32. Dagmara

Before Dagmara knew it, the night of the engagement ball arrived. Supposedly, there would be nobles attending from all over the kingdom. Dagmara didn’t know if they were there to judge her, or merely show their support to the king. Regardless, it was nerve-wracking. She tried to remain calm. Tonight, she had to play off that she and the Mad King were engaged—in front of the entire kingdom.

Madame Annette had given her clear instructions about the ball. The newly engaged couple would open with a dance, and then there would be a processional line as everyone paid their respects. Afterward, they would serve desserts and drinks while performers would take the floor. People wouldn’t leave until it was well into the evening.

Dagmara wasn’t a dancer herself. She knew the Azuremi Waltz which was performed often at weddings and King Bogdan’s holiday balls. It was a romantic dance, one Dagmara had learned when she was a small child because she admired it so much.

Now, in Ilusauri, she was supposed to perform the Ilusaurian Lullaby and only had a few days to learn it. She and Urszula practiced for hours. Endlessly. Especially since Dagmara had to take plenty of breaks to account for her compromised stamina.

Urszula helped her prepare for the ball. She added fabric to one of Magda’s dresses, creating a gorgeous ice-blue gown with a translucent cape that rolled off her shoulders and clasped around her neck. Her hair, dyed silver once more, was pulled half back and braided into a silver tiara. Long, crystal earrings dangled to her shoulders.

Finally, the hour of the engagement ball arrived. Martine and Dagmara walked side by side, past the whirling maze of mirrors. As they walked, Dagmara remained silent, her mind preoccupied.

“He’s waiting at the second floor entrance,” Martine said. “All the guests should already be in the ballroom. You two will make your entrance together and descend the stairs into the center of the dance floor.”

Perfect. Starting the night like a show.

“Thank you,” Dagmara replied. She had more to thank Martine for, ever since she had saved her life during the hound attack in Nouchenne. The monster didn’t stir in Dagmara’s presence, even though it only awoke when it detected magic, and Martine hadn’t made a comment yet.

“I’ll be here all night if you need anything,” Martine added.

“Did learning the truth about Nouchenne change your opinion of the king?” Dagmara blurted out.

Martine inclined her head. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I forced you to come, and nearly killed you. But at least you found out why your family was cleared, right?”

“You didn’t force me to come,” Martine replied, “you’re right, I did want to learn why His Majesty was clearing towns. If anything, it made me trust His Majesty more. I thought he was clearing them maliciously, but he was protecting civilians from the hounds.”

“I suppose,” Dagmara muttered. “Can I tell you a secret, Martine?”

Martine nodded, her eyes widening slightly.

Dagmara hoped Martine was trustworthy. Martine had already kept it a secret that the mystical hounds didn’t awake in Dagmara’s presence. Now, Dagmara wanted to trust her.

“My father and brother were killed by men wearing masks with the symbol of the First Prince. In the cave…someone wrote ‘the First Prince will rise.’ There has to be a connection between all of this.”

“Maybe it wasn’t written by someone, but something.”

“What do you mean?”

“His Majesty has been clearing villages since his father died. These rifts must have something to do with the famine and decay spreading through Ilusauri.”

They rounded the corner and arrived at their destination. Claude was waiting for her, flanked by his two guards, Pierre and the massive man Dagmara didn’t know.

Dagmara stopped dead in her tracks. She hadn’t seen the king since Nouchenne when he had been coated in blood. Now, he wore a regal, silver doublet with a cape down his right arm. His dark skin was gorgeous in the light, and his eyes radiant like a guardian’s.

“You look…” Claude’s voice trailed off. His eyes wandered at every portion of her body until he abruptly cleared his throat and fixed his gaze on her face. “You look presentable.”

Her brow furrowed. “I would hope so.”

“A moment alone,” Claude demanded, and at once the guards left his side. They strode a few paces away, followed by Martine, until they were out of earshot but remained in sight.

