Veronica

“Remember, always use the fork that’s farthest away from your plate. Don’t partake in the fish, even if they offer them in the hors d’oeuvres. Always let the men win if they proposition you for a friendly game of croquet.”

Marchioness Gorley frowned at me. “Are you listening to me, dear?”

I offered her a fake smile and said, “Yes, of course.”

Even though what I really wanted to say was, How dare you presume to lecture me in my own carriage, when I was the one who graciously shared my carriage with you? Marchioness Gorley was a penniless noble with little to her name but her title and her good manners—and her condescending attitude, of course.

Now that my parents were nearing retirement age, they’d left our family’s thriving merchant family in my hands. In fact, I was taking one of the De Vernsey carriages to Helmhold as an emissary for our family right this very minute, although schmoozing with royals and pretending to laugh at their boring jokes was not my idea of a good time.

King Cyrus II was opening his grand halls to bring all the rich families under his roof in order to get them on board with his latest war effort—his third in as many years. The king was running low on funds, and he needed the merchants’ coffers to continue his campaign to expand into our neighboring states.

The De Vernseys, being one of the richest merchants in his realm, were one of the first ones on the list. And I, being the heir to the De Vernsey wealth, was more than happy to oblige.

Or, I was happy to oblige, until I’d made the terrible mistake of letting Marchioness Gorley come along for the ride.

She kept prattling around, running me through the dos and don’ts of how to be a good guest at Helmhold, but I was barely listening. Instead, I was thinking about my own goals for this visit. The marchioness would probably need smelling salts if she could read my mind right now…

King Cyrus was holding something very interesting at Helmhold. Something that used to belong to my family…

When the carriage finally screeched to a stop at the castle gates, I was flabbergasted by the egregious display of wealth and beauty. Gold, gold, as far as the eye could see. Even some of the statues lining the carriage drive were plastered in gold. The gates shuddered open, and my carriage trundled along a veritable forest of neatly groomed topiaries.

The topiaries were all painstakingly shorn into gamboling exotic animals—a giraffe, an elephant, even a lion with sharp twigs for its huge fangs. When the driver pulled into the main courtyard and hopped down to help us ladies out of the carriage—Because womenfolk are so fragile they couldn’t even leave a stupid hackney on their own, I thought with an annoyed eye roll—I was struck dumb by the majesty of Helmhold. The flagstones were shining. Everything the sun touched seemed to glisten, as if the palace itself was cut from a giant gemstone. Stained glass windows stared down at us from every window—no doubt an exorbitant expense. Not even the Church could afford such a luxury.

The valets of Helmhold were equally well dressed as the castle. Each servant was decked out in the king’s colors, with identical neat waistcoats and tight-fitting pants.

Why do they need merchants to fund the war effort at all? I thought bitterly. If the royal family spent a little less money on pomp and circumstance, they’d surely be able to afford not to burden their loyal citizens with the costs of war.

It was just like them. My family had worked hard for our money. Endless sleepless nights, moments where we weren’t sure where our next meal was going to be coming from, sacrifices upon sacrifices had led us to become one of the richest families on the continent.

But the royals…they thought it was perfectly fine to make regular people bear the cost of their whims. This war wasn’t necessary. It was just another way for King Cyrus to put his name in the history books.

Funny how those whims never seemed to make their way back to the people who had made it all possible. No, the merchants and the peasants got poorer and poorer, while the royals—they stayed where they always were. At the very top of the food chain.

Speaking of—there was a place I’d always wanted to see with my own eyes. I made my excuses to the marchioness, who seemed more than glad to be rid of me. I slipped away from the main crowd of people coming and going and took myself on a little impromptu tour of the grounds.

Halfway down the path toward the main gardens was a small track. It was too small for horse races and too large for human ones. With a start, I realized with a curl of disgust what this was used for.

Dog races.

The track was ugly. The fence was made out of rickety wood that would look more at home at a woodcutter’s house than the king’s castle. The track was dusty, unkempt, and dirty. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from it.

My fingers dug into the wooden fence that separated me from the track. This shouldn’t be here.

My thoughts were interrupted by strange whining noises. I glanced backward to make sure no one was watching, then slipped in between the large cracks of the wooden slats. Then I paused, listening for the sound again.

There. Directly to my right—

But when I turned around, I ended up nearly running over a burly man with a grizzled beard. His face was tanned from decades in the sun, and his rough cloak was discolored from mud and grass stains.

The groundskeeper, no doubt.

“Where ya goin’, madame?” he said, his voice just as gruff as his clothes.

“Oh—I thought I heard something,” I said, pointing toward the direction of the whimpers.

“Ya mean those noises yer hearin’? Don’t worry yer head ’bout it, my lady. Them whimpering just comin’ from the dog shed.”

“The dog shed?”

“We gots ta keep the dogs that run out here somewhere.”

“But—” I frowned. That seemed almost worse somehow. That whimpering sounded so desperate, as if whoever or whatever was making it was in pain.

But the groundskeeper shook his head. “Please, milady, the dogs receive good treatment here. They’re well fed ’n happy. They like to run. The lil beasts are born for it.” Then his expression grew suddenly serious. “But you must go now. Prince Bennett doesn’t like his guests hangin’ ’round the track when there ain’t no bets to be made.”

“Oh, he doesn’t, does he?” A part of me wanted to stay just to annoy this Prince Bennett, but I thought of my parents back home. They were trusting me to keep the family fortune going. How disappointed would they be if I got kicked out of the castle for pissing off the royals in my first hour here?

So when the groundskeeper glared and crossed his arms in front of his chest, clearly running out of patients for my stubborn shenanigans, I decided the right thing to do was leave. I ducked under the fence, only getting a little mud on my clothes, and made my way back down the flowered path. I was so busy trying to pick off some of the flakes of dirt from my sleeve as I made my way back to the castle that I almost knocked over a man who happened to come down the trail at the same time.

Judging from his clothes—a relaxed white linen shirt, slim-fitting pants, no coat or suit jacket to speak of—he must have been a valet who had misplaced his waistcoat. No self-respecting noble, royal, or wealthy merchant would dare saunter around the grounds in such a state.

The marchioness’s strict warnings from the carriage drifted dimly back to mind: Do request a fire be stoked every night, but mind you do not stoke the fires of passion with members of the lower classes. She’d sniffed in the middle, as if she personally couldn’t deign to even entertain such a notion. As if her loins had never been stirred by a man who held a rank lower than the title of baron.

Even visiting merchants shouldn’t lower themselves beneath their already lowly stations, she’d sniffed.

I’d been offended then. In fact, I’d had half a mind to tell her to get out of this lowly merchant’s carriage and walk the rest of the way.

Instead, I forced myself to be satisfied with ignoring all of her carefully tailored advice. I was definitely going to let this man stoke “the fires of my passion.”

Because this man was the most beautiful human being I had ever seen.