Escape to the Sea (Tangled Hearts #1)

Chapter 1 Swept Away

Ephraim

“Come on already, Ephraim!” Marius Echtarch grins at me, his blonde hair flopping about as he lightly jogs ahead. I sigh as I tug on the too-tightly tied ruffled jabot at my throat, trying to muster the same energy.

“You’re just excited to see Ed,” I say.

My cousin, thrice removed, laughs, “Of course! I never get to see him when Summer Court is in session. We have to be official and with the main branch the whole time.” He scrunches his face, annoyed.

“You’ll be a voting member soon,” I reply. “Besides, you seem to enjoy the parties well enough.”

Marius laughs, his round cheeks taking on a rosy color. “That’s the only good part about court. You should enjoy the parties more!”

“It’s hard to enjoy a Linklater party. They’re so stuffy.”

Even though I don’t have the same energy as Marius for this ball, I’m glad I’m not walking in alone. We don’t get to see each other often, and it’s nice to be able to spend time together when we can.

Walking backwards, he interlocks his hands behind his head, grinning at me. “It’s a shame me and Ed couldn’t take you down to the gambling hall before it blew up. One of the dealers was a really dashing elf. He would have been perfect to loosen you up—”

The good mood that was starting in me dissipates. “A gambling hall? In the Trunk? Isn’t that dangerous? And, Marius, I don’t really need—”

Marius turns and slings his arm over my shoulder. “You definitely need to loosen up! Come on, when was the last time you had any fun?”

“I have plenty of fun,” I bristle.

“Okay, fun that involves another person. Not your books or gardening.”

“I have fun with you and Ed.”

He rolls his eyes, exaggerated. “About twenty minutes into anything, your eyes start to glaze over and you’re off in your head again.”

“Well, it’s not my fault you and Ed are all over each other.”

At that, Marius does have the grace to look a little sheepish. “Sorry. But I can’t help it!”

“I know,” I say, smiling a little. He and Ed are sweet together and I’m happy for them, really. “But I’m fine as I am, for now.”

Marius gives me a skeptical look but then we’re entering the ballroom. The hall is large, spacious, but stately. There’s a long table set up with hors d’oeuvres, and servants circle with trays of champagne and wine, and the orchestra in the back is already casting pleasant illusions of whimsical lights and figures up to the ceiling as they play.

“Hm… I don’t see Ed yet. Oh, there’s Leo and the gents. Let’s go say hi!” Marius points to a group of his friends, other young nobles our age. Saying hello can’t hurt—it’s better than dealing with the gaggle of court ladies who eye me like cats to a mouse.

As we walk towards them, I take in the room. My Uncle’s daughter, Kassandra stands by the wall, fanning herself and looking exquisitely bored. It’s surprising, considering she skipped the afternoon court session to rest for the ball tonight. I move on, drawn to the center of the room as the orcish Matriarch Helena and her husband Bruno take to the floor, her dark hair let loose and bouncing with a vibrancy and joy that’s at odds with her imposing presence at court.

I spot several others from court—Davya Linklater, looking snobbish and intolerable as always; a cluster of gnomes and humans from Dexmaro chatting with some of the half-orcs from Scounce; the dragonkin of Onson lounging in a pile of plush cushions looking on in amusement. There are others scattered about, snotty mages from Lutven chatting with imperial members of Branch Linklater, who are in residence in the capital of Yaventown, since court is in session. Whenever the farthest reaches of the Aurelian Empire are together, it makes such a fascinating picture.

My uncle, Regent Prince Tristan, is chatting with a group of Linklater and Lilliplover nobles. I have half a mind to join him, but the last time I attempted that, I was completely out of my depth and embarrassed my uncle thoroughly. Best to avoid any discussion of politics while at the fete.

“Oh! There’s Ed!” Marius exclaims, pausing as we’re halfway to the group of gents. He turns to where I spot Edmund Franklin eating and talking with another gentleman and starts to make his way over. I begin to follow when someone approaches us, near outright cutting us off.

“Excuse me, Prince Ephraim! Don’t you look dashing tonight?”

