10. Chapter 10

ten

P rince Castien seemed to take great pleasure in watching the guests’ faces as he called out names, pairing teammates for the games. Most looked happy, some looked surprised, a few actually looked angry.

His face reminded Kallessa of a trickster, those pale gray eyes shaded with dark lashes against the midday sun, his posture held alert, like a predator waiting to pounce. The prince’s voice, clear and precise, cut through the muffled hum of anticipation, each name announced, spreading ripples across the crowd.

“Kallessa Dahoko,” the prince said, his sly gaze falling to her like a hawk spotting a dove in a field.

Kallessa’s heart leapt. This was her chance. She took a deep breath, her split skirts swishing as she approached. “Yes, my lord?”

“Come forward,” he commanded.

The grass crunched beneath her boots. “My lord, I have a great idea I would like to present to you.”

“All great ideas must be held until after the games,” he decreed, each word pronounced like a chisel shaping stone.

Kallessa’s throat tightened. She couldn’t give up that easily. What about Aunt Gevene?

“M-my lord— ”

The prince silenced her with a wave. “I will call for you tomorrow morning. Now please stop talking.”

Kallessa snapped her mouth shut, her cheeks warming. Is this how all royalty spoke? She stared at her shoes in humiliated silence.

“For the remainder of the games, you are paired with Warwick Ratliff.”

Kallessa’s head snapped up. Sure enough, Warwick approached, his steps determined and heavy, like a drumbeat of impending doom, a self-satisfied grin on his face. Today he wore a fuchsia suit that matched his flushed cheeks, his blond hair already falling into his eyes.

Her stomach dropped. No, no, no. He gave her the creeps, and she’d barely escaped him the previous evening. She couldn’t possibly spend the entire two weeks in his company. There was an enormous lake on the estate, according to the map. What if they got too close to it, and he had the sudden urge to drown her? Or worse, marry her?

She searched Prince Castien’s face, but he met her gaze with cool indifference, his expression as neutral as the stone statues that lined the garden paths.

Panic washed through her, a drowning feeling she knew intimately. That feeling she had every time her choices were robbed from her. Like the choice of where she lived, what she could do, see, or go. Drowning in that vast sea, where she had no power over her own life. Where someone else dictated her every waking moment.

But… She wasn’t in Teansong. Her uncle wasn’t here. The tiniest lifeline bubbled up from the deep sea of her soul.

And from somewhere in those depths, she found the will to speak .

“It’s not possible, my lord,” she blurted out.

His eyes narrowed. “And why not?”

She swallowed an enormous lump in her throat. Why not indeed?

Kallessa frantically scanned the courtyard, praying that someone—anyone—would rescue her. Was she really going to have to do this? Warwick’s brows drew together, his mouth opening to speak.

Doom. That’s what would come out of his mouth.

So, in a moment of desperation, her mouth betrayed her, and out came the lie . “I am engaged,” she declared, her voice quivering.

Prince Castien’s eyebrows rose. “Oh indeed, and who is your fiancé?” The question hung in the air, heavy and expectant.

What was she going to say to that? Surely she wouldn’t have shown up without her fiancé. Oh, what a tangled web we weave…

Kallessa’s gaze darted around the courtyard, a roaring sound in her ears. Had everyone fallen silent, or could she just not hear anyone else over the frantic pounding of her heart? This was the most ridiculous lie she’d ever told. And to a prince, of all people! She wasn’t even a good liar. Any moment, she’d be escorted off the premises, cast out for trying to fool the future king of Krithadea.

Suddenly, a vision appeared from under a tree. A tall man with long golden hair and a tawny beard strode toward the courtyard, his powerful legs devouring the ground with his long stride. He looked even more dangerous than the first time she’d seen him at the inn, a scowl etched on his rugged face. His sparring leathers clung to his muscular frame, a stark contrast to the formal attire surrounding them. And oh, did he wear them well. She gulped, her mouth suddenly barren of all moisture .

Then, shocking herself, she extended her trembling hand, pointing her finger toward the vision of masculinity, a man she never thought she would see again.

“Him.”

“He is your fiancé?” Prince Castien asked, his gaze fixed on the approaching man.

Kallessa’s heart pounded in her ears. What had she done? But there was no going back now. She had to own it. “Yes,” she said, hoping her voice sounded more confident than she felt.

The prince slowly nodded, his expression unreadable. “And what is his name?”

Heat bloomed across Kallessa’s cheeks as her mind raced back to that fateful night at the inn—rough hands, startled eyes, and the scent of hay. The only clue to his identity had been a hastily scribbled initial on a slip of paper tucked into the package of ginger. That single letter “N” now taunted her.

This was bad. The golden man, only known as “N” drew closer with each passing heartbeat. She had to act now. If she stood there until he arrived, the shrewd prince would know she’d just boldly lied to his face. And any chance of freedom for herself or Aunt Gevene would be destroyed.

So she did what any self-respecting girl would have done. Faked it. Kallessa squared her shoulders and strode toward the man, praying her legs wouldn’t betray her trembling. She had mere moments before they’d be in earshot of Prince Castien. Mere moments to salvage this disaster of her own making.

Nevander’s body protested every step as he strode onto the grounds. His shoulder ached worse than it had in months, thanks to Declan’s beatings. He’d clearly underestimated how out of practice he was, the ghost of each clashing blow still vibrating through his tired muscles.

Catching Castien’s gaze, he squinted. Against the cacophony of the garden, where the buzz of conversation competed with birdsongs, his friend wore an expression that spelled mischief. Next to him stood… her. The woman from the inn, from behind the curtains. The one who’d been haunting his thoughts. She was pointing at him, eyes wide like a deer caught in a crossbow’s sights.

