Chapter 9

T he reflection that stares at me isn't one I recognise, but the beautiful, confident woman continues just to look back at me. The curled golden hair, makeup, and dress isn't just what makes my reflection unrecognisable, although that's part of the reason. It's nothing that I can see, at least nothing I can place my finger on, more like it's an aura around me. Instinctively, my right hand moves over to touch the mark on my left arm, tingles rippling from the mark the moment my fingers graze it. A gasp escapes my lips, my body feeling alive with the power of the Goddess. Gripping the edge of the sink, I brace myself against it until the feeling subsides. I shake my head with wry amusement as I raise my arm to examine the mark. Now that I'm alone, I have time to inspect the pink symbol.

At first, I'd thought it was just a symbol in the sacred language, but it's more than that. An intricate, swirling pattern surrounds it, creating the image of a crest. My skin is smooth and undamaged, unlike the flesh around the brands below my Goddess mark, where even after many years the skin is scarred and puckered.

"Clarissa, are you okay in there? Your escort is here." Jayne's voice is muffled through the door, but I can hear the note of concern in her tone. Jerking away from the mirror like it might bite, I close my eyes and take a steadying breath. I've been jumping at every noise that reaches me through the locked door of Grayson's bathroom. I feel safe in here, and I know that a little lock is nothing compared to even the weakest of magicians, but I've never had the ability to lock myself away before and I find it comforting.

"I'm coming," I reply, and I hear her walk away from the door. I wonder about the lack of security around Grayson's rooms. Is he not worried that I'll run away? Until this morning, I was a criminal, and now I have free rein of his rooms. There's nothing stopping me from leaving. Is that what Jayne is worried about? That I will leave?

Making a rude noise, I shake my head. Where would I go? Why would I want to leave when Grayson has offered me everything and a chance at a new life? I was surprised at the lack of guards as we walked back to his rooms, but then again, if the magicians, our protectors, are unable to protect themselves, then we're all in deep trouble.

Stop putting it off.

Opening my eyes, I take a step toward the locked door, reaching out for the handle, but then I realise I'm not wearing the cuffs to cover my slave marks. Shaking my head at my near miss, I turn and grab them, placing the metal bands over my wrists, so only my Goddess mark shows through the gauzy material of my sleeves. With one last look in the mirror, I turn my back and open the bathroom door, following the sound of soft voices into the sitting room.

As I enter, I see Jayne handing a steaming cup of tea to a young-looking magician sitting in one of the chairs. As soon as they see me enter, the magician abruptly stops talking and jumps to his feet, knocking the cup out of Jayne's startled hands.

"Lady Clarissa!" he exclaims, wincing at the sound of the cup smashing on the floor, tea soaking into an intricately woven rug. "Oh crap, I'm so sorry," he blurts, turning to look at the mess he's created, then glancing back at me, his head turning comically between the two. A blush spreads across his cheeks and I decide to take pity on him, a small smile turning up the corner of my lips.

"It's okay." At my simple words he seems to relax, a cheeky smile thrown my way before turning back to the amused maid and the smashed cup. Closing his eyes, he mutters under his breath and the feeling of magic starts to caress my body. His magic feels different than Grayson's, weaker, and it comes in waves rather than the constant force I'm used to from the older magician. Eyes widening in awe, I watch as the fragments of the cup rise from the floor and fuse themselves back together, the stain on the floor disappearing completely. Plucking the now fixed cup from the air, he hands it back to Jayne with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, ma'am, I can be a little clumsy," he admits. The maid takes the cup and places it down on the little side table with a smile and slight shake of her head, muttering something about clumsy magicians before turning to face me.

"Ah, you're ready. You look lovely, dear," she praises, as she walks over to greet me, her hands tugging at the skirts of my dress and smoothing out the fabric. "Mage Wilson is here to escort you to the ball. He will stay with you until High Mage Grayson can join you." Her explanation has me glancing over her shoulder at the magician in question, who's now pretending not to listen as he examines the teapot.

Lowering my voice, I meet Jayne's eyes. "Can I trust him?"

"Grayson trusts him," she declares, as if this is enough of a reassurance for me. Is it enough? Jayne must see my reluctance as she pats my arm in comfort. "I know his mother, she's a good woman. He's young—" There's a crash behind her and she winces at the loss of more porcelain as a shouted apology reaches us. "And clumsy, but trustworthy." She holds my gaze as I watch her shrewdly. I learned pretty quickly how to identify when someone's lying, the tone of their voice changes or their ticks give them away, everyone has them. But looking at Jayne, I'm pretty sure she's telling the truth. Nodding, I drop my eyes and take a step back, waiting for her to introduce us.