Marius gives me a look and darts off before I can stop him, leaving me alone to attend to Originator Nimmin of Branch Davan. The Originator is gnomish, which means he’s short of stature; his round face is brimming with the same boundless enthusiasm he carries when talking about a new invention.

I incline my head politely, as befitting the head of a branch and the ruler of the desert province of Dexmaro. “Thank you and good evening, Originator Nimmin. Are you enjoying the ball?”

“Oh, it’s wonderful! I know I’ll be sweeping my Carmen off her feet momentarily! But I absolutely needed to come over and make your acquaintance!”

“Oh? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You’re a young, handsome, strapping lad who has all the opportunities in front of him!” One doesn’t need to be at court long to figure out what he’s talking about. Courtship. I maintain a polite smile, glancing back out to the ballroom where I catch Kassandra’s eye.

He continues, “But there’s no need to rush! My girl, Caterina, she’ll be of age in a few short years and is already blossoming into a fine young woman! As lovely as her mother and as inventive as myself! You’ll find no better match!”

Oh dear. I clear my throat and try to look pleasant, but neutral. “Oh, well, I’m certainly in no rush.”

“Oh, of course, Prince Ephraim! It’s important to keep an open mind, naturally! If you’d like a portrait to get a glimpse of Caterina’s striking beauty—”

“Originator Nimmin! Don’t tell me you’re trying to pawn off your fifteen-year-old daughter onto my cousin.” Gods bless Kassandra. Her voice, booming, cuts into our conversation and turns a few heads as she sweeps towards us.

She’s a larger-than-life presence, dressed for the evening in a heavily brocaded gown of gold and black that accentuates her large bosom. She complements the gown with matching jewels of rubies and onyx around her neck and in her slightly pointed ears, which are the only real visible indication of her mother’s elven heritage. Her voluminous bright red hair is pulled up and away from her face with a jeweled hair pin. All in all, Kassandra looks loud and gaudy, which, quite frankly, she is.

Originator Nimmin bristles at her, cheeks flushing red. “My daughter is the jewel of the south! It is the perfect opportunity to join houses, as your father might well know if he bothered to respond to my letters—”

Kassandra snorts in indignation, snapping her fan open and fanning herself loftily. “Nimmin, she’s a girl. Let her be one. Besides, if she is the jewel of the south, she ought to have her pick first, no?”

I clear my throat, stepping between them, something in me ticking. “I’d be happy to honor you, and her, with all the respect bestowed to a princess of the empire after her debut at court.”

He turns to me, beaming as if Kassandra isn’t there. “Of course! If you’d like a portrait in the meantime, let me know!”

I manage to escort Kassandra towards a server walking around with a tray of champagne and take one for each of us, downing mine quickly.

“Well, you can’t say Nimmin is an idiot. He knows the girl will be a catch.” She takes a generous sip of the champagne.

“At fifteen?” I scoff. “Hardly.”

Kassandra scoffs, taking another sip. She’s older than me by twelve years, so while we’re cordial, we aren’t particularly close. It also doesn’t help that she lives in Castiglione, which is several days ride from where I live in Vinitore.

“I don’t want to think about courtship at the moment.” Another servant walks past with a tray of champagne, and I pick up a second glass, thanking him as he moves along.

“Good,” she harrumphs. She points with her fan to the gaggle of courtiers now starting to eye me like hawks. “You see all those girls over there? They’ll be on you like bait to a hook but that doesn’t matter. You keep pulling your line along, little cousin. No need to reel any one in yet.”

I shift a little, annoyed at being called “little”. I’m twenty, which is young but it’s not that young. “I have no intention of doing so. Does Uncle Tristan believe otherwise?”

“Quite the contrary. We’re all in agreement. He’s been staving off courtship and betrothal requests for you since you came of age.”

“Like Originator Nimmin’s inquiries? How many of those typically show up in Castiglione?”

Kassandra’s fan stops and her hazel eyes peer at me curiously. “My father doesn’t tell you?”