Nearby stood Warwick Ratliff, eyebrows furrowed, stance rigid as a statue.

After a tense exchange between Castien and Kallessa, she hurried toward Nevander, her skirts swishing with tantalizing determination. The midday sun caught her mahogany curls, setting off strands of fiery red and russet. Those golden eyes fixed on him with an intensity that sent heat coursing through his veins. He was so lost in watching her approach, that he stood there, frozen, until she was right before him.

She reached out, surprisingly strong fingers wrapping around his wrist. The contact jolted through him like lightning.

“You are my fiancé,” she declared, breathless .

Nevander’s mind went blank. “I’m sorry, what?”

He tore his eyes from her and glanced at Castien in the distance, who flashed the most devious grin he’d ever seen before turning away to speak to a guest.

Kallessa’s grasp tightened, her warmth seeping into his skin. “Oh, please, I’m so sorry, it’s just- if you aren’t, then I’m stuck with Elbow Man!”

Nevander’s gaze was drawn back to her, caught in those luminous eyes for a timeless moment.

You are my fiancé. The words echoed in his mind. He’d been no one’s fiancé. Never wanted to be. Duty. Burdens. Tragedy. Each one stacked up against his heart like a wall of granite.

But, for the sake of this woman, and to uncover the truth of what was going on here—which he highly suspected was Castien’s doing—he would play along.

For now.

Kallessa released his wrist and stood back, biting her lip. “I’ve done a terrible thing. I’m so sorry. I’ll go back and tell him I was joking.” Her gaze flicked back down and she swallowed. “I’ll find a way to make it through the week.”

He’d stood silent for too long. Studying her crestfallen expression, a surprising pang of protectiveness surged through him.

Instead, he gently took her hand, wrapping it around his arm. Her fingers were damp and hot. “Elbow man, hm?” he asked, quirking a brow.

“It’s a long story,” she said with a helpless shrug, glancing over at the prince and Warwick.

“Let’s go introduce ourselves, shall we?” He led her across the lush lawn to where Castien sat, bundled up like it was midwinter .

“Ah, the fiancé appears,” Castien remarked, voice carrying on the warm breeze.

“So sorry for my tardiness, my lord,” Nevander replied, his face composed despite the indignant laughter bubbling inside him.

Castien turned his attention to Kallessa, who still gripped his arm. “Introduce us to your fiancé, would you, dear Kallessa?”

Kallessa stood frozen in place, her eyes wide, like a cornered fox. Then it dawned on Nevander. She didn’t know it was him behind the curtains last night. Had it only been the night before? It felt like a lifetime ago.

“Nevander, my lord,” he interjected, voice steady. He felt the grip on his arm loosen slightly before tightening again. Then she blushed the most attractive shade of pink, her mouth forming a perfect “O” as she looked up at him, recognition sparking in her eyes.

Castien turned to Warwick. “I do apologize for the misunderstanding, but you know how these things go. Whatever number our fiancé,” he gestured to Nevander, “had, is now yours.”

Warwick cut them both a glare and stalked off, mumbling under his breath.

“Move along. I have more teams to form.” Castien waved them away, feigning boredom. Nevander bit back a laugh. Had Castien always been this devious? Sure, he remembered the time Castien had orchestrated an elaborate prank on one of his tutors years ago, but this level of meddling took it to another level.

He escorted Kallessa toward the large refreshment tent, the scent of apple cider and cinnamon beckoning him. Apparently, Kallessa would be his companion for the duration. There was no way Warwick wouldn’t spread the story. Probably turn Nevander into the villain.

“It was you. Last night, I mean.” Kallessa’s voice held a sense of wonder.

“Yes. Would you like some apple cider?” He poured himself an enormous cup and gulped it down before refilling his mug. All that running around in the ring had made him thirsty.

“Behind the curtain.” This comment, she whispered, glancing around them.

He handed her a cup of cider and led her away from listening ears. The upper-class court was full of busybodies who loved scandal more than their next breath.

He waited until they were under a large oak, whose branches reached out far enough to block prying eyes. She’d released her grip on him, watching him rather warily for someone who’d just declared herself engaged to him.

He kept his tone neutral, harmless. “Yes, that was me.”

“And, at the inn, that was you as well,” she confirmed, barely audible over a distant laughter and chatter.

Nevander leaned against the oak. “I had intended to apologize to you last night. It was inexcusable what I did. You were only trying to be kind.” Yet, he remembered the feel of her, crushed against him for that one moment, before the horrors of war had burned it away.

“I’m the one who should apologize for stealing your room.” Her eyes danced with uncertainty. Was she remembering that night in the stable, too ?

“Is your companion here also?” He knew she was, but he wanted to keep Kallessa talking, to relax her. And maybe just to hear that soft southern accent a little longer.

The dappled light from the rustling tree played across her face as she glanced around. “Dovina? Yes, I’m not sure where, but she is.”

So that was the blond room thief’s name.

“So we’re engaged, are we?” He said it lightly, teasingly, though the thought sent a nervous ache into his stomach.

Kallessa glanced up through those long, dark lashes. “I am so sorry! The prince has offered me an audience tomorrow morning, and I’ll tell him the truth then.”

“He granted you an audience?” Nevander raised his eyebrows, impressed.

“Yes, you see, I have this idea.” Excitement flashed in her eyes before she dropped them. “It actually seems stupid now.”

Castien was going to have so much fun with this, the bastard. But so could he. If he was posing as a son of a shipbuilder on holiday, who would care what he did? The anonymity was freeing.

Nevander turned to Kallessa, gripping her small hand in his. She looked delicate, but he could feel the strength in her slender fingers. “Don’t tell him.”

Her confused look had him clarifying his meaning.

A playful smile teased his lips. “Don’t tell him you aren’t my fiancé.”