Your Highness," he says through gritted teeth and then flashes a look of warning before waddling away.

If what the twins said was true, then angering any of these people could have consequences. Do I really want to start by angering them within the first five minutes?

Olly turns to me, catching my eye for the first time since our conversation with Landers. "That is a small man in every sense of the word." And when I don't respond, he adds, "Lord Sherrod is an ass. A very, very rich ass that needs to learn his place."

"Has everyone forgotten that I have yet to agree to this arrangement?" Lord Sherrod's words echoed my own thoughts. How is anyone supposed to blindly accept me, when I cannot accept myself?

"Everyone assumes it's as good as done. Only a coward or a fool would refuse the opportunity to join the royal family." He takes a sip of his bubbly. "No offense."

I wonder which one that makes me?

"Thank you, by the way. For defending me."

"It's nothing. And, in all likelihood, I'll have to do it again. I hope you have thick skin," he winks playfully. He means well, but I am a fish out of water. If I knew why they chose me, or what makes me so special, then maybe I could defend myself. I could tell them exactly what makes me worthy.

But I cannot.

This gift is as much a mystery to me as my worth is to them.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice another couple parting through the crowd. A couple much more familiar.

Every part of my body tenses when we make eye contact.

Lord Myles and Lady Lora.