Page 35 of A Kiss of Flame
Music filled the vast chamber, marrying with delighted chatter and laughter. It was almost as if this was a perfectly normal thing, to be here, to dance, to celebrate…
Celebrate Elodie’s trial.
Oh nobody said it. How could they? But Wren couldn’t help thinking it. And every time she did the joy seeped out of her, leaving a seething mass of dark anger.
‘Princess?’ Olivier murmured, concerned. ‘Are you all right?’
He was kind, for all his austerity, she realised. He believed in duty and honour, but that didn’t make him cruel.
‘Just… just worried.’
‘Have no fear,’ he told her, slowing their pace. ‘Come, we can take refreshments and rest a while. Anselm will keep anyone untoward away.’
He glanced for his comrade and as their eyes met, Wren saw something flicker in his expression.
‘Have you known Anselm long?’ she asked, as guilelessly as she could.
Olivier led her from the dance floor, towards Anselm. ‘Since we were boys. We were squires together. When I first came to serve the Aurum, gave it my vows and surrendered my old life, he befriended me.’
‘And Finn?’
She shouldn’t keep asking people about him. She knew that. But she missed him and hearing the stories of his life here, his friendships, helped.
A smile flickered over Olivier’s lips. He knew where this was going then. She was not at all cunning, she knew that, and her need to know about the man she loved undermined any pretence at being clever or sophisticated. ‘Yes, Finnian as well. He is a credit to the Grandmaster. You have no idea how wild he was when he arrived here.’
Oh, she did. Not exactly perhaps, no details. But the wildness was not gone from Finn. It had been suppressed, and put to better use. She saw it every time, still buried deep in his tempestuous blue eyes. Great light, she missed him.
Anselm bowed as he approached and fetched her a glass of the sweet wine. Only accept a drink from him or Olivier, she had been told. No one else.
So many rules.
Someone cleared their throat behind her and she turned sharply to see the Earl of Sassone bearing down on her. It was far too late to run and she was standing there with his son and no excuse to be anywhere else.
‘Your highness,’ he beamed at her. ‘You look radiant. What a joy to see you here.’
The gown was the colour of rubies, and Wren wore a choker studded with them around her neck. A small posy of rosebuds had been tucked above her left ear and, after all the poking and prodding from the various ladies-in-waiting under Lynette’s supervision, she had finally been deemed presentable.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured and glanced at Anselm, but he stared ahead like a statue.
‘Hardly any trace of the forest left to you. The royal blood of Asteroth will always out, or so they say.’
That was what she was afraid of. But all the same, she lifted her chin and gave him a defiant look.
‘And have you spilled a lot of it?’ she asked.
Someone choked on a laugh, Anselm she suspected, but he didn’t show it when both Wren and his father glared at him.
Sassone smiled at her, a thin, hard expression she really didn’t like. It was too calculating. ‘You have your mother’s wit,’ he replied. ‘Although she cannot be expected to use it much longer. I suppose you will learn to quell it more cleverly when the crown is yours.’
Wren drew in a breath and felt the shadows in the back of her mind stir with amusement. The sound of the whispers they brought with them almost drowned out the music. Othertongue lingered at the back of her throat but she swallowed it down.
‘I’m not planning on wearing a crown,’ she told him.
Sassone roared out a laugh, ignoring all the faces turning to look at them, and Wren felt her face flush. ‘No choice in that matter, your highness. Sooner or later. Sooner, I’m sure. It’ll all be decided in no time. The guilt of your mother is beyond doubt. Rest assured, it is only a matter of time until that crown sits firmly on your pretty head.’
Did he hear himself? How could he talk to her like that?
The whispers were getting louder, the shadows singing to her. How easy it would be to shut him up, and shut him up for good. No one should speak to her like that. No one.