Dagmara didn’t know why she felt her stomach erupt in butterflies. The last time they were together, he slaughtered hounds to save her. Was there something about him rushing to her rescue that made her feel this way?

“Madame Annette is currently in discussion with your lead advisor, negotiating an equivalent trade for food and medicine until the routes are officially opened again. We will both have to sign off on the agreement when they write up the contract,” Claude explained. “However, I sent a small shipment of medicine to your mother in the meantime.”

“Oh,” Dagmara brushed her hair behind her shoulder. “Thank you.”

“We can discuss territory and political implications later,” Claude stated.

Dagmara only nodded. She never thought it would get so far as to discuss politics. That was something Magda excelled at, not Dagmara. How was she supposed to make decisions for the entire kingdom of Azurem? Was she even allowed to?

Noting her silence, Claude continued, “To be honest, I don’t like this anymore than you do. I don’t like the stunt you pulled going to Nouchenne, and I don’t trust you,” he said, catching her off guard.

Dagmara shrugged. “You haven’t given me much reason to trust you.”

Claude scoffed. “Well then I hope you are a good actress. The nobles and leaders have to think we’re united. And they will object to two guardians marrying. It hasn’t happened in centuries. So we must convince them we love one another.”

“Convince them we’re in love?” Dagmara let out, followed by a short laugh. “You could have given me some warning, Your Majesty.”

He strode toward her, clearing the distance with three steps. His cologne wafted toward her, consuming her in its elegance. “Are you having second thoughts?” he asked.

“Not at all. I’m just not certain you can convince these people you’re in love with anyone, let alone me.”

“I appreciate your concern, but you don’t have to worry about me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “We will see about that. Is there anything I should know before meeting your people?”

“Nothing specific,” he said. “We’re supposed to perform a dance that is customary to Ilusaurian traditions, but don’t worry about that.”

“I learned the dance.”

He blinked, his jaw slackening as he searched for words.

“You do know the dance, right?” Dagmara asked. “Don’t tell me I learned it for nothing.”

He cleared his throat. “Yes, I know it.”

“Good.”

He nodded toward the guards, and they approached, preparing to open the doors. One of them gave a special knock, notifying the guards on the other side that they were ready to make their appearance. A symphony of horns majestically rang in the ballroom, their sound only muted by the door. An announcement would shortly follow.

Claude extended his arm to her. “Shall we pretend we’re in love for one evening? Then we can return to disliking one another.”

“I said I didn’t trust you, not that I dislike you.”

“I knew from the moment you laid eyes on me that you loathe me. It’s mutual if that makes you feel better.”

Dagmara didn’t want to argue. She couldn’t without revealing that she blamed him for the death of Aleksy and Bogdan and was here to find that proof. Instead she stepped closer, wrapping her arm around his. “I can pretend to like you for one evening, Your Majesty.”

“Claude,” he said, his lips close to her ear. “Call me Claude.”

Then he turned to the double doors. They stood there in silence, waiting for them to open and reveal the ballroom beyond.

He let out a sigh beside her, before whispering under his breath, “This is for the betterment of our kingdoms.”

He was referring to the food supply Azurem would be providing, no doubt. He didn’t want to marry her. All this was so he could feed his people. It made her question everything she knew about the Mad King.

Yet she was no different. She never intended on marriage. This was a quest to avenge Bogdan and Aleksy—but also for medicine. This was for her brother.

Her voice was a whisper as she added to his statement, “and the safety of our people.”

His head whipped to her, meeting her gaze with ferocity. His eyes twinkled with an intensity she couldn’t discern. She wished she could understand what was behind the wall of the Mad King. She wished she knew the truth behind all the rumors.

He watched her with as much intrigue, as if her words struck a different chord inside him. There was no doubt he was trying to interpret her intentions as much as she was. She didn’t blame him. She was an imposter.

Neither of them realized that the doors had opened, and guests were watching them enraptured by one another.