"Don't drop your eyes, a lady would never do that." Quickly lifting my eyes to her, I feel my stomach clench in nervous anticipation. "You command the room, eyes up, back straight." Following her instruction, I roll my shoulders back and attempt to straighten my spine. It's difficult. Years of hunching over, scrubbing floors, and bowing have altered how I stand, but tonight I am to pretend I'm a lady. Shaking my head at how my life has changed in such a short space of time, I await her next instruction. "Walk slowly so your steps are even, you don't want to fall in front of everyone. This ball is just as dangerous as the ceremony, words can be just as sharp as swords." Her warning rings in my ears... she's right. I can't afford to fall in front of everyone. "Just act like you own everything and everyone and you'll be fine."

"How much does he know?" I ask with a nod towards Mage Wilson.

"He knows you are new to court and don't know its ways, that you are Goddess blessed and important to Grayson." I shouldn't be so pleased at those words, important to Grayson , but I can't help but preen a little.

You're important to the outcome of the war, not him personally. He's just making sure that you don't mess it up, my snide inner voice chirps, but I push it aside, I need to be confident tonight.

"Okay, I'm ready," I announce, and Jayne steps back with a smile so I can walk towards the magician. "Mage Wilson, was it?" I call out, bringing his attention to me once again.

I take in the man before me and force a smile onto my face. He looks young, but he can't be any younger than twenty-three as there hasn't been a magician chosen at the choosing ceremony in years. His eyes are bright and he has the typical Arhaven tanned skin and light hair, although his eyes are a deeper, darker blue than most. He's tall, and has a slim build, and his smart blue uniform looks stiff and new. It's similar to Grayson's, but this uniform is a basic, solid blue with buttons lining the front of the double-breasted jacket. The high magicians have gold buttons, epaulettes, and a cape with a golden lining.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Clarissa. Please, call me Wilson," he gushes, his smile wide as he hurries forward to meet me. His excitement is infectious, and I find my smile widening as I watch him. When he offers me his arm, I eye it up, waiting for Jayne's nod of encouragement before linking my arm with his.

As he guides me towards the large doors, I feel his flickering magic just before they open wide, seemingly by themselves. Glancing across at my companion, I can see the concentration it's taking for him to use his magic this way as he obviously tries to impress me. For some reason I feel the need to praise him, to give him the response that he's looking for. I don't know why, I've only just met this man and he is using Goddess blessed magic to please a woman, but the smile that appears on his face when he sees me watching makes my heart warm.

"Thank you. I don't see magic used very often," I offer with a smile, as we step through the doors and start walking down the corridor towards the grand hall. It's a fair walk and I follow Jayne's advice, taking each step slowly and carefully.

"Well, I've never met anyone with a Goddess mark before," he responds cheerily, his eyes going to my wrist quickly before flitting back up to my face.

Tilting my head to one side, I consider the mage. I hadn't wanted to spend this walk in conversation, but his words make me curious. Glancing around, I see that we're alone, I wouldn't want anyone else overhearing and working out that I know so little about our culture. "Are they not common then?"

"No, my lady."

Pursing my lips, I consider what he's just told me, questions swirling in my mind. I'm so used to not asking, to keeping my thoughts to myself, but I find it difficult to stop now that I've started. "Are magicians not marked by the Goddess?" After all, magicians are granted magic by the Mother, so surely they would be marked in some way.

"Our mark is our magic," he explains, lifting his hand and demonstrating by making a small ball of light appear in his palm. My eyes widen in surprise. "Our choosing ceremonies are a little less dramatic than yours though," he jokes, and I can't help the small snort that slips from my lips. Delighted, he joins me in laughter, coaxing a giggle from me. It's short, but genuine, and I take a second to bask in this moment before we reach the ballroom where everything will change. The chatter of people reaches us as we continue our stroll, and I clear my throat, wanting to ask another question before it becomes too loud to talk.

"How do you know that you've been chosen to be a magician?"

"Our magic will show itself in some way, that's usually an indication as to what our specialty is. For me, I started hovering above the podium," he says nonchalantly, but my eyes widen and I pull him to a stop and turn to face him.

"You can fly?" My words are breathy and I probably look like a fool, but I can't help it, I have to know what it's like. I've always dreamed of being able to fly, of escaping the world below and going wherever I want with no walls to hold me back.

"No, I can lift myself for a few seconds, but I'm still learning to control my telekinesis." I frown at the unfamiliar word and he quirks a smile as he begins walking again. "I forget you don't know much about us. I can move things with my mind."

Nodding at his explanation, I follow him silently, lost in my thoughts as the noise grows louder and we round a corner to see the elaborate entrance to the grand hall. String instruments play, their beautiful music filling every space in the large room. I pull Wilson to a stop and stare into the hall that's decked out with candles and grand chandeliers, with tables to the side filled with more food than I've ever seen before. In the centre of the hall is a dance floor where many lords and ladies twirl in unison in a swirl of chiffon and lace. My heart thuds painfully inside my chest, anxiety gripping me tightly.

They're going to see through me .

