Chapter 17

I 've just settled myself at the table when a loud trumpet fanfare starts, and everyone in attendance pushes to their feet in unison. Following their lead, I stand, glancing at Grayson for a hint of what's happening when the royal family enters the hall. Prince Rhydian is walking alongside his father, the queen and the other two princes following behind. Seemingly as one, the room bows and I hurry into a curtsy, holding it until I hear the scrapes of chairs. Peeking up, I see the royals taking their seats at the table at the head of the room.

The rest of the hall has been set up with long tables along each wall, forming a square of free space in the centre of the room. Grayson and I are sitting at the table to the left of the royals, closest to the royal table. He informed me beforehand that there's a table plan and everyone is sitting by hierarchy, so as a high mage, Grayson is only just below the royals. Sitting with us are several of the king's advisors and other nobles, and I notice that Wilson has been placed further down the table. I wanted to ask why he's so much further down, but a slight shake of Grayson's head has me pausing, stilling my tongue.

The king remains standing as the rest of the royals take their seats, his gaze scanning the people gathered before him. He looks cruel. He once could have been handsome, but years of scowling have lined his face, his golden hair more white now than blond. But it's his eyes that make me nervous, a cruelty shines through that makes me want to avoid him at all costs. Eyes like that promise violence and remind me of the advisor I met in the library with Jacob.

"People of Arhaven, you are here to celebrate the return of my son, my heir, Prince Rhydian. He has been working with the soldiers on the front lines, fighting for our freedom against the elves." The king pauses, allowing the room to fill with hissing as the lords protest and bang their fists against the table when our enemy is mentioned. "So eat, drink, and be merry."

I flinch as loud cheers fill the room, tankards and glasses being banged on the table. A hand slips into mine—Grayson. Keeping my attention on the king, I absently squeeze Grayson's hand, silently thanking him. The simple act helps ground me, reminds me that although I'm surrounded by people who would kill me in a moment if they knew who I was, I have a friend here. I am not alone.

Clearing his throat, the king waits for everyone to quiet down again, his face falling into a scowl. "In other business, we have some guests." Sounding less than enthusiastic, the king waves his hand and the large wooden doors are hauled open again. Although I don't know much about etiquette and how these things are run, I'm sure that introducing guests this way, as an afterthought, is an insult, and seeing the frown Grayson is throwing at the king, I think I'm right.

Murmurs fill the hall as the seated lords and ladies whisper, watching as the new arrivals file into the centre of the room. There's a lot of them, I lose count after fifteen of them stride in. Mostly men, but even the females are large in stature, their hair dark like mine with feathers threaded through their braids. The men range from having long braided hair to none at all. Tattoos cover their skin, and they wear clothes fashioned from animal pelts. The male leading the group is wearing a headdress complete with a set of deer antlers. They fascinate me and I can't seem to drag my eyes away. One of the males in the middle of the group scans our table, his eyes appraising me for a second before moving to the others around me then flicking back and locking onto me. My breath catches at his intense gaze, his eyes narrowing before he looks away. Taking a deep breath, I lean back in my chair once his attention is no longer on me, the feeling of light-headedness making me dizzy.

What in the underworld was that? I can feel Grayson's eyes switching between me and the mountain man. Glancing over at the royal table to gauge their reactions to the newcomers, I see frowns of concern, even a flash of hatred in Rhydian's eyes. When I reach Jacob, I flush when I realise he's watching me. I'm starting to feel hot under all these gazes, so used to blending in that having this much attention, especially male attention, is making me uncomfortable.

Or is it? Don't lie, you enjoy having the mage and the prince watching you, my inner voice chimes in, and I have to admit it's right. There is something exciting about having them stare at me this way, looking out for me, but I'm sure that's all it is. Nothing would ever be able to come from a relationship with either, they simply want to protect me, possibly even be my friend, which is enough for me.

"A diplomatic party from the mountain tribes. They will be staying with us for a few weeks," the king continues once everyone has hushed, less than enthusiastic as he dismisses them with a flick of his hand, gesturing towards the row of free seats on the table opposite mine. The leader of the group scowls, confirming my suspicions that the king is not following diplomatic protocol with the visitors. Holding his position, the leader of the mountain folk glares at the king for a second with such hatred and disdain, that the atmosphere in the room suddenly changes. The guards subtly reach for their weapons, tension filling the hall as they wait for the order to attack, but thankfully it never comes.

