Chapter 8

W hen the guards come to collect me several hours later, I expect to be beaten like I had previously, their eagerness and need for violence shining clearly in their eyes. However, as soon as they see my limping, exhausted form, they turn on Vaeril.

"What did you do to her?" the guard in charge bellows, taking a few menacing steps towards Vaeril, but he stops when the elf levels a glare at him. I don't blame him, it's a look that promises bloodshed. Even a restrained elf, as they believe him to be, would be a formidable opponent, and they don't even know that his cuffs are now obsolete.

The head guard's companion watches me with disdain as I push to my feet and stumble towards them, stopping a few steps away. "If we beat her now it will be obvious, and the priest was explicit. No one can know."

"Taking all the fun out of our job," one of the guards from the door calls out, his crossbow pointed at Vaeril's chest. For a moment, I think he's going to shoot and cause the elf pain to make up for the violence they missed out on with me.

"Don't worry, we'll have plenty of time to play with her another day, but right now, she's expected," the guard in charge says in a placating tone, striding forward and grabbing my arm as he drags me towards the door. I want to shudder at the implication that I am nothing more than a plaything, but I don't have the energy. With Grayson gone, I'm sure I'll be down here every day. The only thing stopping them from holding me down here indefinitely is the fact Wilson is keeping an eye on me, which I now understand is exactly why Grayson instructed him to do it.

The sound of banging stops, and I raise my head just enough to see Vaeril watching me, his face set in a heavy frown, his hands balled into fists.

I want to snap their puny, worthless necks and watch as the life drains from them. The thought floats through my mind, and I frown as I'm dragged farther away. That wasn't my thought. I must be so tired that I'm hearing things now. There's no way I can hear Vaeril's thoughts, and I'm sure he didn't say it out loud, the guards would have said something if he did.

Vaeril's staring at the guards with a look of pure hatred now, and I'm worried he's going to do something stupid. If he attacks them, we will never escape, especially with me as exhausted as I am.

Look at me , I think, wishing I could talk to him, assure him I will be back, and to my surprise, he does—his eyes instantly flick to mine. I don't have time to dwell on it, but I know this will consume my mind later. I shake my head. I'll be fine, they aren't going to hurt me . I wish there was some way to project my thoughts to him, but instead I simply hope he can read my expression and hold back his rage—at least until it's time for us to escape.

He dips his chin slightly, and to anyone who was looking, they wouldn't have noticed the slight movement, but I know he was agreeing with me.

Not yet.

Wilson met me at the end of the corridor where he'd left me this morning. His frown was severe when he saw my exhausted state, but thankfully he didn't bring it up when I gave him a look. He helped me back to my rooms, with more assistance than I would like to admit, and left me in Jayne's very capable hands, saying he would return for me later.

It was only when I was soaking in the bath that I remembered what the guard had said. "She's expected."

Expected by who? I hadn't thought to question it before, but the thoughts plagued me while I was bathing. I was also worried, wondering why Wilson didn't stay for supper like he usually would, instead returning for me later.

I look at myself in the mirror as Jayne combs and styles my now golden curls, the magic clinging to me. I find myself here often with her steady, gentle, calming hands, and I realise I quite enjoy this process of getting ready. It's obvious I'm going somewhere for supper rather than eating here like I usually would. I hadn't heard of any balls being called for tonight, so I'm still wondering over the ‘expected' comment from earlier. Should I be worried?

Jayne helps me into a beautiful, deep blue dress, the rich fabric complimenting my pale skin without making me look washed out. It's not a ballgown, but it is much smarter than the usual court dresses I would wear around the castle. The neckline goes from shoulder to shoulder, scooping across the front of my chest. It doesn't go low enough to show cleavage, but it definitely accentuates the bust I am starting to develop thanks to good, regular meals. A delicate silver star necklace, which matches the two star pins in my hair, finishes the look.

Taking a step back, Jayne assesses her work with a small smile in place, but I can tell from the tightness of her eyes something is bothering her.

"Do you know what the occasion is?" I ask, as I watch my friend through the mirror. She walks to my side and offers me a hand to help me stand before turning her attention to my dress, straightening the skirts and brushing off imaginary lint.

"No." Her answer comes straightaway, but there's something she isn't saying. Frowning at her, I reach out and touch her arm gently to stop her fussing.

"But you know something…"

Sighing, she finally meets my gaze. "I've heard rumours, that's it, and the person who told me is notorious for spinning stories." Her pitch gets higher as she speaks, her words getting faster. I just nod, but from her reaction I would say she's worried that whatever she's about to say will upset me.

"Tell me, it's okay."

"There's a rumour that the king and Prince Rhydian are inviting eligible ladies and their escorts to private meals and hosting a ball after." My eyebrows raise as she speaks. Private balls are being ran for the prince to choose a bride.