Wilson reaches out and gently pulls me around so I'm facing him, not a smile to be seen for the first time since I met him, his expression sincere. It's something I'm not used to seeing. "I won't let anything happen to you." He speaks slowly, emphasising the words, and I just stare at him in shock.

"Why?" I don't mean to ask the question, but I'm so shocked that this man would put himself on the line to protect me that it comes out before I can stop it.

"Because Grayson says you're important, and because it's the right thing to do."

Because it's the right thing to do. His words ring through my ears and bring a sad smile to my lips. He may be young and naive, but his heart is pure. I can see why the Mother chose him to wield her magic. He would never kill or harm unless it's necessary, and I know he would die to protect me. I don't know how I know this, but something inside guides me and tells me this man is a good person, my mark tingling as if the Mother herself had organised us to meet. Who knows, perhaps she did.

"I think, in another life, it would be easy to love you." I don't know where these words come from, I've never loved anyone, nor do I know what love feels like, but it feels like the right thing to say. I can also see the two of us, aged and holding hands as our children charge around us, a home full of happiness and laughter, but I know that's never going to be a life allowed to me. The Mother has other plans for me.

Wilson's face shutters for a moment before he blinks and smiles widely at me. "Well, how about we settle on friends then?" He says it with such enthusiasm that I laugh, his smile is contagious.

"I'd like that."

"Now that we have that sorted, are you ready for your ball, Lady Clarissa?" The way he says this makes it sound like the ball is in my honour and it makes me smile again as I nod. Nodding in return, he straightens out his uniform and leads me to the entrance. There's a small group of people outside the door, and as we reach them, I see they are waiting to be admitted into the ballroom, each couple being gestured forward before they are formally announced and enter the grand hall.

One of the stewards sees us and suddenly pales, hurrying forward and bowing low. "My apologies, I didn't see you there. Please, come forward," he insists, his nerves obvious from his shaky words. "Excuse me, please move," he orders the waiting lords and ladies as he pushes through them. I give Wilson a confused look, but he just shrugs and leads me forward despite the grumbles and protests of those waiting.

"Mage Wilson, escorting Lady Clarissa of Lake Haven." The booming voice of the steward is almost lost to the music and loud voices, but those near the door hear and I see the whispers start. Before I know it, it feels like the whole hall is watching us as Wilson walks me in.

"Are all your entrances like this?" I whisper to Wilson, seeing his tight smile as he guides me over to one of the food laden tables. He looks just as uncomfortable as I am. I can feel eyes on my back and it's making my scars burn, like they can strip away my clothing and see me for what I am. I don't know how Wilson and Grayson do this. If people whisper everywhere they go, under constant scrutiny… it'd be maddening.

"They're not looking at me," he whispers back, handing me a glass of sparkling liquid from a passing waiter before grabbing his own. It takes me a moment before I understand.

"Why are they looking at me like that?" I hiss, gazing around and seeing that everyone is still watching us.

"Because you're a beautiful woman who received a Goddess mark. They're jealous," he answers with a smile. I know he's right, at least about the mark, but I can tell there's more he's not telling me. That also doesn't explain why the steward looked so scared when he saw us. "They'll get bored soon enough, just ignore them."

Deciding to take his advice I nod and straighten my back, turning to face out into the ballroom, and I can't help but admire the dancers and all their beautiful outfits. The place is glittering with jewels, with some of the ladies wearing so much jewellery that I'm surprised they can stand up straight. Wilson keeps me company, pointing out certain people of importance, telling me their ranks and the rumours surrounding them. For a magician, he knows a lot about the gossip of the aristocrats, then I realise he probably grew up with these people before he was chosen.

Raising the glass to my lips, I sip the sparkling liquid, pulling a face at the tart flavour and slight burn as it travels down my throat. Frowning at the glass, I raise it to my face, eyeing the liquid suspiciously.

"You're acting like you've never had sparkling wine before," Wilson comments with a chuckle, taking a large gulp of his own drink. If Wilson's drinking it, then it must be safe to consume.

"I haven't," I confirm, eyeing the glass again as I sniff the contents. It smells both sharp and sweet at the same time, the whole thing making gentle popping sounds as it fizzes. "What is it? It burns."

"It's alcohol, made from grapes." I give him a look. I've tasted the fruit before when I worked in a lord's grape field, and this tastes nothing like them. They are crisp and sweet, this "wine" is bitter and tart. He laughs at my expression, as if he truly hadn't believed me when I said I'd never had wine. "What kind of place did you come from where they didn't have wine?" he exclaims like this is the most tragic thing he's ever heard of, but I can only give him an awkward shrug, his question hitting a little too close to home. I don't know how to act like a lady, and if I'm not careful, I'm going to expose myself. "Have a few more sips, you'll get used to the taste, it'll help you relax too."

"Is it that obvious how uncomfortable I am?" I question with a bitter laugh before taking another sip of the wine, trying to school my expression as I scan the crowd around us.

