Silas

It’s about damn time.

I thought this ball would never get started. It’s not like we have these every week. This is a big deal. Tonight’s celebration is in honor of Queen Regent Aliana of Ozeana, so everyone who's anyone will be here.

Which means the ballroom will be full of pretty ladies looking for husbands. Even though I have my sights set on the Corinna Blanchard heiress, that doesn’t mean I can’t still admire all the beauty.

A male staff member walks by me with a tray of little sandwiches of roasted boar and cheese. I snag one off the tray as he walks by and pop it into my mouth. Delicious.

But it only makes me thirsty. Luckily, another staff member, this time a buxom brown-haired woman with blue eyes so big they dominate her small freckled face, walks by, struggling to carry a tray loaded with mugs of ale.

Always the gentleman, I grab two of the mugs to loosen her heavy load. I toss a grin at her in thanks and then wink when she blushes.

Taking a sip of my ale, my gaze lazily sweeps the ballroom. The golden chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling cast brilliant yellowish sparks around the huge chamber, especially when a ray hits the shiny baubles adorning the ladies.

There’s King Ildris III standing on the dais near his throne, holding court with some of the wealthiest nobles, all wanting a chance to be seen with him and likely ask favors.

A half smile tugs at my lips as I watch him and casually take a drink of my ale. Ildris isn’t like most kings. He’s militant and gruff with a gigantic black beard and dark eyes. He’s not dressed in all the frills and frippery that most nobles wear, either.

He’s wearing a simple but elegant pair of black breeches with black boots and a crisp, white long-sleeved shirt. Over that is a deep blue vest with a million medals hanging off his broad chest. Well, perhaps not a million, but there’s a lot.

And they seem to draw the light from the chandeliers so that every time he moves, the shine from those medals practically blinds someone in the crowd.

King Ildris’s gaze keeps drifting up, toward the high balcony where the arriving guests are announced by the steward. He’s looking for the queen and by the way his bushy brows scrunch when he looks up, he’s disappointed she isn’t here yet.

Bored with watching King Ildris, I finish drinking one of my mugs of ale and set it on the long buffet table next to me.

My gaze travels across the room, stopping here and there on certain ladies. Like that one. Who is she? I don’t think I’ve met her.

She’s fair, not beautiful by societal standards, but she has black hair piled high on her head with a few wisps hanging down around her face.

She turns, giving me her profile, and I catch a glimpse of pink cheeks, as if she’s overly warm in that long pink dress she’s wearing, or someone said something to make her blush.

When she catches me looking at her, I give her a smile, then look away. I don’t want to give her the idea that I’m interested in getting to know her.

For the next while, I amuse myself by looking at the ladies. Narrowing my eyes, I bend slightly at the waist as if that will give me a better view, my gaze focused on the blond woman standing in front of a huge tapestry depicting a rugged mountain covered in snow.

There’s something about how the woman uses her hands to talk that is familiar to me. When she tosses her head back and laughs, I realize exactly who she is. Tanena. A long sigh escapes my lips.

Last year, I was convinced I was in love with Tanena. She seemed to be everything I was looking for. From a good noble family, funny, beautiful. But one day, I saw her heckling a poor merchant at market, insisting on buying his wares for a price far less than they were worth.

And that wasn’t the only time. It turned out, Tanena was stingy with her coin. Very stingy. Just like her parents. The one time I went to her home, I was astonished at how the staff were dressed in rags. And it wasn’t because Tanena’s family was poor. On the contrary, they had more money than they could spend in a couple lifetimes.

I quickly look away before our eyes can meet. If Tanena saw me looking her way, she would probably think I was interested again and try to rope me into another relationship with her.

A shudder ripples down my spine at the thought.

“Bad ale?”

I turn my head to see Lord Montagez standing next to me, his eyebrows raised as he glances pointedly at my drink. He must have seen me shudder and thought it was because of the ale.

“Nay, the ale is actually quite good,” I say, raising my mug in a silent toast.

Lord Montagez chuckles. “Then it must be a lady. Only two things can make a man shudder like that.”

I smile but don’t respond. The nobleman is not one of my favorites. Short and stout with a belly that extends far more than it should, the man is one of the worst gossips in Sky Citadel.

Looking over his shoulder, I nod my head and smile as if I see someone I know. “Excuse me, Lord Montagez, but I’m being hailed.”

The man nods, disappointment evident on his ruddy face. He was probably hoping to learn some juicy gossip from me.

I stroll away with no particular destination in mind, only that I know I want to get away from the nosey lord.

Where are Cedric and Rowan? I haven’t seen them and we are all supposed to be standing near the throne, as is our ducal responsibility. I just don’t understand why neither of them are interested in these parties.

They’re so much fun. Food and drink, dancing, meeting ladies. . . what’s not to love? I shake my head in frustration and move closer to the throne.

Even though this is a huge room it’s getting pretty crowded, so I have to weave toward the dais between guests, making sure no one knocks into me and spills my ale.

The steward blows his horn, indicating another guest has arrived. I turn, as does everyone else, and crane my head back to look up at the balcony.

“Ladies Isolde and Corinna Blanchard,” the steward announces and I feel a flutter in my heart as I strain to see the lady who might be my future bride.

The mother appears first, pausing dramatically at the edge so everyone can get a good look at her. Isolde Blanchard is a fine looking woman, even for her age.

She still has that ash-blonde hair that King Ildris described when I asked what Corinna’s mother looked like. I’m told if I want to know what a lady will look like when she’s older, take a good look at her mother. Lady Isolde had been a reputed beauty in her day, the king had told me.

Her silver gown, to match her hair, sparkles in the chandelier light. Isolde doesn’t exactly smile down at everyone. Her lips make the motion but end up looking like a haughty sneer to me.

Next, the younger woman who must be Corinna, steps up and pauses so everyone can admire her as well. Her gown is full and elaborate, with enough jewels dripping from her throat, wrist, and fingers to feed a village for a month.

But is she beautiful? I step closer to get a better look.

Like her mother, Corinna has silver hair and. . . I look closer. Aye, and silver eyes. The women turn to descend the spiral staircase and I start to walk toward them with the intent of introducing myself to Corinna. But I catch something out of the corner of my eye, a movement, and I stop walking in order to concentrate on the balcony. Is there another guest up there?

I glance at the steward, expecting him to announce someone else, but he says nothing. Returning my gaze to the balcony hallway, where the light is not as bright, I narrow my eyes and stare.

There. There it is again. Movement.

A slim form covered from head to toe with a dark cloak moves behind the steward. The person’s hood obscures any facial features, but the size and shape of the body makes me think there’s a woman hiding under all that fabric.

I watch, intrigued, as the figure hurries toward a door and slips through. I know exactly where that door leads—the royal gardens.

Corinna Blanchard forgotten for the moment, I absently set my mug of ale down on a table as I pass by, then go in search of the mysterious cloaked figure.