“I’m not an idiot, Marisol, I know how to dance.”
She purses her lips—her favorite thing to do these days—and places a hand on her hip. “This will be your first dance with His Majesty.”
Walking to the edge of the ballroom, I grab a glass of water and sip from it, wishing this dreadful “class” would be over with. I’ve been taking dancing lessons since I was a small child. I know what to do.
“It’s just awkward when your partner is another woman, that’s all.” I lift my shoulders.
She huffs. “Milady, I’m just trying to keep you from embarrassing yourself and the king.”
My eyes narrow, her thinly veiled insult sliding across my skin like needles. “No, of course we wouldn’t want to do that.”
She steps over to the cylinder phonogram, its large bell end sticking out like a brass instrument and moves the narrow edge down until music plays. Breathing in deep, I crack my neck just as the door to the ballroom on the far side of the eastern wall opens.
“Did I miss anything fun?” Sheina’s voice flows across the room, and I spin, a smile breaking across my face.
“Sheina! Where have you been? I’ve missed you.” I throw out my arms and drag her into a hug, my chest warming as I do.
“I’m dreadful for disappearing, aren’t I?” She tightens her hold on me. “I have so much to tell you,” she whispers in my ear.
Nodding, I break our hug, my hands trailing down her arms until I can squeeze her fingers with mine. Curiosity prods at the corners of my mind, wondering what it is she has to say, and where it is she’s been.
“Anything I can help with?” she asks, glancing around.
“Not unless you can find me a better dancer.” I turn to Marisol, scrunching my nose. “No offense.”
Marisol sighs, her blonde brows furrowing. “This is pointless.”
A laugh escapes me. “Oh, come on, Marisol. Lighten up!” I walk toward her, reaching out and gripping her shoulder. “Everything will be just fine. You’re doing an incredible job managing everything, and I’m sorry I’m making things difficult for you. But I do know how to dance, I promise.”
Her eyes soften, the corner of her lips tilting up and she nods, exhaling a heavy breath. “I’m sorry for being so… well, you know.” She shrugs. “Planning a ball is a lot of pressure.”
I smile. “Which is why I tasked you with the responsibility. I know you can handle it better than anyone else.”
Her features lighten as she nods.
“Why don’t you go take a break and allow Sheina and I to catch up.” I squeeze her shoulder, hoping that she won’t argue with me. I know she doesn’t wish to be here anymore than I do.
“Thank you, milady.” She curtsies before she walks across the polished ballroom floor, disappearing into the castle halls.
It isn’t until the door shuts behind her, echoing off the arched ceiling and stone pillars, that I drop my shoulders and relax, turning to look at my closest friend. The one who’s felt like a stranger since arriving here.
A smile breaks across my face and she mirrors it, both of us bursting into giggles.
“I don’t think she likes me,” I say through the laughter.
Sheina’s blue eyes sparkle. “I don’t think she likes anyone.”
My hands rest on my hips, my head cocking to the side. “I’m pretty confident she likes my soon-to-be husband fairly well.”
Her brows shoot to her hairline. “No, do you think? Is she one of his mistresses?”
I lift a shoulder. “Who’s to say? I’m sure he has several. For all I know, you could be one.”
She shoves at my shoulder. “Please, Sara. Be realistic.”
“Well, what do I know? I brought you along to be my lady-in-waiting, and yet you’ve been like one of the ghosts you claim haunt the castle.”
Her smile drops, fingers tangling in front of her. “I’m sorry, don’t be mad. I just…” Looking to the side, her cheeks grow rosy.
My chest pulls tight. “What is it?”
“I’ve met someone,” she whispers. “He’s a general in the king’s military and he’s… everything.”
My eyes widen, surprise dropping like a lead weight in my gut. “Already?”
“He’s very handsome. And very good at… other things.” The pink on her cheeks turns splotchy.
I lift my brows, unable to stop the grin from spreading across my cheeks. “And you call me the wicked girl.”
Her hands shoot up to cover her face and she groans into them. “I’m foolish.” Looking up, she reaches out to grab my palm with hers. “But I won’t disappear on you again. I’m sorry I did.”
The middle of my stomach burns in warning, just like it always does when my intuition is pricking at me, screaming to pay attention. “Well, do I get to meet the mystery man?”
Her features stiffen, and the change in her energy spikes through me like an arrow.
Something is off.
“I’d love that,” she says.
But her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
“I want to go back to the queen’s garden. Will you remind me how to get there?”
I peer up at Timothy from behind the top of my poetry book. He sits in the chaise by the fireplace in my sitting room, his body the most relaxed I’ve seen. Ever since he was forced to speak to me in the forest, he’s loosened up, and as long as we’re in my private quarters—which he actually steps into now as long as other people are present—he graces me with his beautiful voice.
Turns out, he’s not such a dead fish after all.
“Why?” he questions.
My brows rise and I set down my book. “Well, I’d rather leave the castle entirely, but I’m sure you won’t allow that, since apparently becoming engaged is akin to regressing into an adolescent who needs a nanny.”
His forehead scrunches. “Are you calling me your nanny?”
I shrug. “What else would you call it?”
He purses his lips. “I requested to be your guard.”
“You did?” My stomach flips. “I don’t know if I should be offended you think I need one or honored that it’s you.”
He tilts his head. “You’re going to be the queen. If anyone needs protection, milady, it’s you.”
The way he says it sends a chill racing down my spine, as if he knows something—something that he isn’t letting on.
“From whom?” I prod.
His eyes move from where they were settled on me to Ophelia, who is peeking at us from over her needlework. When I twist to face her, she drops her eyes back down, pretending as though she isn’t paying us any mind.
“Never mind,” I say, standing up. “If you don’t know how to get to the garden, just say that.”
He scoffs, rising from his seat. “I know every corridor in this castle.”
“Oh?” My brows rise. “All of them?”
Anticipation lights up my insides. “Ophelia, we’re going for a walk. Would you like to come?” I ask to be polite, but everything within me is hoping she says no.
“No, milady, Marisol is supposed to meet here to go over the dinner menu for the ball.”
I crinkle my nose. “That sounds awful.”
She smiles. “That’s why you’re having us do it instead.”
Walking over to Timothy, I link my arm in his. His jaw tics as he stares at where we’re connected, and I grin up at him, moving us toward the door. The second it opens, he drops my arm, adopting a glacial look; the man from moments earlier disappearing into the air.
I’m silent the entire way, memorizing our steps so I can sneak away and come back alone, but once we’re at the garden’s door, I spin around, pointing my finger at his chest. “You said you know every corridor.”
“I do.”
“Even the hidden ones?”
His dark eyes peer down at me as if he’s deliberating on how to answer, and that alone is enough to send excitement sparking through my insides. He knows what I’m talking about.
“Will you show me?” I press.
He’s silent for long, strained moments, the muscle in his jaw tensing over and over. Finally, he nods.
A smile creeps on my face, satisfaction worming its way through my veins.
He reaches to his side, placing his hand on a wall sconce. I watch his movements, fascinated, my heart pumping in my ears.
I wonder if when I look back, I’ll think of this moment as the one where I realized everything hides in plain sight. Because the wall I was just staring at disappears, revealing a dark and narrow passage in its place.