"No, I'm just good at reading people," he responds with a shrug, before gesturing towards a group of ladies who are gathered at the other end of the hall, their heads close together as they talk.

A loud trumpet fanfare fills the room as the music suddenly cuts out, the lords and ladies looking around with wide eyes, their whispers the only sound in the sudden quiet. Wilson stiffens next to me, and when I glance over his face is tight, an expression of dislike so unlike the happy magician that I've seen so far that I do a double take. Seeing my shock, he schools his expression into a carefully blank mask. I wonder who he learned that one from...

"I didn't think they would come." Opening my mouth to ask who he's talking about, I'm stopped by the steward as he makes his announcement.

"Presenting, His Royal Highness Michael Arhaven, and His Royal Highness Jacob Arhaven."

As if by some unspoken signal, everyone drops into a low bow, all except for me. My eyes are locked onto the person who is staring straight at me, his eyes boring into mine as if they know all my secrets. That person is Jacob, the youngest prince of Arhaven.

"You have to bow," Wilson hisses beside me. Ripping my eyes from the prince, I realise that no one has risen from their bows or curtsies yet, waiting for some sort of signal. Everyone in the room seems to be waiting with bated breath and a blush rushes to my cheeks as I drop to the floor in my haste to curtsy, my head dipped low. Sound returns to the room again and a pair of legs appear in front of me.

"We need to work on your curtsies." The voice is amused, and as I glance up, I'm relieved that it's Wilson and not someone else, like a crowned prince for example. He offers me his hand, which I accept gratefully, and he helps me up to my feet. Seeing my glass now lying on the floor, the contents leaking across the marble, I let out a sigh. I brush down my skirts to check for stains, but I'm relieved to see that they weren't marked from my little trip to the floor. Wilson, seeing what's happened, flags down one of the servants and passes me another glass with a smile.

Accepting it with a small smile of my own, I place my hand on his arm. "Sorry."

"What for?" His voice sounds genuinely confused, his expression open as if I've surprised him with my apology. Laughing bitterly, I gesture around me, not just at the mess a servant is cleaning up, but my mannerisms and the fact I could have been dragged away for treason for not curtsying to the royals.

"I don't make a very good lady." As soon as I've said the words I regret them, a real lady wouldn't say something like that. I make it sound like I'm a child playing at being a lady rather than Lady Clarissa of Lake Haven. Thankfully, Wilson doesn't seem to look too deeply into my words and takes my hand.

"I think you make the perfect lady." Turning my head to look at him, I can't help but laugh at his smile and roll my eyes. What a sweet talker.

We go back to small talk as we watch the antics of the nobility around us, although I can't help but keep shooting looks over at the thrones at the front of the hall. Two of the five are taken as the two youngest princes watch us mingle, neither of which have left the dais. However, Michael has his fair share of ladies keeping him company, many of whom are practically sitting in his lap, their fake laughter heard from the other side of the hall. I can feel his eyes on me though, but it's not him who's making my skin feel like it's alive.

Jacob, the youngest prince, has been staring at me since he entered the room, as he is now, only looking away for a second when a server brings him a new glass of wine. I've been trying to avoid looking over there, not wanting to meet his gaze, but I use this reprieve to examine him. I wasn't this drawn to him before the ceremony, it's only since my blessing that I can't seem to look away. He's handsome in a geeky kind of way and I can tell from the way he's sitting awkwardly in his chair that he's not comfortable here, unlike his brother who's revelling in the attention. Receiving his glass, he scans the crowd again before his gaze lands on me, his eyes locking onto mine, and try as I might, I can't pull my gaze away.

"Clarissa, come and see this important thing over here," Wilson declares, effectively breaking my stare with the prince as he steps in front of me. Smiling with relief, I take his offered hand as he links his arm with mine.

"Thank you," I whisper, as we weave through the crowd, but I swear I can still feel the prince's eyes on my back. "Where are we going?" I ask, as I realise he's just taking me to the windows on the other side of the hall. There's nothing here. Each large, arched window has a little alcove, a few of which are occupied by couples who wanted to get a little alone time. People watch us as we cross the hall, but no one makes a move to talk to us, and I realise that Grayson picked well when he chose a magician to escort me. The eager looks turn wary when they see the blue uniform.

"You looked like you needed rescuing," he explains with a chuckle, and I realise he's right, he is good at reading people. I expect him to make a comment about the prince and my apparent inability to stop staring at him, but he doesn't say anything. Reaching an alcove, I lean against the stone arch, relieving some of the pressure on my feet. I'm used to being on my feet all day, my soles thick from walking barefoot, but shoes are still new to me and they are rubbing in places I'm not used to. Thanks to my skirts no one can see me take them off. I stand on the cold stone floor with a quiet sigh of relief and from Wilson's smile, I'm sure he's guessed what I'm doing.

