Layle

“Tiernan Northgard?” Sorel cries out on a choked laugh. “You’d sooner land a dragon!”

Alin’s cheeks turn a bright pink, and she bows her blond head for just a moment.

“The only woman Tiernan has ever had eyes for is Princess Layle,” Sorel continues, startling me.

My head swings in Sorel’s direction, my eyes wide with surprise. Does Tiernan have feelings for me? I doubt that. He’s more interested in irritating me than anything else, but I don’t want to mention that to these ladies. I need to change the subject, and talking about magical beasts is one of my favorite topics.

“But a dragon hasn’t been seen anywhere near the city in more than a hundred years,” I point out.

Marren grins. “That’s the point.”

Alin catches on and sends a glower at Marren, who only laughs. “Well, it’s the truth,” Marren says. “And you know it.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, still holding tightly to the arms of my chair. The makeover has stopped as the women gear up for their favorite pastime—gossiping.

“Who are you to say I won’t be able to catch Tiernan’s eye?” Alin stands and walks over to the table where a pitcher of cool water sits next to several glasses. Pouring herself a glass, she takes a sip.

“Our gazes have met from across the room several times in past Seasons,” Alin continues.

Sorel shakes her head in mock sympathy. “The general looks everyone in the eye, Alin. That’s part of his military experience.”

Alin huffs and stares into her water glass moodily. I feel bad for her all of a second, then that stupid jealousy rears its ugly head again. I have no reason to feel jealous, I try to remind myself, but my feelings don’t want to listen.

“Alin, how many times have we talked about how Tiernan watches Princess Layle whenever they’re in the same room?” Marren says. “You’ve even commented on it in the past. We all know she is the one he wants.”

I’m shaking my head before Marren is through talking. “You’ve got it wrong. Tiernan and I hate each other. We only play nice because of our families and social duties. There’s no way he’s interested in wedding me.”

My cheeks heat with guilty color. Tiernan did propose to me, but I can’t tell the ladies that. Then I’d have to explain why, and why I said no. I don’t want anyone to know the ultimatum Father placed on my shoulders. I need to present a strong front and not make people think there’s weakness in the kingdom.

Although, truthfully, these ladies, and everyone else, probably wouldn’t give it another thought. It was the way of women’s lives to find the right husband. Peasant or royalty, it didn’t matter. This was a man’s world, and a woman had to align herself with the right family and husband.

For some, it is a matter of survival. For me, it is an unwelcome duty.

Sorel looks at me as if I’d suddenly sprouted horns on my head. Her mouth drops open, then she closes it and shakes her head.

“We all know that there’s some kind of feud between the Moorgraves and Northgards,” Sorel says matter-of-factly. “It’s been that way for generations, although I doubt there’s many who still know the original reason.” She pins me with a look as her head tilts to the side curiously. “Do you?”

I’ve wondered the same thing, but whenever I ask Father why he hates the Northgards so much, he changes the subject. I found it odd that, even though they didn’t like each other, Cillian Northgard, Tiernan’s father, was still commander of the army meant to protect the realm—and the king.

I shake my head. “No idea, really. I’m not much into the intrigue of ages-old feuds.”

Sorel slumps, defeated. It’s obvious she hoped to get some juicy gossip. Just as quickly, though, she perks up and smiles at me.

“Well, that doesn’t seem to bother Tiernan either.” Sorel waggles her eyes at me. “Anyone with eyes can see how he looks at you.”

“It’s true,” Marren chimes in. “I bet if you asked him to get married, he’d say yes.”

“Marren!” Alin gasps in outrage. “The princess would never have to ask any man to marry her. Besides, it’s unseemly. She’d be the talk of court for years!”

Marren shrugs her shoulders. “I was just saying. . . ”

“Well, that’s never going to happen,” I interject. “Tiernan Northgard is the last man I would give my hand to.”

“Oh?” Sorel beams. “Do you have someone else in mind?”