The music to the Ilusaurian lullaby began, and both were startled back into reality. He led her out onto the balcony, pausing at the top of the staircase.

Dagmara froze, getting a glimpse of the ballroom. It was a lavish space, with mirrored panels covering the walls, ending in a glass window at the far end of the room. On the ceiling, hung at least a dozen chandeliers, their glittering lights reflecting on all sides and making the heavenly space seem more expansive than it was in reality. Instead of the gold paneling used in Azurem, the torches and decal were overlaid with metallic silver. Everything was pristinely polished, as if the platinum room was a purposeful distraction to the brittle fields outside.

There were nearly a hundred guests, and all eyes were upon Dagmara. They started down the staircase, and Dagmara prayed she wouldn’t trip on her dress. She tried to keep a pleasant face, but struggled to remain amicable when she heard whispers ripple throughout the room. Were they judging her this early on? She hadn’t even spoken yet.

At least she was going down the stairs. If these people had to watch her walk up them, they would know she wasn’t a guardian.

Then she found Sabien in the crowd. He was taking in every ounce of her body with his roaming eyes, a smirk on his face. She tried to ignore him, but her stomach curled with nerves.

When Dagmara and Claude reached the floor, the crowd parted like a ripple in a pond, creating space in the center. Claude shifted his grip, releasing her arm and taking her by the hand as he led her to the dance floor. With a tug at her fingertips, he pulled her close, her chest against his. She placed her free hand on his shoulder. Her wound had healed, but she hoped Claude didn’t catch sight of the small scar in the center of her palm.

“Eyes on me,” he said, his breath against her face. He wrapped his other arm around her, caressing her hip in the process. The sensation of his hand on her lower back sent a chill up her spine.

When the downbeat of the next stanza began, he started the dance.

It was nothing like practicing with Urszula. The king knew what he was doing, and he wasn’t afraid to lead. With his hand on Dagmara’s lower back, he nearly lifted her into the first movement. Her feet immediately remembered the choreography and matched his strides, afraid to step on him and embarrass herself in the process. She knew a turn was coming up, and she had fumbled through it every time, hoping the length of her dress would cover her footwork.

The music swelled, and she held her breath, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room judging her. When the moment came, Claude nudged her hip, sending her into the full turn. Her fingertips gently spun through his other hand, far above her head. At the end of the turn, he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her tight against his body once more.

He gave her a subtle smile, as though he were impressed. Meanwhile, she was breathless, feeling every inch of his body against hers.

She didn’t know a dance could be so sensual. She certainly didn’t know she could feel this level of attraction to someone she had despised for the past decade. Losing herself in the rest of the dance, she no longer had to remember the steps. Each time he guided her into the next section, her muscle memory snapped into place. All she had to do was keep her eyes on him, just as he had told her. She never noticed the small flakes of silver in the iris’s of his otherwise chocolate eyes.

As the dance came to a close, the music ceased, leaving the entire ballroom in silence. Claude and Dagmara remained focused on one another a moment longer.

Then he cleared his throat, breaking the intimacy. He kept her one hand in his as he addressed the crowd.

“Thank you all for joining us this evening to celebrate the start of our union. I am pleased to introduce Princess Magdalena Krol. She is a Guardian of Life, and we plan to work together for the betterment of both our kingdoms. May you enjoy the festivities!”

The music began again as the ballroom erupted in applause. Claude pulled Dagmara toward him, shifting his hand behind her back as led her to the front of the room.

“I must say, I’m impressed,” he said, his voice low so only she could hear.

“Honestly, so am I,” she replied. “I thought you would have two left feet.”

A soft laugh escaped his lips. “I’ve been dancing my whole life. You clearly underestimated me.”

“I can’t judge your dancing until you’ve performed the Azuremi Waltz. It’s a tradition at balls and weddings.”

“Hmm,” he mused. “I’m sure it’s easy.”