Looking at him I give him one of my own smiles, small and fragile, but honest. "You were right. Thank you—"

"Lady Clarissa." A sharp voice cuts through the space between us, the tone instantly putting me on my guard as I turn to look at the person addressing me. It's a group of ladies headed up by a beautiful woman at the front. I don't recognise any of them and she appears a little older than the others, perhaps twenty-five or so. She's wearing a beautiful, flowing green dress the exact same colour as the soldiers' uniforms, and I realise that Wilson pointed her out to me earlier. She's the daughter of the general of our human army.

"So you're the one everyone's been talking about." I've been trying to remember her name, but as she looks me up and down with a sneer, I decide I don't care. A lady steps up to the rude woman and whispers something to her, and I suddenly realise that I recognise her, not by her face, but by her bright fuchsia dress. She had been the lady at the ceremony who warned me away from Aileen and wanted a private ceremony for the higher classes. Whatever she says to the woman who's leading the pack of ladies makes her eyes widen as she roams her gaze over my body. " She received a Goddess mark?" Her eyes jump back up to meet mine and I see her mind calculating and working away before she smiles, thinly disguised venom still present as she takes a step closer to me. "Can I see it?"

Raising my eyebrows at her audacity, I just give her a look that I would give to the slaves that would get bold and try to steal my hard-earned meal. A look that promised violence and would usually be enough to scare them away, but not this woman. "And you are?"

"I'm afraid it's in a place that would be considered rude to reveal in polite company, Lady Theresa," Wilson jumps in, answering my question for me and being far more polite than I would have been. Turning her attention to the magician, her gaze turns predatory, the ladies behind her watching with interest.

"Mage Wilson, what a surprise to see you here. I haven't seen you at one of our balls since our choosing ceremony." Her sickly sweet voice makes me want to roll my eyes. I've seen enough behaviour from the nobility that fills the castles halls to recognise her fake attempt at being friendly. She is only out for her own gain.

Suddenly under the scrutiny of five eager women, he shuffles from foot to foot uncomfortably, but clears his throat and returns her smile. "I'm usually too busy to attend, but High Mage Grayson asked me to escort the beautiful Lady Clarissa here and I was too happy to oblige." A little part of me wants to preen at his words, but the other part of me just wants to get out of this situation as quickly as possible. These words seem to be a trigger for Lady Theresa, and she pulls her attention from Wilson back onto me. Eyeing my outfit up and down once more, she purses her lips, a sly smile pulling up the corner of her mouth.

"Hmm. I don't remember ever seeing you when I visited Grayson in Lake Haven, Lady Clarissa." She says it innocently, but I know what she's implying—that she knows Grayson intimately. I know she's trying to get a rise out of me, that she's jealous of my connection with the high mage, but what she doesn't know is that there is nothing between us. Not that I'm going to let her know that.

"Oh really? Funny, he's never mentioned you before." I have no idea where the words come from, but even Wilson lets out a shocked laugh before covering it with a cough.

I can't believe I just said that. She's going to kill me. Mother above, where's Grayson when I need him? I fight a flinch as her expression drops into one of anger, I can't afford to let her know she scares me. However, just as quickly as it appeared, it leaves and is replaced by a raised eyebrow. Whatever she's going to say will be aimed to hurt, but just at that moment someone clears their throat behind the group of ladies, effectively interrupting her.

"Excuse me, Lady Theresa, I was hoping to speak with Lady Clarissa for a moment?" The words are spoken like a question, but there is enough authority in the voice that choosing not to comply is not an option. Like a bolt of lightning has struck her, Lady Theresa's back straightens as she whips around to face the person who just addressed her.

"Why, Your Highness, what a lovely surprise to see you here tonight." Horror runs through me and I feel like I'm frozen to the spot, and even Wilson seems unable to move beside me. "How is your mother?" Theresa continues, not noticing or caring for my discomfort, her reply simpering and voice soft and gentle, nothing like the sharp words she was slinging at me just moments earlier. I have no idea which prince has decided he needs to talk to me. The excited gaggle of ladies in front of me has formed a barrier between us and I've never been more grateful. Shooting a look across at Wilson, I gesture towards the exit, pleading with my eyes that we make our escape, slip away while the prince is occupied. Although, I can hear from his short, clipped answers that the prince is losing patience.

"I would give almost anything to avoid this, but it's inevitable," Wilson whispers back to me, his face tight and completely unlike the happy magician I'm beginning to know. "He's been staring at you all night, it was only a matter of time." Bitterness seeps into his voice, and I get the impression that he and the prince have a history.

"That's fascinating, Lady Theresa, but I must have some time alone with Lady Clarissa," the prince finally says, cutting off whatever she'd been babbling on about. I don't see Theresa's face, but the expressions on the other ladies' faces tell me enough—she's been blown off, and she's not happy about it.

"Of course, Your Highness," she answers demurely, and takes a step back. The look she gives me as she does is enough to strike fear in any sane person, but I'm not paying attention to her, my focus on the now-visible prince Jacob.