Well, that would explain what the guard said about being expected. Nausea rolls through me, and I wish I had an excuse not to attend. Perhaps I could feign an illness? You don't even know if that's what is going on. Wait for Wilson, he'll know more, I reassure myself, but Jayne's anxiousness is infectious, and I find myself spinning the silver bangles on my wrists.

I find it funny how I'd been so desperate to remove my manacles when I was a slave, and now I'm obsessed with making sure my wrists are covered. I never thought I would miss the cuffs, but my new jewellery is the only way to hide the truth. Thankfully, I can wear my thick, cuff-like bangles without arousing any suspicion or showing off my marks.

A knocking at the door pulls me from my thoughts and I see Jayne startle, like she, too, had been deep in thought. She hurries off to see who it is, and I slowly make my way through to the main room, smiling when I see her talking to a smart-looking Wilson. He's combed his shaggy hair and is wearing his formal jacket magicians wear for official occasions such as this. Leaning against the doorframe, he chats with Jayne and makes her laugh, which I'm grateful for. She's been so anxious with everything going on. However, I can tell Wilson is on edge by the tightness around his eyes no matter how much he pretends otherwise.

"Wilson," I call in greeting, smiling as he grins at me and blows a wolf whistle as he takes me in. He gestures for me to spin so he can see my dress to its full effect.

"Clarissa, you look beautiful," he compliments, as he appreciatively looks me up and down. Had it been anyone else, I would be mad at the obvious appraisal, but this is Wilson, he would never do anything to make me feel uncomfortable.

"You've seen me in far grander dresses than this," I scoff, and I can't help but smile to myself at the absurdity of the comment. Who would have thought a slave girl would be remarking about the quality of her evening gowns?

"Yes, but tonight I have you all to myself," he teases with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

"Wilson, behave," Jayne scolds, but the effect is ruined when she laughs at the daft face he pulls. Savour this, I think, as I watch the two of them bickering with each other. The feeling that everything is about to change settles heavily over me, sitting like a weight on my chest. I may not have experienced freedom for long, but I will be forever grateful for the time I've had, which Grayson has given me.

"Are you ready?" Wilson inquires, and I get the impression it's not the first time he's asked. Nodding, I smile and take his offered arm before we say our goodbyes to Jayne.

Walking down the corridor, I look around, waiting until I know we're alone. The main passages will be much busier, so I need to ask while we're still in the residential part of the castle. Most of the lords and ladies live in the city, travelling by coach to attend the events at the castle, and these rooms are reserved mostly for guests, so I know now is my only chance.

Taking a step closer to Wilson, I keep my voice low as I speak, making sure to stay near. "Do you know what this is all about?" He smiles down at me and shakes his head. Anyone watching might think we are just a young couple enjoying each other's company, and that's exactly what he wants them to think.

"No, only that you and an escort have been invited to attend a meal in the great hall," he informs me, pulling a card from one of his pockets and handing it to me. I can't read it, but I trace my finger over the embossed letters. Taking the card from my grasp, he slides it back into his pocket before lowering his voice even more. "Although the rumour mongers say it's to do with Prince Rhydian choosing a wife."

My gut clenches, as his explanation matches with what Jayne told me.

They're just rumours. It could be for any other reason, I tell myself, my palms sweaty as I try to calm my racing heart. Unfortunately, it doesn't help reassure me much considering the recent, violent events that had taken over the castle.

"If that's true, then why have I been invited?" My voice rises as I become more nervous. Wilson squeezes my hand and gives me a reassuring smile.

A young lady and a man I assume is her father exit a door just ahead of us, greeting us with a nod. I don't recognise either of them, although they must have been at the same events as us. Wilson slows his steps and we wait for them to move farther down the hall before I speak again, leaning in close.

"Does the prince know about me? Why would he ever want to choose an ex-slave?"

Wilson shrugs his shoulders at my questions with a thoughtful expression. "Perhaps, but maybe he's just rebelling against his father? What better way to do that than to invite the most wildly inappropriate woman? Or perhaps they want to keep an eye on you?"

That makes sense. While the king knows, he might not have told Rhydian about my past. After all, Jacob doesn't know who I really am, so it could be possible that the crown prince doesn't either. All I know is that I don't want to be anywhere near the princes, they are dangerous.

What about Jacob?

Unease twists my stomach again. I like Jacob, and I've come to care for him. He is kind and sweet, nothing like his father who enslaved me. While he might not have been directly involved, he only noticed me when I became ‘Lady Clarissa.' Does being related to my captor make him my enemy ? Frowning, I shake my head at the thought. No, Jacob isn't my enemy, he's my friend. He can't help who his father is, after all, only his actions can dictate who he really is.

