Before I could contemplate the dangerous implications of my unique inheritance, the Marquess and Alaric appeared in the hallway. Alaric's face was stormy as he passed us without acknowledgment, prompting a rebuke from the Marquess.
"Alaric Kildare, have you forgotten your etiquette?" the Marquess' voice boomed down the hall.
Alaric halted, "I have not, father," he retorted, his displeasure barely contained. "But I am only to acknowledge the heir when they have been officially named as such. Until then she is beneath me." He turned sharply, his cloak billowing as he departed.
My gaze lingered on the Marquess, noticing the fearsome anger contorting his features for the first time. The sight sent shivers skittering down my spine. Sensing my trepidation, the Marquess attempted to regain his composure, addressing me softer.
"I must talk with the King over some important matters, and it will take some time."
He signaled to a knight standing nearby. "Escort Lady Kildare to the carriage."
"Grandfather," I blurted, desperation lacing my voice, "the King said I could explore since it's my first visit. Please allow me to wait and return with you."
My affectionate plea seemed to reach him; his stern expression melted into a small, indulgent smile. He conceded and nodded to the knight. "Show my granddaughter around while I speak with the king."
"Of course, my lordship." The knight bowed deeply and introduced himself. "I am Sir Thaddeus. Where would you like to go first, my lady?"
"Let's start with the library," I decided.
My heels clicked on the polished marble floor as Eamon and I trailed behind the knight. We entered a vast chamber where the scent of aged parchment and leather-bound volumes filled the air like an ancient perfume.
“Five libraries grace the palace grounds,” the knight intoned, his voice carrying a practiced authority as it echoed faintly off the stone walls. “This one,” he continued, gesturing expansively, “is dedicated to all matters of state.”
I glanced at the endless rows of books, their gilt titles winking mockingly in the soft light. My heart sank. I had hoped for mysteries, esoteric secrets, perhaps a grimoire or two—not the dry annals of bureaucratic drudgery.
“And the contents of the other four?” I asked, my tone betraying a trace of disappointment.
“Ah, I am not well-acquainted, my lady,” the knight admitted with a slight bow of his head. “My duties rarely permit time for leisurely study. I shall summon a librarian to answer your questions.” Without another word, he strode off, leaving us amid the silent giants of parchment and leather.
“Well done, Luci,” Eamon murmured once the knight was out of earshot, his smirk audible even before I turned to see it.
“Silence, Eamon,” I shot back, though the corners of my mouth betrayed me with a twitch of amusement. “An heir seeking knowledge of her realm is hardly scandalous. I merely wish to prepare for my role.”
“Of course,” he said, the teasing lilt in his voice unmistakable. “Not at all suspicious for the kingdom’s prodigal daughter to suddenly want a crash course in Aurorean archives.”
Before I could formulate a witty retort, the knight returned, accompanied by a figure who could only be described as peculiar. The librarian, a tall and impossibly thin man, wore a mismatched ensemble of tweed and velvet that hung on him like drapes on a particularly angular scarecrow. His hawkish nose, sharp and beak-like, seemed made for peering down at others, and his spectacles perched precariously at its bridge, threatening to slide off with every movement.
“This is Librarian Gideon Fenwick,” the knight introduced him with a crisp nod.
“Enchanted,” Gideon replied, his voice trembling with barely contained enthusiasm. “Ah, the repositories of refined intellect!” He gestured dramatically to the shelves around us. “Each one a bastion of curated wisdom!”
Eamon caught my eye, his expression a perfect mirror of my own silent plea for brevity. Gideon, however, seemed determined to exhaust every word in his vocabulary, launching into a spirited monologue about the historical significance of the palace’s cataloging system.
As he led us deeper into the labyrinth of shelves, his voice droned on in an unbroken stream. “While each spine here tells a tale,” he said, his tone reverent, “it is the silence between the pages that speaks the loudest.”
When he paused for breath, I seized the moment like a drowning woman clutching a lifeline. “Might we abbreviate this history lesson? My grandfather’s meeting with the King will conclude soon.”
Gideon’s eyes dimmed slightly, his mouth forming a disappointed ‘o,’ but he recovered quickly, nodding briskly. “Of course, Lady Kildare. My apologies for the... detailed introduction.”