Stepping past the ladies, he moves in closer, stopping just in front of me. If I reached out my fingers would brush against his formal wear. Green, the royal colour, but like the higher magicians' uniform, his double-breasted jacket has golden buttons and is lined with gold. His cape is made from golden thread and, of course, a golden crown sits upon his head.

Wilson nods his head in a semblance of a bow and I quickly sketch out an awkward curtsy. The prince watches me with knowing eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile before he turns his gaze to the magician at my side, his expression morphing into a frown.

"Mage Wilson," the prince acknowledges dryly.

"Your Highness." Wilson sounds like he's being forced at gunpoint to utter the words, his voice tight like just speaking the honorific is painful. Silence stretches and I glance between the two of them awkwardly as they stare at each other. There is definitely some history between them, in fact they look around the same age so they may have grown up together. I'll have to ask Wilson later. Reaching over, I place my hand on the magician's upper arm, snapping him out of his staring match as he turns to look at me, an apologetic smile in place. My attention is brought back to the prince, whose gaze is trained on my hand on Wilson's arm, an emotion I can't identify swirling in his eyes.

"I'll go and get us some food, Lady Clarissa," Wilson tells me with a small smile, but I can tell he doesn't want to leave me alone. Honestly, I don't want him to leave either, but the unrelenting stare from the prince shows he's not going to back down. Wilson looks at the prince again and levels a hard stare at him. "I won't be far away if you need me." The words are aimed at me, but I feel like he's talking to the prince too, a warning hidden within his words.

He takes a step away from me and I watch him leave, my heart aching with the loss of my safety blanket. Safety blanket . Eyes widening, I realise he's one of the only people I've ever felt safe around and that's something I never thought I'd experience, especially not with someone I've literally just met. A cough brings my attention back to the prince who's wearing that half smile again. It's the kind of expression that someone who knows a secret about you would wear. He makes me nervous.

"Lady Clarissa, I wanted to properly introduce myself. I am Prince Jacob Timothy Arhaven." His words are tinged with a hint of pride and I can tell how proud he is of his kingdom. "I thought you looked like you needed rescuing." His words are said with that half smile and are very similar to what Wilson had said to me not that long ago.

"Thank you, Your Highness," I reply quietly, keeping my eyes low as I clasp my hands together in front of me, playing with the metal cuffs that hide my slave marks. He wouldn't be so eager to meet me if he knew who I truly was. The prince remains quiet for a moment and I can feel his eyes exploring my face, waiting for me to… well, I'm not sure what he's waiting for me to do, so I simply wait. I can't afford to make a mistake here, anything I do wrong could end up with a one-way trip to see the executioner.

"What do you think of the city of Arhaven?" he asks suddenly, and I raise my eyes to his mouth, occasionally flicking my gaze up to his eyes, only to drop eye contact after a second. His gaze is so intense I can't hold it for long. My mind plays over his question. Why is he asking what I think of the city?

Of course, he thinks I've just arrived, to learn about the court. I've lived in the castle for many years now, but honestly, I've never seen the city and some parts of the castle I've seen today were new to me. In a way, I have just arrived, it's funny but since the threat of my death has been removed, I'm seeing everything in a whole new light.

"I haven't had the chance to see much of it yet, Your Highness. But what I've seen of it, I like very much," I reply truthfully. Lying to the prince didn't sit right with me, although I don't know why, after all, his father is responsible for enslaving hundreds of children. I shouldn't want to be anywhere near him, but I find I feel the opposite. "I particularly like the Queen's Courtyard, it's very peaceful there."

"Please, call me Jacob. May I call you Clarissa?" I don't know much about court etiquette other than what I've witnessed, but I'm pretty sure this is unusual and I should be flattered. I'm still struggling to remember my full title, so I simply nod. "In that case, Clarissa…" My name sounds like a caress on his lips and something within me heats, and I have to pinch my arm to stay focused on what he's saying. "I would love to escort you to my favourite place in the city, if you would like?"

My eyes meet his, curiosity making me bolder. "Where is that?"

"It's a surprise." A full smile graces his face and for a second I'm blown away. He looks like a completely different person when he smiles like that and I decide that's the person I want to get to know.

"I'd like that," I reply tentatively, a small, fragile smile on my lips, and I'm surprised at how true my statement is. The prince's whole face lights up and it transforms him, making me want to do anything he asks.

Why do I feel safe around these men? I've spent my whole life distrusting people, especially men, and suddenly I'm not only talking to them, but trusting them with my safety.

You're a fool, my inner voice chimes in, and doubt starts to creep into my mind. Can I trust the son of my captor? "I'd have to check with Grayson first though."