If he's your friend, if you trust him, you should be able to tell him who you truly are. Vaeril knows, even Tor knows, and you barely know him. My nagging doubt creeps back in. Could I tell Jacob about my past? About who I really am?

Thankfully, I'm saved from answering myself as we enter the main walkways of the castle and see the other young ladies being escorted towards the hall. Guards line every hallway, their shrewd eyes watching us with their hands hovering over their weapons. What do they think is going to happen? That one of the ladies will pull a weapon from their skirts? Snorting at the thought, I quickly smooth my expression when Wilson glances over with a questioning expression, but I can see how tense he is.

The atmosphere is heavy, which is something I wouldn't expect for a normal evening banquet. I've not attended many, but there's usually an air of excitement as everyone mingles and admires each other's expensive outfits. This feels very different. Everybody is wearing a smile, but their faces are tight and their eyes wary as they circulate, as if no one knows who they can trust anymore.

Reaching the large, wooden double doors which lead into the hall, Wilson pauses, places his hand on my arm, and pulls me into one of the little alcoves built into the stone. Looking up, I take in his grim expression. He seems older tonight, dressed in his ceremonial uniform, and I remember he's an accomplished magician, not just my goofy friend. Although I wish Grayson was here, I'm truly grateful Wilson is with me.

"I don't know what's going on or why we are here tonight, but I can't shake this feeling that something bad is going to happen," he murmurs quietly, talking quickly as he glances around, ever conscious that we're being watched. Thankfully, no one seems to be paying us much attention at the moment, but I know it won't stay that way for long. My gut concurs, something is afoot, and my Goddess mark starts to tingle with her agreement.

"But, Clarissa…" His voice changes, catching my attention. His gaze is intense, and he places his free hand on my shoulder as he speaks. "Whatever happens in there, I will protect you to the best of my abilities, I promise."

My throat goes tight and my eyes prick with unshed tears. Not caring where we are or who's watching, I throw my arms around him and pull him in for a hug.

"Thank you," I mumble into his chest, the only words I have to express how grateful I am to have him in my life. I'm not sure how long we stay like that for, I'm sure it's only a couple of seconds, but it feels longer, and I hadn't realised how much I needed that bit of reassurance.

Pulling away from me gently, Wilson smiles and offers his arm to me once more. "Are you ready, Lady Clarissa?"

I know what he's doing. He doesn't need to address me as ‘lady,' and he's not doing it for anyone else's benefit either, but to remind me of the role I'm playing. He's warning me that while I let my guard down just then, and I can't afford to do so once we step into that hall. Taking a deep breath, I accept his offered arm and nod.

"Yes, thank you, Mage Wilson." I flash him a small smile as he rolls his eyes at my formal retort. Stepping out into the main flow of people, we follow the trail of nobles into the great hall. Two of the usual, long banquet tables are parallel to each other, but the others have been removed, leaving a large space in the centre of the room. Although the tables are set, no one has taken a seat, instead all mingling at the back of the hall in small groups. As I look around, my suspicions are confirmed when I see mostly young ladies chatting excitedly with their fathers.

A flash of auburn hair is all the warning I get before Aileen appears in front of us, her out of breath father following closely behind.

"Thank the Mother you're here!" she announces loudly, and people around us turn to watch with distasteful frowns. "If I had to put up with any more babbling from those moronic ladies, I think I might resort to murder." I struggle to hide my grin, but see that Wilson doesn't bother, his delighted laugh echoing noisily around us. Aileen's father lets out a long-suffering sigh before turning to face us with a polite smile.

"Mage Wilson, I am pleased to see you here tonight." His accent is even thicker than Aileen's, but he looks exactly like an older male version of her. They're both wearing the same blue and green checked type fabric, Aileen's like a sash across the bust of her deep green dress, and her father is wearing what looks a lot like a skirt. I make a note to ask Wilson about that later.

"Lord Bastian, it's good to see you." Turning from the man, Wilson addresses his daughter. "Lady Aileen," he greets formally with a dip of his head, but I can see the grin playing on his lips. After a second of the two staring at each other, I clear my throat and he chuckles before looking back to Lord Bastian. "You've met Lady Clarissa."

The lord turns his attention to me, smiling warmly. "It's lovely to see you again, Lady Clarissa. My daughter has been causing quite a fuss about having to attend ‘yet another ball,'" he teases. Chortling, he places his hand on his stomach as he laughs. It's the kind of laugh that incites you to laugh also. Once he's calmed himself, he gestures for Aileen to come forward and join him at his side.

"It's lovely to see you again as well," I reply. I have no idea how to formally greet people, it's not something I've had to do much of, but with his big, friendly smile, I realise I like him. "Please, just call me Clarissa."

Aileen has been watching our whole conversation with a quirk of her lips. "I told you she's not like the others, Pa."