“Think nothing of it,” Eamon interjected smoothly, his voice as rich and warm as honeyed wine. “My lady simply wishes to gain a broad understanding during her first visit. No doubt we will call upon your vast expertise again soon.”
I was not surprised that Gideon blushed at Eamon's words.
Buoyed by the promise of future audiences, Gideon launched into a more concise summary. “The secondary library within the main palace houses the latest literary works, biographies, and royal commissions. The other three libraries are in the Queen’s and the Princes’ residences. The Queen’s library focuses on treatises of etiquette, volumes on fashion, and texts on courtly politics.”
“How thrilling,” I deadpanned, storing the information like weapons in an arsenal.
“The Crown Prince’s library,” Gideon continued, “is an extension of the main palace, containing books reserved exclusively for the future king. And as for the second prince’s—”
“I wasn’t aware there was a scheduled tour for today.”
The voice cut through the air like a blade, smooth yet piercing. Instantly, the knight, librarian, and even Eamon executed synchronized bows that hinted at rehearsed precision.
“Greetings, Your Highness,” they chorused.
I turned, my face carefully composed, though my heart raced as I met the man’s gaze. Dressed in deep purple and gold, his dark brown hair fell in artful disarray, and light brown eyes gleamed with sharp intelligence and a glint of mischief. His physique was enough to make saints falter, but it was the sharp curl of his lips that gave him an edge of arrogance.
Prince Leandro.
“Your Highness,” I said, dipping into a curtsy as reflexively as drawing a breath.
“Ah,” he drawled, his smirk deepening. “The usurper graces us with her presence.”
The barb stung, and my retort leapt to my lips without hesitation. “One cannot usurp what was never possessed by another.”
A pause fell, thick with tension and unsaid words, as the knight, librarian, and Eamon gaped at my boldness. Even the shadows in the corners of the room seemed to lean in, whispering of the brewing storm.
Prince Leandro’s smile remained fixed in place.
“You bear little resemblance to your mother,” he observed, stepping closer, his presence encroaching on my space.
My heart stuttered, caught between irritation and curiosity. “You knew her?” The question slipped out before I could rein it in, exposing more interest than I intended.
“Not personally,” Leandro replied with an air of feigned modesty. “I’ve only seen her portrait in the Crown Prince’s chambers. I was merely a babe when she... departed for Nimrea.”
The insinuation in his tone tightened my jaw, but I forced myself to remain composed. He leaned closer, too close, and gently took my chin between his thumb and forefinger. From the corner of my eye I saw Eamon jerk forward briefly before his self-restraint stopped him. His fists clenched tightly at his sides.
“However,” he murmured, his hazel eyes boring into mine, “to doubt your lineage after gazing into these emerald eyes would be madness—or the act of one bereft of heart for family lost.”
The dig at Alaric was not lost on me, and though I might have appreciated the barb under different circumstances, his proximity grated. I wanted to swat his hand away, but decorum, that infuriating shadow of etiquette, kept me still. Instead, I stepped back, reclaiming my space with a polite smile that didn’t reach my eyes.
“My grandfather is likely finished with his meeting,” I said, my tone clipped. “I shouldn’t keep him waiting.”
Leandro’s smirk deepened, catching the thread of my dismissal. “Ah, but I’ve just come from the King's study,” he drawled, his voice tinged with mockery. “They are still deeply engaged. There is no rush, Lady Kildare. Why don't you join me on a stroll through the gardens while you wait?"
With a casual wave, he dismissed the knight and librarian, their bows as synchronized as their retreat. Then his attention shifted to Eamon, his gaze narrowing as though Eamon’s very existence was an affront.
“And who might this be?” he asked, his tone as smooth as ever but edged with suspicion.
“He is my personal attendant,” I replied, my voice brisk, hoping to end the inquiry before it began.
Leandro’s brows lifted, his expression one of exaggerated disbelief. “A personal attendant? And no maid to chaperone you? Highly improper for an unmarried lady to be escorted by a man.”
“Your concern is noted,” I replied, my teeth grinding against his condescension. “But Eamon has been at my side since childhood. There is no threat to my reputation in his company.”
“Ah,” Leandro said, his lips twitching with amusement. “But it’s not merely about trust, Lady Kildare—it’s about appearances. The court is not kind to those who leave their reputations to chance. Whispers often drown out truth, and the tongues of high society thrive on the smallest threads of scandal.”