Spinning on his heel, the leader of the mountain tribe strides towards the table, taking the seat at the top, the rest of his kinsmen following suit. The man who caught my attention is sitting second from the top, his eyes scanning the space again as if he's looking for someone, stopping as they land on me. He freezes, his body seeming to grow as he stares at me, his already impressive physique becoming more . I want to look away, his gaze too intense, but I can't. A sense of familiarity hits me so strongly that it's like a physical blow to the gut.

"Everything okay?" Grayson whispers, lowering his mouth to my ear. He's so close that his breath brushes against my skin, making me shiver at the sudden intimacy of the action. The man opposite scowls, his hand holding his knife in a white-knuckle grip. Around us, servers are bringing in large platters of food, the general noise rising as conversations start up.

"Who are they?" I nod towards the newcomers, and Grayson follows my gaze then leans back in his chair, taking a sip from his goblet. Following his lead, I reach for mine, bringing it to my lips and pulling a face as the bitter taste of wine coats my tongue. Quickly putting the goblet down, I push it away, feeling Grayson's amusement as he watches me.

"They're from the mountain tribes," he begins, before taking another sip of his wine. "They live in separate tribes all across the mountains, but they have representatives from each tribe, and an elected leader who helps unite them." I guess that explains the different clothing, tattoos, and hair styles.

"Why are they here? They look…angry."

"They always look that way. They're a serious lot. Life is hard for them in the mountains, and we haven't had the best relationship with them over the years. This is a big step and a show of peace having them come here," Grayson admits.

Looking around the room, I see many people are watching the tribesmen with suspicion, and Prince Rhydian is practically glaring at them. To their credit, the mountain people mostly ignore everyone else, talking boisterously amongst themselves as they tuck into the food served in large plates on the tables.

Placing some fish and potatoes onto my dish, I flash Grayson a grateful smile as I start to pick at my food. My appetite is increasing, but I still have to be careful. As I slowly eat, I tune out the sound of Grayson as he makes polite conversation with the men next to us, my attention on the mountain people and the man whose gaze never leaves me for long.

After the meal we retire to our rooms, Grayson leading me away, and I can feel eyes on me as we leave. Not only of the mountain man, whose name I still don't know, but I can also feel Jacob's heavy gaze, which didn't leave me throughout the meal. I was relieved when Grayson suggested we leave.

I spend the rest of the afternoon with Jayne, chuckling at the stories she tells me of the servants' antics when the nobles aren't looking as she helps me dress for the ball. The gown she helps me into is stunning, a tight bodice with light, flowing organza sleeves which gather together in a thick cuff at my wrists. The skirt is multi-layered, the bottom tier hitting the floor with the top layers falling from my waist and gathering up behind me, making my hips look wider, giving me the womanly shape I'm lacking. The most beautiful thing about it is the colour. Still blue, but the deepest blue of the night sky, and scattered on the dress are tiny sequins that are unnoticeable until I move, the light catching on them and looking like glittering stars. My hair is styled up into a bun with some blonde curls framing my face. Settled on top is a diadem with a single, deep blue gem resting on my forehead.

"I can't wear this." Reaching up, I place my hand on the diadem to take it off, but Jayne slaps my hand away.

"Yes you can. Master Grayson picked it himself."

I try not to preen at the idea that Grayson selected this for me. I don't know why it makes me feel warm that he personally chose my clothes, that he imagined me in them. My cheeks grow hot and I know Jayne notices as she smiles smugly, playing with some stray strands of my hair.

"It looks like a crown, won't the royals be upset with that?" From what I know of them, they are cruel and fast to punish for any misdemeanours. The last thing I want to do is draw even more attention to myself. There is already enough whispering and attention on me without needing a glittering dress and crown to stir things up.

"They would expect you to dress up for a ball like this, anything less and they would take it as an offence against the prince. They'll assume you don't think he's worth dressing up for."

Rolling my eyes, I stare at myself in the mirror as I ponder Jayne's words. Either way, there will be a lot of attention and gazes on me. At least I'll have Grayson there to fend off anyone who tries to talk to me.