Lord Bastian looks like he's about to say something else, but a loud banging on the floor causes a hush to fall across the hall. Everyone instinctively clears a space, turning towards the sound which is coming from the doorway.

"Please stand for the entrance of the King, and Princes Rhydian and Michael of Arhaven," the steward announces loudly, and everyone watches in silence as our rulers make their way to their thrones at the other end of the hall. The atmosphere is tense, and from the shuffling of their feet and anxious expressions, I get the impression half of the attendants don't want to be here.

The king doesn't look at anyone as he passes, keeping his head high as he strides across the hall. Rhydian, however, is gazing around the room with a cruel smirk, his expression showing that he knows he owns us all. Michael simply saunters behind them, winking at some of the closest ladies as he walks by.

Frowning, I glance up at Wilson. "Where's Jacob?" I'm surprised he's not here, and a pang of concern runs through me. Wilson shakes his head, but I get the sense that even if he did know, he wouldn't tell me while we are surrounded by all these listening ears.

Once the king and the princes have taken their places, they turn their gazes to us, watching us in silence. Eventually, the king leans forward in his throne to address us.

"I suppose you're all wondering why you have been summoned here tonight." There is a quiet mumbling of agreement and the king gestures towards his son. "As I mentioned before, Prince Rhydian needs a wife. Those who have been invited here have been chosen as eligible, and the courting games will commence. One of the women here will become the next queen." The atmosphere suddenly changes, and I see many of the young ladies stand taller, their smiles dazzling. The fathers and chaperones get a gleam in their eyes as they look around at the competition. "Don't think this will be easy," he warns, his keen gaze locking onto certain people. "Each evening, you shall be invited to attend your evening meal in this hall. Here, you shall meet various members of my court and conduct yourself with the proper manners of a queen." Excited titters fill the hall and the king clears his throat with a frown. "The lady who performs the weakest will be... eliminated from this competition. There are dire consequences for poor performance, so don't disappoint me."

I get the feeling those consequences end with death, and from Rhydian's cruel grin, I know I'm right.

"You really didn't know anything about this?" I press him quietly out the corner of my mouth, seeing a couple of other ladies doing the same with their escorts. How has all of this been organised without anyone knowing? I'm still worried about Jacob not being here, his absence an ominous warning.

"No," Wilson answers with a frown. "But the Mother will guide you through this, you're her beloved, she won't let you fall."

Taking a deep breath, I nod as I turn to look at the other ladies gathered around us. "I hope you're right." Even as I say it, a knot forms in my stomach. I might be guided by the Mother this evening, but one poor woman will likely die tonight. I certainly don't want to be Rhydian's wife, but I also don't want to die, so I will ‘perform' to the best of my abilities.

Everyone is chatting away, their excited voices filling the hall as ladies socialise. Other people enter the hall and music starts up in the corner of the room. Some of the ladies are approached by the newcomers, and I notice a few of them are the king's closest advisors. Servers arrive with trays of appetisers and drinks, offering them to the guests. Several of the ladies simply grab a glass of wine and completely ignore the server. It's like the nobility have completely forgotten what's happening or what the king said. As we stand in our small group, I'm acutely aware of being watched, the princes and king still sitting at the top of the room as they observe us.

"What's going on here? I don't understand." Shaking my head, I try to figure everything out. There was a definite, blatant warning of consequences, but what would that be? I have no idea how to behave in situations like this. All these ladies have been brought up in this environment, this is their natural habitat. I am bound to fail whatever test this is.

"It's very clever," Lord Bastian tells me quietly, his eyes narrowed as he glances over at the king. "In politics, everything you do or say will be examined. Politics can be as brutal as battle, it's just more subtle and less messy."

This is exactly what I was fearing he would say, and panic starts to claw at my throat, but I fight to ensure my expression is neutral.

"What are we being judged on?"

Bastian shrugs and looks at Wilson for confirmation. "I'm not sure, one would assume on behaviour and interactions with his court." Aileen makes a slight noise, and I turn to see she's even paler than usual. I know she's thinking the same thing as me. She's always been outspoken and different, the court of her homeland very dissimilar to this one. Reaching out, I place my hand on her arm and squeeze, offering the only comfort that I can think of. I turn to Wilson and see he's looking vaguely sick.

"What do you think the consequences of failing would be?" I keep my question quiet, not wanting to be overheard, but he meets my gaze and his expression turns serious.

"I don't know," he replies with a shake of his head, but I can tell from the look in his eyes that he fears the same thing I do.

Mother above. What do I do? This time I can't contain my anxiety as my heart thuds in my chest, my breathing speeding up. Inhaling deeply, I look at my friend.