"Yes. The high mage." Jacob's face shuts down at the mention of Grayson, and I wonder what the prince's problem with the magicians is. At first, I had thought he just disliked Wilson, but the distaste in his voice as he mentions the high magician is obvious. Those two are the closest thing I have to friends, can I trust a man who doesn't like them? Questions and doubts swirl through my mind and I take a small step backwards to put some space between the prince and I.

I can feel his eyes on me, calculating and boring into my soul. Opening my mouth to excuse myself, he beats me to it, holding his hand out for me to accept.

"Will you dance with me?" My eyes jump up from his hand to his face, holding his intense gaze for a second before I look back down at his hand. Anxiety swirls through me and I feel my fingers start to tremble.

All noble ladies know how to dance. He'll know you're a fraud, my inner voice taunts as I stare at the offered hand.

"Clarissa?" The prince's voice softens, concern lining his words. "You're shaking, have I offended you?" He takes a step closer, stopping when I hold up my hand. I need a moment to compose myself and I can't think when he's close to me.

Breathe, stay calm. Not knowing how to dance is not a crime, just be truthful, I say to myself, using it as a mantra. Taking a deep breath, I clench my hands into fists, stopping the tremble, and meet the prince's gaze.

"I don't know how to dance."

He's silent for a moment, surprise lining his features. Tilting his head to one side, he considers me before nodding, that half smile twitching on his lips. "I'll teach you," he offers, holding his hand out to me once more. "I won't let you fall, I promise."

Hesitating, I go through my options. I could say no, I don't think he would do anything, but he'd be offended and I don't want a pissed off royal on top of my other problems. Also, part of me wants to say yes. The part of me that loves being in this beautiful dress and having men look at me like I'm worthy of something. The little girl inside of me that never gave up on the fantasy of someone rescuing her. Decision made, I nod my head and place my hand in his.

As he leads me out onto the dance floor a hush falls over the crowd, like the whole room is holding its breath. I can feel the gaze of everyone's eyes on my back, but I push it out of my mind and focus on the prince—on Jacob. Extending his arm, he leads me around in a circle before pulling me into his embrace, guiding one of my hands to his shoulder, and the other he clasps in his own hand. Pausing, he waits for the music to swell before leading me into a simple set of steps. Biting my lip, I look down at the floor as I mouth his whispered instructions, wishing I could see my still bare feet. Instead, I just have to trust that he's leading me into the right steps, and in reality, I'm surprised at how simple it is.

"See," he comments, pulling my gaze from the floor. "You're dancing. If you have a proficient dance partner, then you don't need to know the steps."

My footing feels clumsy, but after a while I relax and find I don't need to keep staring down. Raising my head, I see that the prince's intense gaze is locked on me, and after a moment I have to glance away, choosing to stare just over his left shoulder. We spend the next few songs just dancing in silence, the beautiful music and simple, swirling steps lulling me into a sense of comfort in the prince's arms. At this moment, I don't feel like 625, I feel like Lady Clarissa, a young noblewoman who's being treated like a princess. I know it's not real, but for this moment, I'm going to enjoy it.

"You don't talk much," Jacob comments, as we move into the next dance. I've noticed that people around us have been changing partners after each song ends, but Jacob simply keeps dancing with no signs that he'll stop anytime soon.

"I'm sorry, Your High—I mean, Jacob." I stumble over his name and his lips twitch in amusement, letting out a short laugh at my apology.

"Don't apologise for that, it's refreshing." Lifting his arm, he guides me under it, pulling slightly at my waist so I'm spinning under his arm. The move makes my dress spin and glitter under the lighting and a small surprised laugh escapes me before he pulls me back into his arms. "Tell me what you're thinking."

Exhilarated from the spin, my mouth pulls up into a small smile as I watch him watching me. "I'm thinking you're not what I expected."

"No? What were you expecting?" Lips twitching once again, he fights a laugh at my comment, intrigue glimmering in his eyes. I fall silent as I consider his question. I'm obviously not going to tell him my initial impressions, but he has surprised me. He's very guarded, unlike his brother who is lounging on his throne and throwing away smiles and compliments to any pretty woman who comes close. With Jacob, I feel like I have to earn his smiles, and when he does, it ignites something within him. There's something different about him, something I want to explore, but I get the feeling he doesn't let anyone in.

"I'm not sure, I can't get much of a read on you," I muse out loud. He pauses at my comment, his eyes shuttering. Frowning, I open my mouth to say something when a look of determination enters his eyes and he pulls me closer, staring down at me as the other dancers move around us.

He lowers his head, and whispers in my ear, "Well, we will have to rectify that, won't we?"

"Good evening, Your Highness." Grayson's deep voice comes from behind me, startling me so much I jump back from the prince guiltily. I glance between the two of them. Thankfully, Jacob doesn't seem to mind as he squares off with the high magician. The dancers around us stop and back away, retreating to the alcoves and, as I glance around, I can see everyone is huddled into little groups, watching us and whispering to each other. Wilson suddenly appears at my side, startling me as he puts a gentle hand on my arm and leads me away a few steps. The atmosphere between the two men is tense as they stare at each other, and I'm suddenly really aware of how powerful both of these men are. Grayson has his magic, but Jacob has something about him that screams dangerous .