As if on cue, there's a knock on the door. Jayne goes to open it and I turn from the mirror, smiling as I wait for the high mage to enter the room. For the first time I feel good. I know I look nice and I want to see his reaction when he sees me. I try not to delve too deeply into why I'm so eager for him to see me in this dress.

The door swings open and Wilson strides into the room with his usual gusto, and I have to work really hard not to show my disappointment when Grayson doesn't follow him through.

"Mother above, Clarissa," he whispers as he reaches my side, circling me with wide eyes. He's uncharacteristically quiet, and it makes me nervous. Shuffling from foot to foot, I glance over my shoulder where I see he's still walking around me, a gobsmacked look on his face.

"Do I look okay?" I hate how vain I sound, but I trust Wilson's opinion and I don't know how to interpret his silence. He finally comes back around to face me, his eyes wide with wonder and a strange feeling falls over me. It's the same tingling feeling from the choosing ceremony, and my eyes lock onto the young magician as his magic flares for a second. It's over before I know it, and confusion settles over me, but before I can say anything, Wilson takes my hand.

"You look like a queen." Kneeling before me, he presses his forehead against my hand and stills, as if waiting for me to say something. Panicking, I raise my eyes and look at Jayne beseechingly, but she just shrugs, looking as confused as I feel.

"Um, Wilson. What's going on?"

My voice seems to shake him out of his stupor as he stands back up, his eyes boring into mine, and I can see the moment his eyes clear. I've seen Grayson do this a couple of times, and it's always when he receives a vision, so I'm assuming that's what's happening now. With a wide grin and slightly awe-filled expression, he takes hold of my other hand and takes a step back, admiring me.

"Sorry, the Mother sent me a vision," he says, confirming my suspicions before pulling me into a hug. With an "oomph," I'm roughly pulled into his embrace which I return with a chuckle, but after a second I push back from his touch. He's not getting away that easily.

"Are you going to explain what just happened? You kneeled before me." Pushing the fear away at the thought, I try to sound authoritative, but I know I failed because he just grins and shakes his head.

"I can't tell you, the Mother was explicit in that." Scowling, I try to walk away, fed up with never knowing what's happening. Quicker than I would have thought possible, he grabs my wrist and pulls me to a halt.

"Know that you are exactly where you need to be." His voice isn't his own, his eyes glazed over again, and I swear I hear the Mother talk through Wilson. Heart pounding in my chest, I nod dumbly, not finding any words. If the Mother says this is all I need to know, then I have to trust in her that she knows what's best.

Eyes clearing once more, Wilson blinks and looks down at where his hand is clutching at my wrist. With a noise of surprise, he quickly let's go, shaking his head as he mutters something quietly under his breath.

"Are you okay?" I inquire timidly, needing to know that Wilson is once again in charge of himself. Trusting in the Great Mother and seeing her take control of someone I love are two completely different things. I won't lie in saying that she doesn't scare me, especially when I see exactly how powerful she is.

"Yes, the Mother chose me. To send a vision to me. " The awe in his voice breaks my heart a little. Grayson told me that Wilson has had a difficult life, and when he was chosen to be a magician that life didn't get any better. He had a tough time at the academy and eventually came to work in the capital as one of the castle magicians. He's never complained about his position or his lot in life, even though I've seen the looks that the others in the castle give him.

"Anyway, we should go. Grayson's in a meeting, but he'll meet us there."

It's only then that I realise he's dressed in his smart uniform and I have a sense of déjà vu from the last ball I attended. Linking my arm with his, we walk through to the dining room, and with a quick good night to Jayne, we leave Grayson's quarters.

The journey to the ballroom is quiet, we don't speak much, content with each other's company, but as we enter the main corridors the noise of people talking hits us. The hall is full of beautifully dressed people, much like the last time Wilson and I took this walk, and the voices dull to a hush as we walk through, many sets of eyes watching us, whispers following us.

"They're just jealous that we look so damn good," Wilson whispers to me, which puts a smile on my face. It's a small one, but a smile all the same. Reaching the entrance of the hall, we pause as we're announced before walking into the grand room and heading straight for the buffet table.

