Chapter 5

CHAPTERFIVE

My gaze is immediately drawnto an older man with kind eyes and copper skin sitting on one of the three oversized couches in the center of the room, beneath the gilded chandelier. When he spots me, he places his goblet of wine on the table, and stands to attention, buttoning his jacket with one hand in a swift, practiced move.

His companion—a curvaceous woman with deep umber skin—joins him. They smile as we approach, both too polite to glance at my inappropriately informal clothing for more than a moment.

Or maybe they don’t realize a robe isn’t my usual choice of clothing. Considering their suffocatingly bland outfits, they’re clearly not from here. Who wears a jacket on a tropical island?

This man certainly has the aura of a king, yet wears no crown.

“Ah, this must be your darling girl, Enira,” the older man says in a baritone voice. “Pleasure.” He steps forward, pressing a kiss to each of my cheeks before the woman at his side follows suit.

Definitely not a Hakran custom. Mother hates being touched by strangers, unless it’s on her terms…or in her bed. I, on the other hand, find the greeting delightful.

“Pleasure is all mine,” I say, bowing my head, giving the Hakran customary show of respect.

“Astrid, dear, this is King Emman Vannyk and his wife, Queen Joccelyn Vannyk, from Stellaris,” Mother says. Her mouth is still stretched tight, and I wonder if anyone else notices how fake her smile is.

When I sit beside my mother, the king and queen return to their seats on the couch across from us. The man I met in the hallway sits on the couch to my right, next to another young man I don’t recognize.

“You can call me Emman. There’s no need for formalities,” the Stellari king says, shooting me a wink. “This is our son and heir, Zale.”

Shifting my eyes to the other couch, I exhale as the man I haven’t yet met stands.

Thank the goddess that ass from the hallway isn’t the prince.

I spare the stranger a quick glance, and his mouth twitches as though he’s fighting a smile.

Prince Zale steps toward me with a forced smile, his body rigid. “Lovely to meet you, Princess.” I allow him to greet me with the same double-kiss as his parents, but it’s much less welcoming. It seems he doesn’t want to be here anymore than I do. He’s a perfect mix of them both, with his mother’s almond eyes and high cheekbones, and his father’s tall stature. His jaw is shaved clean, his suit perfectly pressed.

This guy is prettier than I am.

When he concludes his greeting, I bow my head again, playing nice, mostly for Mother’s benefit. I hate political games, and I hate not knowing what’s going on.

The handsy guy from the hallway watches, amusement dancing in his golden-brown eyes. His good humor contrasts starkly with the prince’s serious, composed demeanor.

Who does this ass think he is, traipsing all over the palace? Talking to the vessel and the princess?

“And who is this?” I ask, staring at the ass in question.

“Apologies, Astrid. I assumed you two met on the way in. This is Dashiel Dargan,” Emman says.

I pull the belt of my robe tighter and hold my head higher, though my insides knot themselves.

“If you consider an assault a meeting, then yes. I’ve met Dashiel.” Joccelyn balks, and Emman’s brows furrow with concern. The prince is the only one without a reaction.

“If you consider preventing you from falling on your ass an assault, then yes, I’m guilty,” Dashiel says. Now it’s my turn to balk.

Everyone remains quiet, and Mother’s eyes do that thing where they close again, like she’s trying hard not to snap. I’ve never known her to bite her tongue, so this only adds to my unease.

“He also propositioned me prior to insulting me and my mother,” I say, refusing to look at him. I want to add the bit about him calling Mother names outside the servants’ door earlier, because that would tick her off immensely, but then he’d know it was me under that veyl, so I keep that bit to myself.

“Is that true?” Emman asks in a low voice.

“Perhaps there was a miscommunication between us. She assumed I belonged to Queen Enira. I simply corrected the princess, informing her I belong to her now.” He looks smug as he confidently spins his story for the room. “As for insults, I don’t remember any insults. In fact, I complimented her manners, implying she must get them from her mother. Though, I do recall her insulting me.”

“Sounds like you two are perfect for each other,” Zale says, breaking the tension. “Be a touch less sensitive, Dash. You won’t get your feelings hurt so easily.”

Much to my alarm, Dash scowls at the prince, but the Stellari king and queen chuckle as if this bizarre exchange is totally normal. Meanwhile, Mother stares at me with disappointment, as if I’ve done something wrong.

“Are we going to address the bit about him belonging to me?” I ask, refusing to let this strange encounter bother me. “Please tell me you’re not marrying me off to some bottom-feeding peasant, Mother.”