"Wilson, I don't know anything about this court—" He cuts me off before I can finish my sentence, but I notice Aileen frowning as she catches my slip-up.

"I know." He pulls me so I'm standing directly in front of him, placing both hands on my shoulders so he can see me. "Trust in the Mother, she will guide you. You are her beloved, and she won't let anything happen to you." As he speaks, I reach across and touch my Goddess mark, the instant tingling reassuring me as I feel the Mother's soothing energy flood through my body. Nodding, I take another deep, reassuring breath.

Around us, people seem to have gathered into small groups, mingling and sipping from tall wine glasses. Several ladies are dancing in a space that has been cleared near the musicians, and I notice Prince Michael has left his throne and is dancing with one of the ladies.

The rest of the evening goes much the same, and I'm beginning to think I was worrying for nothing. Lord Bastian introduced me to a couple of men that he knew from court, but we mostly stuck to ourselves.

"Nice to see you again, Clarissa, " a weaselly voice says from behind me. I cringe at how he emphasises my name. I turn to look at whoever the voice belongs to, and I instantly recognise the man as the king's advisor who I met in the library with Jacob. I can't remember his name, but thankfully Lord Bastian saves me from having to answer.

"Advisor Merritt. I didn't expect you to be at an event such as this."

I can see the advisor bristle and turn to look up at the tall lord. The size difference between them is almost comical, and I can tell from their expressions and the tension pouring out of them that there is no love lost here.

"Lord Bastian. Well, the king needs advice on who to… on who is suitable for the prince," he finishes with a small, tight smile, and I get the impression that wasn't what he was initially going to say. Clearing his throat, he narrows his eyes slightly. "I didn't expect to see you here either."

"My daughter was one of the lucky girls invited, I am escorting her." He almost manages to convince me that he's actually pleased to be here, but I can see the tightness in his shoulders and the hand he places on Aileen's back, pulling her closer to him.

"I see." He looks the two of them up and down, and his tone says he has no idea how Aileen was picked as a potential bride for the prince. I bristle, offended on her behalf, but I see Wilson shake his head slightly and know to shut my mouth.

"Clarissa, will you join me for a walk?" Merritt queries, holding out his arm, as if expecting me to say yes.

I don't want to be anywhere near this man, and certainly not anywhere where I'd be alone with him. How do I get out of this?

"Sorry, Advisor, but I can't let Clarissa leave my sight, so unless you don't mind me coming with you, may I request you stay within the hall?" Wilson speaks up as if he can hear my thoughts and I silently thank him.

"Mage Wilson, you're here too. How lovely." The barely concealed disgust in the advisor's tone and his appraising look just makes Wilson smile. His words are a deliberate insult, since he must have already seen the magician at my side.

"Always a pleasure, Advisor," Wilson replies, his smile strained.

Sighing with frustration, he holds his arm out to me again, obviously not going to let me say no. "Fine, we shall just walk around the hall. Clarissa?"

I glance at my friends, hoping one of them will say something to get me out of this, but they look at me with varying levels of sympathy. Giving the advisor a curt nod, I link my arm with his and follow as we start to walk away. We stay silent for a while, and I start to wonder why he came over to see me if he has nothing to say.

"I won't ask you to dance," he says lightly, not looking at me as we walk through the clusters of people milling about. "I don't suppose that's a skill they teach the slaves."

His comment is like a punch to my gut and I stumble slightly in surprise. Catching my footing, I keep looking straight ahead, not wanting to cause any sort of commotion that would bring attention my way. I want to blend in, not stand out.

"You know?" I ask quietly, already knowing the answer deep down. I realise that's why he was so off with me in the library that time I was there with Jacob.

"Of course, I am the advisor to the king. I advised against this whole charade, but the magicians insisted, and the king wanted to keep an eye on you." Again, he says this lightly, like he's discussing the weather, not my life. "I would tread very carefully, Clarissa ." Again, he sneers my name. "The magicians won't always be around to save you." We've reached the other side of the hall now, near where the musicians are playing, so it's harder to hear his soft voice over the music. He stops and pulls his arm away, giving me a look full of distain now that we are far enough away from listening ears. "Enjoy the game, Clarissa ." He spins on his heel and strides towards the king, who is watching us with interest from his throne. My heart pounds hard against my chest as his threat rings in my ears.

What did he mean by ‘enjoy the game?' Is that what this is to them, a game? My thoughts are racing, and I feel exposed being so far away from my friends—was that his intent? To get under my skin and separate me from those who make me strong?

"You are so much stronger than you think, my beloved." The Mother's voice soothes me, and I startle when I feel her presence settle over me, her calm soaking into my veins and wiping away my confusion and pain. "It is not Grayson or the mark on your arm that makes you strong. You are a survivor. I chose you because your heart is pure and you have the ability to become so much more." Her comforting tone continues, easing my ragged soul. "Be strong, my beloved."