"I hate these things," he whispers to me as he nods at a portly gentleman, the only other person by the food. Snagging a glass from the tray of a passing server, Wilson drinks half of the pale, sparkling liquid in one go.

"We don't have to stay long, right? We just have to show our faces?" I question hopefully, as I glance around the room, spotting Aileen and the gentleman who I assume is her father from the resemblance between them. Wilson's chuckle pulls my attention back to him, and I raise one eyebrow at his expression.

"I can leave as soon as Grayson arrives. It's you I feel sorry for."

"What do you mean?" A sinking feeling fills my stomach.

"You're the shiny new plaything. I've been hearing rumours about you." His smile widens as he sees my expression, laughing at my discomfort at the prospect of people talking about me. "I think Grayson is going to have to share you with others more. The fact you disappear for days without an appearance is starting to become noticed."

I still. This is more serious than a couple of rumours. If people are noticing that I'm not about, they might start to ask questions and go hunting for answers, which we can't afford for them to discover. Wilson is glancing around us, his attention caught on someone else on the other side of the room rather than my internal panic. Grabbing his hand, he looks back at me, frowning at my severe expression and realising something's upset me.

"Does Grayson know?"

"Yes, but—"

A loud banging causes the room to fall silent, the music stopping as everyone turns to the archway. The hall is full of well-dressed people now, and I'm sure that there can't be many more arriving.

"Announcing, the King and Queen of Arhaven."

Dropping into a curtsy, I feel Wilson bowing next to me, silently pleased that I didn't need to be prompted this time. Perhaps I can do this after all. Rising, I see the king and queen walking towards their thrones, holding hands as the crowd parts for them. "Their Royal Highnesses, Prince Rhydian, Prince Michael, and Prince Jacob."

"The king didn't attend the last ball," I whisper to Wilson, as we watch the finely dressed royals take their thrones, the princes following closely behind.

"No, neither him nor the queen usually attend these things. It's only because Rhydian is back that he's here. He'll stay for an hour before finding a young lady and then invite her back to his quarters. Oh…" He stops as he sees my wide eyes, realising he's said too much. Lifting his glass to his lips, he throws back the rest of his drink before cursing under his breath. "I didn't say that."

"The king is sleeping with one of the ladies?"

He snorts, and I'm pretty sure I hear him mutter, "One of," before raising his gaze to mine. "I said too much. I had a drink before I came to pick you up and it's loosened my tongue," he says with a sigh. "Please don't say anything."

"Of course I won't."

The atmosphere in the room changes, and as I glance around I see everyone is facing the arched doorway once again. Standing there, wearing their leathers and furs, are the men from the mountain tribes. The steward by the door appears anxious as he looks over them, and after a brief conversation with the men, he finally clears his throat.

"The men and women from the mountain tribes," he announces loudly, but he needn't shout however, as the room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Everyone watches the tribesman, but I turn my attention to the royals. The king and Rhydian are watching with barely concealed disgust. Michael just looks bored, his roaming gaze on the ladies mingling nearest his throne. Jacob is watching the advancing folk with interest, nodding his head to the leader as they come to stand in front of the thrones, dipping their heads once in acknowledgement before turning away and breaking off into groups.

The person whose reaction is the most interesting is the queen's, and I remember the story Jacob told me in the courtyard—the queen had once been married to one of the mountain people. She's leaning forward in her throne, her eyes wide as she skims her gaze over them. She tries to hide it, but I see the mix of excitement and pain that having these people here is causing her, and I'm not the only one. The king places a hand on her arm and whispers something to her that has her back stiffening and her face tightening. Nodding once, she pulls her arm from his grip and stands up before storming from the room.

If anyone thought her behaviour odd, no one comments on it, and as the musicians start playing again, couples gravitate to the centre of the hall and begin dancing.

"Mage Wilson, I see they let you out to terrorise us all again." Anger fills me from the insult aimed at my friend, but Wilson just grins as we turn to face the familiar woman.

"Ah, Lady Aileen, I had hoped to get through most of the ball before you sought me out, you hateful wench."

I stand awkwardly between the two as they glare at each other. Wilson's grinning like the cat who's got the cream, so I don't think he's offended by her comment, and just as I'm about to step in they begin laughing. Throwing his arm around her, he pulls her into his embrace before turning that grin on me, but I don't miss the adoring look she shoots Wilson.

