Chapter Twenty

As much as I struggled, yelled, and fought, I was overpowered by the sheer will of Clarice Faretra. By some stroke of cruel fate, she had forced me to wear a dress.

It was a simple silver gown with flowing sleeves. I detested how it moved about my feet as I walked. Why was I going to this banquet in the first place? Oh, that was right. Because Clarice had her conniving ways of blackmailing me.

“Oh, Lannie, cheer up!” Clarice smiled at me through red lips and makeup; thankfully, not as much as her mother tended to put on. She led me through the Hall of Paintings, and I glanced at the picture of the Orandine once more. The scales seemed to gleam in the torchlight.

Clarice must have noticed me staring, because she stopped. “Have I ever showed you the Artistry Hall?” she asked.

I raised an eyebrow. “I thought it was called the Hall of Paintings.”

“Er, no.” She frowned at me. “It’s always been called the Artistry Hall. Have you seen this picture?” Clarice pointed to the siren painting.

I nodded, but my thoughts were somewhere else. Why had the king told me a different name? Maybe he had been away for so long that he forgot it. Something irked in the back of my mind, but I dismissed it as nerves.

Clarice led me towards the smaller banquet hall of the castle. Ever since Fallon’s death, no one wanted to enter the main banquet hall.

“Why am I doing this again?” I moaned as she opened the door to the banquet chamber.

“Because I asked you to!” She grinned at me. “And I pinned your hair up with your mother’s brooch. That should at least make you happy, considering how obsessed you are over the thing.”

“I am obsessed over it,” I growled at her. Then again, I thought about the pendant more than I did any other thing I possessed. Maybe I was too engrossed with the pendant. But what did it do? I touched it, absently feeling the smooth edges of the blue flower.

“See? It does make you happy,” the girl remarked, smiling as she entered the banquet hall.

Torches enveloped the room in a warm glow, while the candles on the two long hardwood tables created a relaxing atmosphere. The queen and king had not yet arrived, but several other guests and servants bustled to and fro. I spotted Odelia talking fervently to a servant girl, gesticulating with her hands at the candles on the tables. Other nobles were spread among the guests, gossiping or doing whatever it was nobles did. There were very few people in this room who I knew.

Clarice patted my shoulder. “You look so pale! Don’t be alarmed. It’s only a few people who are attending tonight.”

She called this crowd “a few people”? There were at least fifty guests here—and that was only a guess! I frowned at a young, handsome man who was making his way towards us.

Great. People.

He smiled; his exuberance made me want to hurl. “Clara!”

?

The young man was approaching quickly—too quickly. I considered stepping in front of Clarice—in case it was an assassination attempt—but some part of me hesitated and thought of the benefits of no blackmail. I just about slapped myself for that heinous thought. Did I really just consider her death a ? How much of a monster could I be?

While I had been absorbed in my own thoughts, the boy had the chance to wrap his arms around the girl next to me into a fierce hug. If he been an assassin, I would have felt guilty, wallowing in self-pity and shame for the rest of my life. Way to go, Lannie. Thinking about blackmail when an assassination attempt was possible.

“Who is this lovely young woman with you?” The boy smiled at me and bowed politely. Clearly, he had manners and, given his rich white tunic and scarlet sash, he must have been a Royal. His golden hair was groomed to perfection and he smelled lightly of cologne. The grin he gave me revealed perfectly white teeth. Yep. Definitely a Royal.

“This is Lannie Brackenbury, my tutor.” Clarice smiled at me, but something was off. It was as if she were nervous.

This couldn’t be. This was good. Was she actually anxious in front of a boy? If she was, then this boy must be the one making her nervous. This would give me leverage on her. I criticized myself for the continuous barrage of terrible thoughts, but I told myself that I was simply preserving my wellbeing.

“Lannie, this is Lucan Faretra, my cousin,” she said, fidgeting with her dress. “And the heir to the throne of Nor.”

Another prince, another heir. This time, to Nor. I was just a tutor! How was it that I kept meeting these important people? I curtsied to the prince. “It’s an honor to meet you…Your Highness.”

Lucan laughed good-naturedly. “Just Lucan, please. I’ve heard much about you from the letters, Lady Lannie.”

I cringed at the title he placed on my name—the alliteration sounded horrid. “The letters?” I glanced at my pupil, who apparently thought the ground looked far more interesting than us. She was sending letters about me to this Lucan boy—to the heir of Nor. Why had I never been aware of it? Was what she had been doing instead of completing her homework all this time?

A smile crept over his face. “Fear not. It isn’t incriminating evidence.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully as he scrutinized me. “From the way she described you, I imagined you to be a wiry old woman.”

I drew myself up and looked at Clarice. She didn’t meet my gaze. I considered taking her away and giving her a lecture, but that would definitely be the wrong choice in front of the heir to Nor’s throne. I coughed into my hand, trying to release some of the pent-up air. “As you can see, I’m not an old woman.”

“That I see.” Lucan smiled, making me wince. He was so cheery. Like a certain I knew, though that person wasn’t as annoying. The prince looked to Clarice and grabbed her hand in both of his. I noticed a firm blush rise in her cheeks. “It’s nice to see you, cousin,” he said. “I must greet your mother now.” He nodded to me, his blue eyes sparkling. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Clarice stared after the prince as he left. I turned to her with raised eyebrows as she put a hand to her chest. “Who was that?”

“I just told you. My cousin.” She walked over to the nearest empty lounge and sat down. “He’s adopted by the king, though, so he’s not related by blood.”

“Adopted?” I asked, sitting next to her. That didn’t make sense. “The king didn’t have any heirs?”

“No, he didn’t. Even though my father is the king’s brother…” Clarice put a hand to her forehead. “It’s complicated.”

She sounded like she was explaining a relationship. “So you two aren’t related?” Without my knowledge, a smile made its way onto my face.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she hissed, “so stop it.”

She didn’t deny the fact that there was something there. “It’s just that he’s the heir to the royal throne of Nor… Just like Titus is the heir to Aria. He’s handsome and seems to like you… Hey, didn’t he call you ?” I grinned.