“I’m sure she was a good woman. Now, I’ve got a wedding to get back to. Why don’t you come with me?”
Nothing would piss off Archduke Levanter more than me crashing his wedding and making a beeline for Aubrey. It’s the least auspicious start I could probably make to a future with his daughter. “Sure, but I don’t scrub up much better than this, sir. If you’re fine with that, then I’ll come.”
“More than fine, Bellerose. I’ll wait here.” King Anson walks closer to Onyx. I head toward the house, and when I look back, he’s stroking the black horse’s velvet nose.
Upstairs in my room, I take a quick shower, and then fling open my wardrobe and regard my clothes. I don’t own a suit. I don’t own anything that won’t have every guest at the wedding wrinkling their noses at my inappropriate clothes and unshaven face. I decide on a stone colored button-down shirt, black jeans and desert boots that aren’t too muddy. Aubrey won’t care that I’m not in a suit, and she’s the only one who matters.
My insides are buzzing. This morning, I woke up with nothing. I might end the day with a fiancée and a business partner.
Aubrey as my wife.
Motherfucker. Panic flashes through me. I don’t know how to have a wife. How do I make a wife happy? A posh wife who’s used to servants and expensive dresses, not bills and worries over whether the fencing in the south paddock needs fixing and if we have enough hay to get through the winter. What if she laughs in my face when I ask her to marry me? The life I can give her is nothing compared to what she knows.
I scrape my fingers through my damp hair, check my reflection in the mirror, and then head down to where the King’s car is waiting. I guess I’m about to find out.
The King is already in the back seat of the huge, shiny car, and one of the guards holds the door open for me as I clamber in.
Sitting on the soft leather seat as we drive toward the palace, I’m conscious that the King is in a spotless suit and I look like I’ve stumbled out of bed and thrown on any old thing. I grimace apologetically at the wrinkles in my pants. “Sorry, sir. It’s all I have.”
“I’m sure it will be enough for Lady Aubrey,” he replies.
I hope so, but I suddenly wish I wasn’t going to this damn wedding. Can’t I just push Lady Aubrey up against a wall and say, Look, you’re going to marry me, so let’s get the fuck out of here?
Maybe I will if it all goes to hell. Let’s call that Plan B.
I lag behind when we pull up at the palace, giving the King the chance to enter the reception ahead of me, but he claps me on the shoulder and steers me through the double doors at his side. Upon our entrance, everyone in the room stops talking. Stops dancing. Stops moving all together. Their gaze is on their King.
And then me at his side.
Some people frown. Several gasp. The whisper ricochets around the room. Lungren. A moment later, they’re bowing to their King. It’s not for me, but in that moment, I feel the full force of several hundred people’s admiration and obedience. It washes over me in a great wave, and I think I finally understand why some people will steal, lie, cut throats and start wars in order to take their chance at this sort of power.
Everyone around us is dressed in fine clothes and sparkling with jewels. Overhead, chandeliers blaze with golden light and painted ceilings go up and up.
So, this is what the Court of Paravel is all about.
The crowd raises their heads and stares at me, confusion and distrust on their faces. I’m close to turning on my heel and walking out, when I see her. The most beautiful, talented and dirty-mouthed woman in the room, staring back at me with surprise and delight beaming from her face.
I push through the crowd toward her, my eyes never leaving hers.
“Cassian,” she whispers, when I reach her, her expression filled with wonder. “You came.”
I open my mouth to speak without knowing what I’m going to say. “I thought…you could teach me to dance.”
She takes my hand and leads me to the dancefloor. My hand finds the small of her back. Drawing her against me feels like the most natural thing in the world. She slips her hand into mine, as the music resumes, and everyone around us starts moving and talking again.
“I’m so happy you’re here.”
“You won’t think that in a moment when I step on your toes.”
Aubrey laughs and starts murmuring the steps to me. If this were a fairy tale, we’d move perfectly around the dancefloor together, but it’s not, so my boot slams onto her foot. She gasps in pain and hobbles to a halt.