"Clarissa, have you had the honour to be introduced to this pitiful excuse of a lady?"

I look between the two of them again, fairly sure they are joking based on the grins on both their faces, but I have no idea how to answer. I'm also pretty sure that Wilson is completely oblivious to the fact that Aileen is in love with him.

"Oh, have pity on the girl, Wilson. She looks like she's about to implode." Aileen grins, strands of her wild, curly red hair falling out of her updo. "We have met before, at the ceremony."

"Oh yes, I always forget you're still a baby," he says as he frowns down at her with mock disapproval.

"So you two know each other?" This much is obvious, but I don't know how to politely ask about their history, especially as they are throwing insults left, right, and centre. Thankfully, Wilson takes pity on me.

"We grew up together. Aileen's father came here for diplomatic work and brought this brat with him. I saw her threatening to beat up one of the spoiled children from the houses if they didn't share their toy, and I knew we were going to be friends."

"He adopted me, and seeing as we were both outsiders, we decided to stick together," she explains, turning to the buffet table behind us and filling up a plate with sweets and pastries. They start playfully bickering once again and I study them. They're easy around each other, and Wilson is relaxed and happy in a way I only see when we're alone and away from the prying eyes of the nobles.

I like her , I realise, a faint smile gracing my lips as I watch them. She's always seemed different to the other ladies, having views on the lower classes that others don't share, not to mention she's friends with Wilson.

I'm glad he's got someone here other than me, in case… I pause at the thought. In case of what? That I wouldn't be here. If I was killed by the beatings from the guards, or it's discovered who I am, or a whole host of other possibilities…I just have to hope that if anything does happen to me, he's not involved in any way. The thought of him getting hurt because of me makes me shudder.

"Lady?" a gruff, deep voice interjects behind me. I turn quickly, my skirts spinning around my legs, and find someone standing very close to me. Pressing my hand to my chest as if to still my pounding heart, I eye the man who spoke. It's the tribesman, the one who was watching me during the meal earlier. That tingling sensation returns as soon as our eyes meet.

Not this again, I think to myself as I rub my arms, as if the action will take away the feeling. His eyes lock onto my movements, as if he knows exactly why I'm doing it.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he states, and some might take that for an apology, but from the lilt in his voice I know he finds the fact he took me by surprise amusing.

He's tall, like the rest of his tribesmen, and his loose linen shirt and the wolf pelt thrown over his shoulder does nothing to hide his muscled physique. His sharp jaw and piercing, dark eyes bore into me, as if he can discover all my secrets with just one look. Dark hair reaches his shoulders, but the right side of his head is shaved and a tattoo marks the skin there, a swirling design the arches around his ear and down his neck. I can see a hint of a tattooed chest from the opening at the top of his shirt. He wouldn't be considered classically handsome, but his looks are striking, and I can't deny that there's a…pull. Not like the one with the elf, but like being around him makes me feel powerful.

Realising how close we are standing to each other, and that I'm staring at him, I take a step back and knock into the table, the plates rattling against one another. Hearing the commotion, Wilson turns around and, realising I hadn't followed him and Aileen down the table, hurries to my side, his face uncharacteristically serious.

"Is everything okay here?" His voice is polite as he places a hand on my arm. The tribesman follows the movement, narrowing his eyes at the action. I get the feeling Wilson isn't actually asking me, but I open my mouth to answer anyway.

"Will you dance with me?" The tribesman grinds out, his whole posture stiff and promising violence, but Wilson doesn't back down. He takes a step closer to me, his gaze still locked on the other imposing man.

"Clarissa," Wilson murmurs, his hand tightening on my arm, and his voice filled with caution and a warning. If I decide to go with the tribesman then he can't protect me. I don't know what type of agreement Arhaven has with the mountain tribe, but it seems fragile. Turning to the mage, I place my free hand on top of the one he has on my arm, squeezing it gently.

"It's okay, Wilson, I won't be far."

He turns to me, his eyes portraying the words he can't voice. Don't go, it's not safe. I can't protect you. Please. Taking a deep breath, I squeeze his hand again and step toward the tribesman, placing my hand in his outstretched one. Ignoring his smug smile, I glance over my shoulder as we walk away, giving Wilson an apologetic look.