The mark on my arm starts to glow, and the people around me gasp and turn to stare at me, all whispering as they realise I'm the blessed woman from the recent choosing ceremony. I want to shy away and hurry back to my friends, but I feel a hot set of eyes on me, and as I look up, I see the king is staring at me, his expression amused. He tips his head towards me and my mark flares again, but this time I'm filled with a sense of warning. The king means me harm, that much is true from the burning pain in my arm, so I must tread carefully.

Lifting my chin, I begin the walk back to my friends, simply nodding to those who smile or try to engage me in conversation but not stopping. The Mother chose me for some purpose—me, out of all these people—and I must trust in her wisdom.

As soon as I approach my friends, Wilson steps forward to escort me back to our group, linking my arm with his. "Are you okay?"

I don't say anything, not trusting my voice just yet, but I nod, and it's the truth. I am okay, I have the Goddess behind me. Reaching Aileen and Lord Bastian, I smile tightly when they give me sympathetic expressions.

"What did he want?" Wilson inquires, and I'm glad he waited to ask until we were back here. I know Aileen would have asked the same thing, so at least this way I only have to explain once.

"Slimy git," Aileen spits, glaring towards the advisor who is now talking into the king's ear.

"He was just warning me." I look at Wilson as I speak, hoping he understands what I'm trying to tell him and the implications behind it.

Picking up on the tension, Aileen glances between us, her brow furrowed in confusion. "What was he warning you about?"

I'm saved from answering when a loud clatter crashes through the hall. Gasps sound around us before everyone falls silent as they watch the spectacle. One of the ladies in a bright, rich purple dress stumbled into one of the servants, knocking against the tray he was carrying and sending glasses of wine smashing to the floor.

"You fool! You walked right into me." It's easy to see she's completely intoxicated, her words slurring as she struggles to stay upright. Grabbing onto the lapels of the serving boy's jacket, she pulls him in close, and for a second I think she's going to smack him. Anger surges inside me.

I should do something.

A hand on my arm has me turning to see Wilson shaking his head, and I realise I took an inadvertent step forward. Thankfully, no one seems to notice, and I step back, nodding my thanks at Wilson. My anger still burns, but now is not the time to cause a scene, not with so many people here just waiting for me to make a mistake.

"If you mess this up for me, I will—" The woman continues to shriek until someone hurries over to her and pulls her away, whispering furiously in her ear. The poor server backs away and tries to pick up the glasses with shaking hands.

I don't know what comes over me, but seeing him shaking under the stares of all those people makes something within me snap. Shaking off Wilson's hold, I walk over to the servant and kneel down next to him. I don't say anything, I simply start picking up the large pieces of glass and placing them on his tray, which is resting on the floor next to us. He looks at me with wide eyes, and I know he wants to say something, but so many people are watching us that he doesn't dare speak. My dress fans out around me, the edges soaking up some of the spilled wine, but I don't care. I'm sure I will get into trouble for this later, but I'm not going to pretend like I want to fit in with these people. After a couple of seconds, a shadow appears over my shoulder, and I steel myself for the consequences of my actions, but instead, Wilson kneels beside me and helps clean up the glass.

Once we've finished, the server whispers a quiet thank you before hoisting the tray and hurrying away. Standing, Wilson offers me his hand and helps me get to my feet. The music has restarted, and people are standing around pretending not to watch us as they gossip. He gives me a look, and I know he's not pleased with my little rebellion, but there's nothing to be done about it now. Leading me back over to Lord Bastian and Aileen, he opens his mouth to say something, but just closes it and remains silent.

"Brave move, young one," Lord Bastian comments, handing me a glass of wine which I gratefully accept, sipping the cool liquid. I still haven't gotten used to the tart taste of wine, but I'm grateful for it tonight, it's helping to take the edge off my nerves. I look up at him from the rim of my glass.

"He was shaking and scared. I wanted to help him," I explain simply, shrugging my shoulders as if my heart isn't still pounding. The tightness around my chest has eased a little now that the weight of the king's judging eyes is off me.

"I don't disagree, but it was bold given the circumstances," the Lord remarks, and I start to see where his daughter gets her attitude from. Aileen steps closer and puts her hand on my arm.

"I think you did the right thing. I only wish I was brave enough."

"It was stupid and reckless. Do you have a death wish?" Wilson fumes, and I round on him with raised eyebrows. He's never spoken to me like that before. Seeing my expression, he softens a bit, closing the distance between us and lowering his voice so he's just speaking to me. "I promised Grayson I would keep you safe, I can't do that if you keep pulling stunts like that."

"Wilson," I start, knowing what he wants me to say, but I can't. Shaking my head, I take a deep breath and try to calm my frustration. "I won't apologise for helping him. What has gotten into you? Why did you bother coming over if it was so stupid?"

