Chapter One
King Alastair wears a lazy grin as he rests his cheek on his fist. “And so you wish to see the girl dance?” Eri’s eyes darken as he smiles. “If His Majesty would allow.” The king laughs. “I do so love it when she does.” He looks over to the King of Erandor, Erasmus, perched on a golden throne to his right, and then to the King of Anatolé, Yarum, who is slumped unenthusiastically in his throne to King Alastair’s left. “What do my fellow kings think, hm?” King Yarum speaks first. “I say do as you please, Alastair. It is your hall after all.” King Erasmus nods in agreement. “We are not so ill-mannered to refuse any treats your gracious kingdom may offer us.” King Alastair smiles with approval. “Very well, then.” His eyes glide to mine as he commands, “Entertain us, girl.” The warning resting behind his gaze screams in the place of silence. Do not embarrass me. If you do, I’ll make you wish you hadn’t. I have been defiled and belittled in many ways, but there is something about this particular moment that pricks my skin and causes me to boil deep in the pit of my stomach. The king has commanded it, and so now I have lost, and Eri has truly won. And I am so gods-damn tired of losing. Yet what can I do? After what happened with my mother, I am blood-sworn to the king, forced to serve him no matter how unnerved and tiny his demands make me feel. If I want to survive, I have no other choice but to obey. No matter how much I want to rebel. Words my mother once spoke to me echo through my bones. They can take, and take, but the one thing they can never take from you is your reaction to things. I steel my features and force myself to swallow the stinging bitterness, accepting the cruel truth. Nothing will change this. No one is coming to my aid, and there is no room for negotiation. Honestly, if it wasn’t so demoralizing, I may have just laughed at the poetic irony of it all. For it always seems to come back to the eyes of men, expecting everything while offering nothing in return. I glance at the king, clamping down on my jaw. His lips curl with a delighted grin as he waves a lazy hand at the instrumentalists, instructing them to resume playing. They obey, their fingers plucking their harmonic strings, filling the air with a haunting rhythm, cementing my damnation in a deceptive mask of beauty. I resign myself to my fate and let muscle memory take over, my hips swaying as my arms move in tune to the music. As I begin to dance, I glimpse the many heavy-lidded, drunken eyes—hungry and ready to devour. Fighting a disgusted sneer, I reach back and fiddle with the clasp of my top. Yet right as my breasts threaten exposure, a loud crack splits the air, and a cloud of total darkness clots at the glass roof. Around the banquet tables, goblets tumble, spilling liquids across the floor and in laps. All the braziers, lanterns, and candles are snuffed out, leaving the now-dark room covered in a blanket of silence. And that sound… The strange darkness… It’s the result of someone’s magic, and unauthorized magic in the Great Hall, especially while the king is hosting, is an offense worthy of death. Who would be so bold not only to commit such an outrageous act in the presence of the king, but in the presence of all three kings. And why? King Alastair’s voice booms, anger lacing through his words. “Terian, dispel this magic at once. Fire-wielders, reignite the braziers and the candles.” Light slowly returns to the room as Terian works, and the braziers flicker back into existence. Leaning against a pillar and flicking a finger in the direction of the oil lamps—tiny fires awakening within the glass when he does—stands a man with ruby-red hair. I catch his eye, and his head cocks ever-so-slightly to the side, an inscrutable smile tugging at the corner of his lips. My brows twitch as I study the man. I’ve never entertained him, nor do I recognize him, so why is he looking at me like that? Not with lust or desire, but…intrigue, perhaps? I follow his wandering gaze to the exposed midnight sky above, the inky cloud now receded into nothing more than a ghostly vapor. As I stare, I feel a gentle touch glide down my cheek, lingering no more than a second or two. Normally, I would jump at the unexpected touch. Yet, for some reason, there is something disarming about it. Confused, I glance around the room, noting those within stepping distance. Finding nothing unusual, my eyes return to the pillar where the red-headed man stood, but he is already gone. Interesting. After a few seconds, the darkness vanishes completely, and an errand boy runs in. He takes a winded bow. “Your Majesty.” “What is it?” King Alastair’s voice is anything but patient. “It is the stables, sir. We think an oil lamp was accidentally knocked over. They are…” He gulps. “Well, the stables are on fire.” King Alastair’s stony expression is as unnerving as it is unreadable. “Then take all those in the hall who wield water magic and be done with it.” The errand boy nods before bowing. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He makes for the exit. “And boy,” The King calls out, his tone wrapped in ice. The boy stiffens before turning and again bowing at the waist. “Your Majesty?” “Tell the stablemaster to expect a summons from me later.” The words deflate my heart and heat my blood simultaneously. I clench my teeth and ball my hands tightly, reminding myself again and again I can not speak out of turn. I am all too aware of what a summons from the king means, and the stablemaster is a kind man who truly loves the horses he cares for. He will not deserve whatever cruel punishment the king will bestow upon him for this interruption. The boy inclines his head, acknowledging King Alastair’s request, and shuffles out of the hall with the grumbling water-wielders. Eri returns his attention to me. “Well? What are you waiting for? Don’t just stand there. Dance for us as your king commanded.” I open my mouth to speak, but King Yarum’s voice fills the room, his Anatolian accent heavy on his tongue. “I extend my apologies, Lieutenant Commander Valenwood, but I’ve decided I want the girl to attend to only me for the rest of the evening.” He turns to the King of Rivara. “Would you deny me that privilege, Alastair?” King Alastair snorts a dry laugh. “I certainly would not.” He pauses, a wry smirk twisting his features. “Though I must admit, I find myself surprised by your request. You aren’t usually one to indulge in such things.” King Yarum huffs a hollow laugh, and he musters a smile I notice does not reach his eyes. “Consider me particularly captivated by your attendant.” King Alastair smiles, pleased. “Most are.” Ignoring him, the King of Anatolé directs his attention to me. “Come here, girl. I should like you by my side for the rest of the evening.” Slightly baffled but unwilling to waste the chance to escape Eri, I shoot him a pointed look then race up the dais as gracefully as possible. I stand just behind King Yarum’s throne, stepping beside him when he motions for me.