I know I'm safe. I have no evidence to prove this, but something about him tells me that he won't let anything happen to me. As we step onto the dance floor, he pulls me to a stop.

"Clarissa. Interesting name." His deep voice makes me shiver. I stiffen slightly at the way he says my forename, like he doesn't believe me. Clarissa might be a new name for me, but it is my name now. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. He places his hand on my hip and stares down at me as if he's trying to figure me out. Looking around, I notice people are watching us as we stand in the centre of the room, not dancing, not moving, just…standing. I raise an eyebrow and gesture to the others around us, but he grins at me. It's not the friendly, jolly type of grin, but one that reminds me of a wolf when it captures its prey. "This was the only way I could get you alone. I don't dance, at least not with your kind."

Blinking, it takes me a moment to process what he just said, then anger and outrage builds as I take a step back from him, not wanting his hands on me.

"My kind?" I spit, shaking my head in disgust at his attitude. If he really knew who— what I was—he probably wouldn't even be talking to me. "If we are so abhorrent to you, then why did you seek me out?" My eyes are burning as I stare him down, fists clenched at my sides.

His expression changes, as if he's seeing me for the first time, and something akin to shock forms on his face. It's like he's reassessing me, seeing the fire and anger that burns within me. A knowing smile spreads across his lips and he takes a step closer, putting us within touching distance again. "There's something different about you, Clarissa. " My heart speeds up, pounding in my chest. "I know you won't tell me, but I will figure it out."

Staring up at him, I refuse to let him see my fear. Not fear of him, but fear that he knows more than he should. Knowledge is dangerous. Instead, I make my face a mask of boredom.

"You know my name, are you going to tell me yours?"

He laughs, as if he can see straight through me. "Torsten, but my clan calls me Tor."

I'm just about to reply when I see movement over his shoulder. Leaning slightly to the side, I spot the youngest prince, with an expression of concern on his face, at the same time I feel a familiar presence at my back. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Grayson and fight the urge to groan.

"Clarissa, are you okay?"

"On first name terms with the prince, I see."

"What's going on here?"

They all speak at once, their voices merging so I can't tell who says what as they glare at each other with me in the middle. With all of them this close, my skin feels like it's on fire, my breath coming in pants and my body tingling. My vision closes in and I know if I don't get away, I'm going to pass out. There are too many sensations.

"I need air," I gasp out, as I push past Tor and Grayson, hurrying to the door. They call after me, my name cutting through the music, and I know everyone is watching me, but I need space. I'm worried someone will follow me, but I see Wilson nod at me before hurrying over to the squabbling trio of guys behind me.

I don't know what compels me to run to the Queen's Courtyard, but as soon as I step into the space, the cool night air brushes against my too hot skin, and I feel like I can breathe again. Uncaring that the stone is freezing and will seep through my dress, or that I might catch a chill out here, I take a seat on one of the benches. I'm lucky the cold doesn't seem to affect me as much as my fellow Arhaviens.

Leaning back, I look up at the stars above, enjoying the quiet peace, the only sound the gentle trickle of the fountains. When I was a child, I used to believe the stars were far away spirits that looked over us. I used to pray to them, ask for them to rescue me, to save me from my life as a slave. That soon got beaten out of me.

"You made quite a scene when you went running out of the ballroom."

With a gasp, I jump up from the bench, seeing Crown Prince Rhydian leaning against one of the other fountains. Cheeks flushing, I quickly drop into a curtsy. Why do people keep surprising me today? He must have been moving quietly, as I hadn't heard anyone enter the courtyard.

"Your Highness, I apologise, I just needed some space."

He watches me, his body completely still, the only noise between us is the water in the fountains. I don't know much about this prince, other than he's been fighting on the front lines, but I'm getting an uneasy feeling around him, like I shouldn't be out here alone with him.

"I can see why they're all fighting over you, you are quite alluring." He takes a step toward me, and I have to fight again the shudder his words induce. I become more tense with each step he takes, his movements quiet and fluid. Shaking my head, I look around to see if there is anyone else around us, someone who could help should I need it, or act as a distraction.