“Ah, there’s that sharp tongue,” Dashiel says with a chuckle.

“Astrid,” she scolds through gritted teeth. “Are you intentionally trying to discomfit our guests?”

If I’m not mistaken, I think Mother is the only one truly discomfited

“What brings you four across the Insipid Sea?” I ask Emman, ignoring her and deciding to play nice instead. Ilona would tell me I can catch more flies with honey than vinegar, after all.

There has to be a reason the royal family is visiting, and I’d like to get to the bottom of it. Their presence might explain why Mother has been out of sorts lately.

Stellaris—a country with numerous coastal cities and trading ports—is located across the Insipid Sea, a temperamental body of water known for its spontaneous storms. Even skilled sailors have difficulty navigating it.

The people of Hakran normally keep to themselves, partly because of those storms, but also because the cliffs and rocky sandbars make it dangerous and complicated to return ashore.

Many sailors have declined trade with Hakran, because they fear the destruction of their ships. The sharp, jutting rocks on our side of the sea make trade risky. The price of importation is steep, and exportation is basically nonexistent, which contributes to high rates of poverty on our island.

“Oh, we came to witness the incredible transference we’ve heard so much about,” King Emman says with a twinkle in his eye. He holds up a glass of wine, offering a toast to the room. Queen Joccelyn, Mother, and Prince Zale follow suit. With no glass prepared, I sit back and cross my legs. “To Queen Enira, Princess Astrid, and the vessel. Long live Hakran.”

There is no trace of the laughter I initially heard from the other side of the door.

Political posturing it is.

As they continue to make polite conversation about the palace, I assess the energy in the room. With only the five of them nearby, and a handful of guards around the perimeter, I’m able to follow each thread of energy and sort out its owner.

Focusing on King Emman first, I pull the thread of his energy toward me, inviting his emotions in. The man is mostly tired—unsurprising given his long journey here—but he’s also amused and mostly untroubled, other than a small hint of nervousness. That could be from anything—being in a new place, meeting my mother for the first time, or any number of things. Nothing sinister stands out about him.

Queen Joccelyn is next. Releasing the king’s energy and drawing hers to me, I’m relieved to learn her feelings are virtually identical to her husband’s. If anything, the queen feels even calmer, more relaxed.

When I get to Zale, I discover he’s even more nervous than his parents. He’s uncomfortable and, oddly, insecure. A wave of guilt washes over me at my invasion of his vulnerability, so I shut down our connection, switching to Dashiel instead.

Nothing.

Emptiness.

Like there’s some kind of barrier keeping me from reading him. As if he can feel my eyes narrowed on him, he shoots me a smirk before returning to the conversation.

Ass.

There is definitely something wrong about him.

Lastly, I draw Mother’s energy in, picking up on strong agitation and desperation. That is an odd combination for the most confident, collected woman I know.

I close myself off to the connections, glad no one can tell when I’m using my basic vygora powers.

When Dashiel’s eyes shift back to me a moment later, I squirm, uncomfortable beneath his gaze. After a few intense seconds of staring each other down, I decide I’ve had enough.

“Mother, if you would please excuse me, I’m tired and must head to bed,” I lie. Ilona’s waiting for me in the library and I’ve already been gone longer than I intended. Plus, if everyone here is going to talk in circles and avoid the important conversations, I have no interest sitting through it. Small talk is as shitty as politics.

“Nonsense, Astrid. The Vannyks journeyed all this way to meet us. Stay,” she says. I clench my teeth, feeling stuck.

“Oh, let the dear girl go, Enira,” Emman says. “Goddess knows we will be here for quite some time. We will have many opportunities to get to know one another. There is no need to rush our friendships.” He grins at me, shooting another wink.

Mother inhales sharply at being told what to do in her own palace. But she smooths out her expression quickly, nodding in agreement. “Yes, yes. You are excused, Astrid. Please be prepared to entertain our guests until further notice.”

Did she let someone order her around? What is happening?

Swallowing my concern, I smile at everyone before bowing my head respectfully one final time. I scurry out of the room, sliding the doors shut behind me. Releasing a whoosh of breath, I mentally thank Emman for sticking up for me.

What a strange evening. No wonder Mother’s been on edge today. Considering how little she communicates with the other countries, I can’t imagine she’s impressed to have a visit from other royals. If I cared more about politics, I’d probably be concerned, but alas, I don’t. Mother can deal with whatever problems might arise.

For now, I have a smutty book with my name on it.