"Grayson, I'm surprised to see you here, shouldn't you be on the front lines, protecting us as is your Goddess given duty?" Jacob challenges, his voice low and threatening. Grayson merely smiles at him, but it's not a nice smile, it's the kind that promises violence.

"The Mother has given me the role of guarding and assisting Lady Clarissa. I wasn't sure why, but since she received the mark at the blessing, I see the reasoning now." I stiffen as he mentions me, but he doesn't turn from his staring match.

"Yes, she is special, isn't she?" Jacob counters, his face twisting into a smile of his own before he turns to face me. "Lady Clarissa, it was a pleasure being your first dance partner." His eyes flicker to Grayson, and I know this was said as a jab at him. Stepping towards me, Jacob takes my hand and kisses the back of it, his eyes locked on mine. "I look forward to spending more time getting to know you." Without another word or look at Grayson, Jacob spins and strides away to the dais where his brother is sitting.

"What were you talking about?" Grayson's demand has me frowning, and I turn to face him with a raised eyebrow.

"Hello, Grayson, nice to see you too." I'm still not sure where this attitude has come from, but he just nods, rubbing his face with his hands as if he can scrub away the stress that is lining his face.

"Sorry, he just—You need to be careful around the royals." I don't bother to say anything to this, merely nodding in agreement. He's right, the royals are dangerous. If they ever found out who I really am, they wouldn't be so eager to get to know me, the king particularly. Our king is not a kind one, I've witnessed that firsthand.

"Now that that's over, Clarissa, will you honour me with a dance?" Wilson cuts through the awkward tension between Grayson and me, dramatically bowing and offering his hand up to me. I can't stop the smile at seeing him act this way as I place my hand in his.

"How could I say no?" I say lightly with a small grin, as he leads me farther onto the dance floor, a stunned Grayson watching us with an emotion I can't name. But, as I glance back at him, I can't help feeling that he's disappointed. Pushing those thoughts to the back of my mind, I turn my attention to Wilson. "Although I'll warn you, I'm still new at this whole dancing thing."

The rest of the evening passes in a blur. It feels like I'm in a dream and that I'll wake up and find none of it is real, so I make the most of it. Wilson really is a terrible dancer and was nearly escorted from the hall when he fell onto Prince Michael's lap after a particularly vigorous reel. Grayson joined me for one dance, but he was quiet and lost in thought.

We leave around eleven, but the party's still going strong, more wine and liquor being poured as people start to pair off and disappear into dark corners. Wilson walks back with us, only leaving once we arrive at Grayson's rooms. With a quick goodbye, he winks once at me before he disappears around the corner.

Holding open the door, Grayson gestures for me to head inside, which I do, only to find the room empty. I'd expected to see Jayne waiting for us, but realise belatedly that she's probably sleeping. Magic rolls over my skin and as I turn, I see Grayson waving his hand over the door before looking at me. His eyes are dark and I can't read his expression, but he starts walking without saying anything, simply gesturing for me to follow him. Biting my bottom lip, I trail after him, wondering what caused his bad mood as I play with the cuffs at my wrists, nerves running through me. Taking a different door than the one we used before, he leads me down a corridor that has several doorways.

"That's the bathroom, down there at the end is my room, in case you need me," he explains, pointing first to a door on our right, then gesturing to a door set into the end of the corridor. Taking a few more steps, he reaches a door on the left, opening it with a twist of the handle. He doesn't step inside, simply opens the door and nods his head towards the room.

"This is your room, you will be safe in there. I've spelled it so no one can enter unless you give them permission." His voice is curt, his face lined with fatigue, but I'm too distracted to question why. Eyes wide, I take a few small steps into the room, almost afraid he's joking.

"You did that for m-me?" My voice breaks. I've never had my own room, and not just that, but the fact no one can enter, not even Grayson... I don't think he realises quite how much this gift means to me, to someone who sleeps with one eye open and hasn't felt truly safe for most of her life.

His eyes snap up to meet mine, and whatever he sees there makes his harsh expression soften. "It's nothing, a simple spell." He tries to wave it off, but I won't let him, not something like this. Reaching out, I grab his arm before he can turn away from me, no doubt leaving to head to his own room.

"Thank you, Grayson," I whisper.

Dipping his head in acknowledgement, his lips tug up into a small smile. "You're welcome, Clarissa. Sleep well."

And with that, he turns and walks down the corridor, opening and entering his room without turning back. The sound of his door closing and a lock sliding into place makes me wince. It's as if he couldn't get away from me fast enough. I'd dwell on that later, but for now, I have a bedroom to explore. Stepping inside, I look around with wide eyes, a small smile appearing on my face as it clicks shut behind me.

I'm safe.