"I don't want anyone fighting over me."

Snorting, he shakes his head as he continues to prowl toward me, one slow step at a time. The closer he gets, the stronger my gut instinct is screaming, get away!

"Isn't that all you ladies want? Princes and magicians fighting for your hand."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Your Highness, but I'm not like most ladies." My voice hardens, my anger starting to flare up again. I'm tired of being treated like an object, something to order around, to fight over. His eyes light up as he steps in close, his hand snaking out and landing on my hip. My unease doubles and something grows within me, something unfamiliar and unknown. I want to push him away, to shout at him to never touch me again, but this is the crown prince. Goddess blessed or not, I would be executed faster than I could blink if I laid a hand on him.

"I'm beginning to see that." Like a viper, his other hand shoots out and grabs my left arm, turning it so he can see the mark on my wrist, his thumb brushing at the fabric concealing it. If he keeps doing that, he will see my other marks hidden below the cuff. Fear courses through me and I know I need him to let go before it's too late. Even through the light fabric, every time he brushes over my Goddess mark, nausea runs through me.

"Prince Rhydian, what are you—"

"Lady Clarissa, there you are. I've been looking all over for you." The queen's voice fills the courtyard, and I've never been more glad to see anyone in my life. I swear Rhydian's eyes flash with something inhuman for a second before he pastes a smile on his face and takes a step away from me. As soon as we lose contact, a wave of relief floods through me, but I try not to let it show as I slowly back away from the prince as he focuses on the queen.

"Mother. What are you doing here?"

"I came for Lady Clarissa, we have some things to discuss."

There's a pause as the prince stares down his mother. It's obvious he doesn't believe her, and from her flushed face I would guess she came here for an entirely different reason. However, she holds her own, smiling pleasantly at her son, who simply narrows his eyes before nodding.

"Mother. Lady Clarissa," he says as a way of addressing his goodbyes, before stalking out of the courtyard with that unnatural grace of his.

The courtyard falls silent as the queen runs her eyes over me before sighing and walking up to one of the fountains, running her fingers through the water. She looks like she carries the weight of the world on her shoulders, and although I don't know her, I wish I could offer some way to help, to lighten that burden. I probably shouldn't, after all, her husband was the one to sentence me to a life of slavery as a child. But something about her is familiar, perhaps it's the shared feeling of loss that makes me feel close to her.

"You wanted to see me, Your Majesty?"

"I know you're smart, there's no need to pretend. You needed rescuing from my son, so I provided you with an excuse. I love my son, but he's too much like his father."

How am I supposed to reply to that? If I agree, then I am insulting not only her son, but the crown prince, their heir to the throne. Instead, I walk up to the fountain she's leaning against and stand beside her, facing the water as I speak.

"Thank you." My whisper is so quiet I'm not sure she would hear it, but her soft smile and the incline of her head tells me otherwise. We stand in companionable silence, the queen and the ex-slave.

"Do you know why this courtyard is here?"

"I was told that it was a gift from your husband. There were some other stories too, but…"

"You are too kind, you can speak freely with me," she assures, before starting her story. "I was previously married, but he died. And my current husband, the king, had always wanted me. I was in this very spot when he told me that my husband had been killed. The ladies of the houses whispered that this was a romantic gesture, that the king built me a private place to grieve a lost love. But it wasn't. He is a jealous man, my husband. He built this place to remind me of the day when my whole world changed."

"Why do you keep coming here then?"

"I come here to remember, to remember exactly the type of person my husband is."

I want to ask what type of person that is, but I run out of courage, instead staring at the water. The sound of footsteps echo around us and the queen lets out a small sigh as she pushes away from the fountain.

"Good night, Clarissa, it was nice to meet you formally."

"Thank you, Your Highness."

Finally alone, I collapse onto one of the stone benches and stare up at the stars, my thoughts confused and tangled. It's been such a long day and I'm craving my ridiculously puffy bed, but I can't face the prospect of running into anyone else in the corridors. So, I pull my feet up onto the bench and wrap my arms around my knees, my skirts long enough that they cover my feet. Instead of praying to the stars that don't listen, I pray to the Great Mother for guidance and courage, because I get the feeling I'm going to be needing a lot of it soon.