I bit back a retort, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing me ruffled. Instead, I accepted his outstretched hand with a reluctance that must have been obvious. He led me toward the glass doors at the end of the library, beyond which lay a garden blooming with vibrant, meticulously maintained flowers. Eamon followed behind but kept a distance.
“Quite enchanting, don’t you think?” Leandro asked, his voice as smooth as silk.
“Enchanting,” I agreed tersely, though my earlier irritation refused to fade. His every word and movement grated on me, his charm polished to an edge too sharp for comfort.
Our stroll was interrupted by the hurried patter of footsteps. A young man, his blonde curls disheveled and his face flushed from exertion, came bounding toward us, his breath coming in uneven gasps.
“Sebastian,” Leandro greeted with exaggerated casualness, folding his hands behind his back. “What urgent tidings bring you to disturb our walk?”
The young man hesitated, glancing at me nervously before addressing the prince. “Your Highness, you cannot possibly miss another luncheon. The court is already abuzz with rumors that you’ve taken ill—or worse, that you’ve suffered heartache and are abstaining from food entirely.”
“Neither so romantic nor so fortunate,” Leandro replied with a lopsided grin, his tone light but carrying the faintest edge of mischief. He paused, clearly searching for an excuse, when inspiration struck like a lightning bolt.
“But today,” he declared, gesturing toward me with a flourish, “I shall grace the tables—for I have a guest to entertain.”
Sebastian, who had barely spared me a glance before, turned his gaze to me. The shock in his expression was almost comical, his brow furrowing as though he’d just seen a ghost saunter in uninvited.
“Who—?” Sebastian began, his words faltering as recognition dawned.
“This,” Leandro said with the ease of someone dropping a hand of winning cards, “is Lady Luciana Kildare, the future Marchioness of Lorne.”
Sebastian’s reaction was instantaneous. His eyes widened, his carefully composed demeanor slipping for just a moment. “Greetings, Lady Kildare,” he said, though his tone carried a note of wary hesitation. “Your Highness, are you certain—”
I cut in before he could finish, my voice laced with forced politeness. “I would hate to impose on the prince’s busy schedule. The garden offers more than enough distraction, and I am eager to return to the library.”
“Impose?” Leandro echoed, the roguish charm in his smile unyielding. “Nonsense. I suspect the morning’s exertions have left you famished, Lady Kildare.”
The look he gave me told me there was no use in continuing to protest. I found myself reluctantly following Sebastian and the prince back into the palace.
We stopped before the dining hall’s grand doors, their carved panels depicting mythical feasts and revelry.
Inside, the room was alive with the quiet hum of conversation, silverware clinking softly against fine china. Four figures occupied the long, polished table. Two were strangers, their courtly finery marked by an air of entitlement; the other two were unmistakably the Crown Prince and Alaric.
“Ah, Lady Luciana,” Prince Sterling greeted warmly, rising slightly from his seat. “How lovely of you to join us.”
I inclined my head, returning his greeting with measured politeness. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
Alaric’s scowl was as dark and brooding as a storm cloud gathering on the horizon. Ignoring him, I moved to the seat Leandro indicated—conveniently far from Alaric but, to my dismay, directly beside the second prince.
Prince Sterling gestured gracefully toward the others at the table. “May I present Count Valerian and Lady Evelina,” he said, his voice ringing with practiced elegance.
“Charmed,” I murmured, though their reactions were anything but. Their allegiance to Alaric was written plainly in their expressions.
“Prince Leandro,” Lady Evelina began, her voice a saccharine mockery of sweetness. “What a delightful surprise to see you here after so many declined invitations.”
Her eyes flicked briefly to me, her smile curling into something sharper, colder. “It appears Lady Luciana holds more sway than we anticipated. Not yet the Marchioness, and already bending royals to her will.”
A ripple of laughter followed her words, though it faltered against Alaric’s dark glower.
“Ah,” Leandro said smoothly, his laughter light and disarming. “But I never declined. Merely… unfortunate scheduling conflicts. Besides,” he added, turning to me with a glint of mischief in his eye, “Lady Luciana was kind enough to indulge my invitation despite her rigorous studies in the library. Her dedication to her role is truly inspiring.”
Comments (0)
See all