“Yes, who will be the lucky man to marry you and become king one day?” Marren asks.

I stiffen, realizing I’m backing myself into a corner. “I haven’t decided yet,” I finally say.

“Well, I guess you have some time,” Sorel continues with a smile. “It’s only the first day of Season, after all.”

My response, whatever it was going to be, is cut off as the door to the bathhouse crashes open and Tiernan comes stumbling inside.

Feminine shrieks fill the small room as he rights himself. What in the gods’ names is he doing? I stare at him in open-mouth shock as his ice-blue eyes dart around the room. A dull blush rises from his throat and rests on his high cheekbones.

“Tiernan Northgard,” I snap, appalled. Getting up from my chair, I walk over to him, my skirts swishing across the floor. “What are you doing in here?”

“I—”

I don’t give him a chance to finish whatever he was going to say. Cocking my hip to the side and planting my hand at my waist, I glare at him. “You do realize this is the ladies’ bathhouse, right?”

He casts a quick glance around the room and then raises a dark eyebrow. “Obviously.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

That dark flush spreads across his face again—I don’t think he planned on coming inside. He looks. . . embarrassed.

“It’s a good view,” Tiernan says with a grin. A few sighs float around the bathhouse, and it’s all I can do not to roll my eyes at the women so in awe of Tiernan Northgard.

With an irritated shake of my head, I grab his shoulder and turn him around then nudge him outside of the bathhouse with my hands firmly on his broad back.

“Seriously, Tiernan, I thought you had better manners than that,” I hiss at him. I don’t want the ladies inside the bathhouse to hear, so I keep my voice lowered.

He stiffens as if offended. “It was not a deliberate invasion,” he says stiffly. “I was walking by and heard my name, so I leaned closer to the door to hear what kind of silly gossip you ladies were spreading. The door must not have been pulled completely shut because it suddenly opened on me.”

I cross my arms beneath my chest, not missing the way his gaze dips briefly to my cleavage before snapping up to my face. My skin tingles where his eyes had touched, and warmth spreads throughout my body.

Shifting slightly, uncomfortable with the way my body reacts to his look, I try to keep my voice level as I continue chastising him.

“So you were spying? And that is better than just barging in on us?”

His eye twitches, and a muscle ticks in his jaw. But just as quickly as the irritation begins, it vanishes and he flashes me one of his brilliant smiles.

“Why are you protesting so much over an accident?” he counters. “Are you embarrassed at being caught gossiping about me?”

“I wasn’t gossiping about you,” I reply with a lift of my chin. “If you must know, I was telling them how we were not suited for each other at all.”

He raises an amused eyebrow. “Yes, I heard. ‘Tiernan Northgard is the last man I would give my hand to.’”

Out of reflex I jerk my hand up, fully intent on slapping him across his face. I want to wipe that smug expression away. How dare he blatantly quote what I said in privacy with the ladies!

Unfortunately, Tiernan’s reflexes are quicker than a cat’s. He catches my wrist before even a finger can land on his face, then he grins and brings my hand down, kissing the back of my knuckles.

Our eyes meet and hold, mine angry and surprised while Tiernan looks at me with amusement. I open my mouth, ready to provide a scathing retort, but a blond-haired gentleman beats me to it.

“Hear now, My Lord. Stop bothering the princess.”

Tiernan is still holding my hand when I glance over to the gentleman walking toward us. Jensen Bigby. I met him earlier, though only briefly.

“My apologies,” Tiernan says and bows over my hand, giving it a little squeeze before releasing his hold. “I will take my leave now so you can return to your ladies, Your Highness.”

I watch, partly irritated and somewhat mesmerized as Tiernan turns on his booted heel and walks away. His graceful exit only infuriates me more.

But I don’t have time to contemplate his actions as Lord Bigby reaches me. Forcing my irritation down, I plaster a smile on my face and turn to the gentleman. Better I focus on him than Tiernan.