"I'm sorry, I'm just worried. I really care for you, Clarissa, and if something were to happen—" He cuts off and looks away, running his hands through his hair, and I realise he was truly worried for me. Guilt rises, but I still don't regret helping that man, only that my actions caused Wilson to worry. "And I helped you because I knew it was the right thing to do. Plus, they can't harm me," he finishes, and he's right. As a magician, he has a little more immunity than the rest of us. If they were to harm him, it would damage the relationship between the royals and the mages.

I don't know what to say, my mind a jumble of feelings I'm not sure how to process or react to. Opening my mouth like a fish out of water, I begin to respond when a loud banging fills the room again, and everyone turns to the steward by the door.

"Please be seated for the evening meal," he announces in a loud, clear voice as everyone bustles over to the tables.

Wilson, Lord Bastian, Aileen, and I all walk over to the table and see cards with words written on them.

"Name cards. I'm surprised they're asking us to sit in certain seats, I wonder why," Wilson muses, and I follow him as we work our way up the table. He eventually finds our names and gestures for me to sit. I've found that if I stay quiet, people often read out loud, so I haven't been as restricted by my illiteracy as I thought I might be.

Once everyone is settled the food is brought out, and people make polite conversation across the table. We mostly keep to ourselves, but Bastian introduces me to a couple more people he knows who are seated near us. The meal passes quickly, and before I know it, our dessert plates are being taken away. A cough sounds from the head of the hall, and as I turn to look, I see the king is standing, waiting for us to give him our attention. Everyone quickly hushes and turns their heads to watch the king. Dipping his head in acknowledgement, he smiles, but it's not a nice smile, it's full of cruel anticipation. My wrist is tingling, and I know something awful is about to happen.

"Before you all leave, we have a... gift, for each of the ladies who were invited here tonight."

Titters and pleased sounds come from the ladies around us at the king's ‘kindness.' Our king is not known for his benevolence or generosity, but the prospect of being given a gift seems to override their common sense. Glancing over at Aileen, I see she is frowning too, obviously thinking along the same lines as me.

Servants enter the room with small boxes on their gleaming silver trays. Walking along the long tables, they hand out the boxes to each lady.

"Lady Clarissa?" a young girl who can't be older than sixteen asks, holding out a beautiful, gilded box.

"Yes, thank you," I say, as I accept the box from her. I want to examine it, but her expression stops me. She appears surprised at my gratitude and hesitates like she wants to say something. She glances from the box, to me, and then back again, with sadness in her eyes.

"May the Mother bless you," she whispers softly, before moving down the table and handing out the rest of the boxes.

An uneasy feeling fills me, and I watch her with a frown as she hurries down the table. The ladies are all cooing over their gift, and I turn my gaze from the girl to my box. It's beautiful, carved from wood with a stunning, red gem set into the top and gold leaf brushed onto the vines etched into the sides. For a moment, I think the box is the gift, but I see other ladies opening it and peering inside. Following suit, I see a small brown square in the centre of the box.

"It's a chocolate," Wilson tells me quietly, and I flash him a grateful smile. I've heard of chocolate, but I've never had the opportunity to actually try it, and even among the higher classes it's hard to get a hold of, and the prices rose exorbitantly after one of the towns that specialised in it was raided by elves a couple of years ago.

"Eat," the king announces, but it's more of an order than a request.

Regarding the small chocolate, I lift it from the box and examine it. It doesn't look like much, a small square with a slightly domed top, and I'm not quite sure why people seem to get so excited about it. A sweet fragrance reaches my nose, and I realise I must be smelling the chocolate. My mouth instantly starts watering.

"Are you going to eat it?" Wilson questions with a quirk of his lips. The ladies around me are popping the chocolate into their mouths, their hums of pleasure reaching me. With a smile, I roll my eyes at him and raise the chocolate to my mouth. Instantly, the sweet, creamy flavour explodes on my tongue and I close my eyes, understanding what everyone was talking about. It's delicious.

A gagging noise has me opening my eyes and looking around for the source of the sound. Farther down the table, I see a lady clutching her throat, and I recognise the woman who was drunk and causing problems earlier in the evening. The skin around her neck and lips is blistering as a greenish tinge colours her skin. Something connects in my mind and I look at the girl in horror. I've seen that before. Greenshade.

It's a plant that grows in the slums and fields around the city. When I worked on one of the farms, many slaves used to come back with these greenish burns on their legs where they had walked through fields of it. I've never experienced it myself, but the citrusy smell the harmless looking plant gave off was one of the only ways of telling it apart from any other weed. I can't even imagine how painful it must be to ingest it.