She saw Martine, Pierre, and Claude’s large guard standing a few feet away. Nearby, she also caught Sabien’s eyes again. He was clapping his hands together, so slow that there was no sound. She forced herself to ignore him as she and Claude came to a stop at the front of the room.

There was already a line to greet the new couple like Annette had warned. Martine handed Dagmara her silk gloves that Urszula had prepared. She knew Claude was curious, but she wasn’t going to tell him her reasoning. She knew she was capable of poisoning someone through touch, and she wouldn’t risk one of the Ilusaurian nobles taking her hand and ending her life.

The first few guests said hello politely, introducing themselves and going on their way. She heard many questions and many condolences to her family.

One woman approached, giving a glamorous introduction, and saying she was from some village in the south, before asking Dagmara, “So how do you benefit Ilusauri other than birthing the next heir?”

Dagmara’s face turned pale. She hardly knew how to answer that question, let alone her mind immediately shifted to her conceiving kids with Claude.

“Princess Magdalena brings her entire kingdom,” Claude responded for her, his tone calm. “We are currently discussing all the benefits to this alliance, and there is no shortage from Azurem.”

“Hmm,” the woman replied, displeased.

Claude’s voice dropped. “You will not speak negatively about Princess Magdalena in my presence again.” His eyes glimmered silver in the light.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the woman said, and then disappeared.

Dagmara nearly gasped. Had Claude compelled her?

The next duo that stepped forward glanced at Claude with sheer horror before bowing at Dagmara and scampering off.

Forced to remain silent, Dagmara couldn’t help but glance Claude’s way each time a couple approached, but she didn’t see the silver in his chocolate eyes again. She must have imagined it.

The line felt never-ending, and Dagmara started to lose energy. It was like her life had been sucked out of her, and she knew she had only been standing for ten minutes. Her heart pounded against her chest, threatening to do more damage. She needed to sit, but she couldn’t make a scene.

Don’t ask for a chair. Her thoughts were at war with herself. She couldn’t seem weak.

Claude put his hand out, stopping the next visitors before he turned to Dagmara. His voice was barely audible. “You haven’t spoken to the last three groups. Don’t let their comments get to you. This is all for show, remember?”

The comments irked her, but that wasn’t the problem. It would only get worse from here.

“May I sit?” she blurted out. “My shoes are killing me.”

Claude’s face twisted. “Yes…” he said. Then he snapped at his large guard behind him. Within moments, a velvet chair had arrived and was placed directly behind her.

She gratefully took a seat, immediately feeling the pressure release from her entire body. Her nausea began to subside, and before long, her heart would return to normal.

Then she felt a finger underneath her chin. Claude tilted her head so that she looked up at him, his fingertips gently caressing her neck.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied. She didn’t know if he was touching her this way for show or not.

Then he stood beside her, placing one hand behind his back and the other on the back of the chair. It looked like they were settling in for a painting.

A few more people introduced themselves, until one struck Dagmara by surprise.

She saw him approach, and there was no doubt he was Celesta. Unless he was an Ilusaurian citizen now…but his attire wasn’t similar to those around him. Tassels laid against his chest, and his shoulder pads tilted into spikes. The red color of his clothing was too vibrant for the dyes on this side of the continent.

Ilusauri invaded Celestaire. What was a representative from Celestaire doing here?

The approaching man stepped before them, bowing. His jet black hair was slicked back into a thick bun, shiny underneath the light from the chandeliers. As he straightened, he revealed a young face, but it was worn from experience. He had to be a decade older than Claude.

Then he spoke, a smile on his face as he addressed the king and princess, and Dagmara realized in horror that she didn’t know a single word of Celesta. Well, nothing more than hello, goodbye, and thank you.

But Magda was fluent.

Dagmara was supposed to be fluent.

She stared blankly at him, both surprised he was there and struck with fear that her secret would be exposed. Then Claude glanced in her direction, confused why she wasn’t returning the greeting. “Princess?” he inquired under his breath.

There was no doubt suspicion lined his voice. This could be the moment he saw right through her.