"This is the consequence of disappointing me. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Looking down at the now empty box, I realise what's happening—they have poisoned the chocolates. Although, as I look around, I can see not everyone has been affected. Panic fills the room as the ladies comprehend what's happening, their escorts calling out for medical aid. Some are hurrying from the hall, not glancing back as they leave the terror behind them.

Several other pained noises reach me, and I see a couple of ladies grabbing their throats with the same blisters appearing on their skin before they fall forward onto the table with a loud thump as blood trickles from their noses.

"This is madness," Aileen whispers, and I spin to see her wide eyes as she looks around the room, understanding what's happening.

"Are you okay?" Wilson queries, his voice high as he looks me up and down, checking for any signs of poisoning. My throat is tight, but I feel okay despite my pounding heart. I grip onto his hand firmly, needing to feel him, to be grounded. Aileen is doing the same with her father.

"No! I won't eat it, I refuse!" a high, panicked voice shouts, causing everyone to turn and see what the disruption is.

A young lady in a stunning emerald dress is staring down at the chocolate, her hands shaking. She looks terrified, her face twisted as she tries to get out of her seat, shying away from the guards who have circled her. The man next to her, who I assume is her father, is standing and trying to stop the guards from getting closer.

"Is there a problem?" Prince Rhydian's voice cuts through the clamour of voices, and everyone turns to stare as he stalks towards the girl and her father. That sick feeling returns, and I know this is not going to be pleasant. Reaching the older man, Rhydian clasps his hands behind his back as he waits for a response.

"Your Highness, please, this is unnecessary. My daughter has no interest in being queen, you can pick from the other ladies. Please, just spare my daughter," the father implores, as his daughter cowers next to him, whimpering under the stares of the king and prince. He gestures as he speaks, and I can tell how distressed he is at the thought of his daughter consuming poison. Rhydian simply grunts, "Huh," tilting his head to one side as he watches them with a deceptively calm expression on his face.

"Your daughter thinks she is above the throne?"

"No! I—"

"She is better than my loyal subjects who have done as asked? She gets to refuse an order from the king?" the prince continues, his voice still light and friendly, completely at odds with his words. The father has gone pale, realising that this isn't going to end well. I want to look away, I don't want to see what will happen next, but I can't seem to avert my gaze. I focus instead on Wilson's warm hand in mine, grounding me.

"Your highness, I—" The father tries again, his voice getting high as the woman's crying gets louder.

"Eat it," he orders, giving no room for refusal, but the father hurries forward as if he's going to touch the prince, plead with him, except he never gets close. The guards swarm in on him and pull him back. He's sobbing openly now, his daughter crying out as two guards grab her arms.

"No! Please—"

A loud smacking noise fills the hall as the prince backhands him. Stumbling back, the father clutches his quickly swelling face and bleeding nose, but he can't move far thanks to the guards holding him in place. Rhydian stalks forward and leans close to him, his face twisted into a snarl. "I said, eat ."

"No, no, please, I don't even want to be here!" Realising she's not going to get out of this, and seeing her father bleeding in front of her, she tries to pull away from the guards. Rhydian pushes forward and takes the box from her hand.

"Oh, thank you, Your Highness," she blurts in relief, obviously thinking he's taking the box from her so she doesn't have to eat the chocolate.

"Hold her," he orders the guards. Gasps fill the room as the remaining nobility realise what's about to happen. Following the orders from their prince, the guards tighten their grip, and one comes behind the woman and holds her head in a vice-like hold.

Her cries and unintelligible words fill the hall, and I see many people turn away, not wanting to see this young woman be forced to eat the chocolate that could contain poison. But I don't. Her eyes meet mine and I know I can't look away, she needs comfort, to know someone is witnessing what's happening to her. So I stand still as her jaw is forced open and the chocolate is shoved into her mouth, and then as they slam her jaw shut and hold onto her nose so she has to swallow.

"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Rhydian smirks, taking a step backward as he watches the woman closely for any reaction. He wants her to have one of the poisoned chocolates, I can tell from the excitement in his eyes. After a few seconds of nothing happening, he sighs and gestures for the guards to release the woman and her father as he turns and walks back to his throne.

The father hurries to his daughter's side, fussing around her and checking for any signs of poison. "Thank the Mother!" he murmurs, as she looks up and smiles at him, hope blooming in her eyes. Most people have turned away now, focusing on the prince, but I'm still watching her, so I see the moment her eyes go blank and she drops to the floor. Her father cries out and people gasp as they spin to see the young woman on the ground, bleeding from her nose as her blank eyes stare up at them.

"No!" On his knees, her father pulls her still body into his arms, his loud sobs echoing around the hall.

"Well, that's one way to cut down the competition," Aileen mutters quietly, her face pale as we stare at the unblinking corpses surrounding us.