I pause, forcing myself to relax. I don’t want to argue with her. The last time someone did, the unfortunate Lady Tira left the exchange utterly humiliated with the whole party watching on. “I suppose if Uncle Tristan doesn’t think it’s worth my time, then it’s not an issue. I mean, really, Originator Nimmin should at least wait for Caterina to be seventeen, eighteen before attempting to arrange a marriage with anyone.”

“Better not at all,” Kassandra replied. Her voice has its usual airs, but there’s something heavier underneath it. She finishes the rest of her champagne. “Don’t you have better things to be doing than chatting with an old widow like me?”

“You’re not old, Kassie.” She harrumphs again, fanning herself vigorously. I add, “If you want old, you should see Portia and Anais. They were in fine form this afternoon at court.”

She smiles conspiratorially and leans towards me, covering her mouth with her fan coyly but not even bothering with a whisper as she says, “Do tell.”

I do, explaining the Lilliplovers’ so-called soothsaying machine, and Portia and Anais’ heckling Erza Lilliplover from the stands.

“Bah! Serves him right! Lilliplovers and their useless tricks. I’d like to know how much gold they wasted for that useless contraption. I’m sure Helena had a field day with him.”

“Oh, she shut it down quickly, with a vision of wine and dancing in our future. And if it would predict who would succeed our esteemed Empress.”

“Well, she can’t care that much, considering the Empress isn’t even here and it’s her family hosting the ball. Horrid affair, honestly. It’s so boring. They do the same thing with the same decor every year.”

I grin. “Everyone says that about the Echtarch garden party.”

She scoffs. “Only because Father won’t let me plan it. Says I’ll drain the coffers because I want to bring in peacocks!”

I laugh and we both finish our champagne. Then, she snaps her fan shut and points it at me, like an extension of her pointed fingernail. “Now, you get on out and find someone to dance with, hm? Make those girls jump over themselves with envy. Maybe snag a bite for the night. I know I am.”

I can’t help but grin as I step in front of her. “Well then, I suppose my first dance ought to go to the finest lady in the room.” I give her a half bow and extend my hand to her. Kassandra scoffs again but takes my hand anyway. I lead her in a pleasant, formal line dance before she saunters off, reminding me to keep my line open, and finds a handsome gentleman from House Duncan to chat with. The benefits of being a young widow, I suppose.

A young woman approaches me—Amelia from Branch Mollia I believe—and we dance next. Then there’s another, and another. Each one has a pleasant expression, batting eyelashes, soft hands covered in dainty gloves; they’re dressed to perfection in satin gowns of Yaventown fashion that accentuate their curves and figures. I take Kassandra’s words to heart and try to enjoy myself, engaging in small talk, wondering if I might find someone to spend the evening chatting with, or a little more.

But… nothing bites. The dances, the women, start to blur, and when I realize that I am not holding Lady Verona from Branch Lilliplover and am, in fact, dancing with Lady Bonnie of Branch Duncan, that’s when I know I need a break.

I manage to slip away and grab some water, then more champagne to quench my thirst, looking about the room again. It’s later in the evening and everyone appears to be loosening up. At a table off the dance floor, Matriarch Helena and Lysander the Ancient are roaring with laughter at something another dragonkin said, and Nimmin and Carmen are indeed tearing up the dance floor. Kassandra is dancing too closely with the same man from House Duncan and, of course, Marius and Ed are nowhere to be found. Leo and the rest of Marius’ friends look three sheets to the wind already, so it’s not worth the trouble.

Instead, I go to stand against the wall, looking out at everyone having fun. Shouldn’t that be me too? A wave of exhaustion overtakes me, and I have the sudden urge to go back to my room and lie down. Of course! That sounds reasonable and it will allow me to practice my forms in the morning—Arlen will be disappointed if I don’t keep up my daily martial arts regimen. Besides, why stay here and be miserable when I could be in bed reading about the irresistible Count Drakon and their forbidden romance with the devastatingly handsome suitor, Lord Aneas? That sounds much more preferable to pointless dances and earning myself another miserable hangover.

Resolute, I take one step off the wall and come to a dead stop. The room fades, time slows, and there is only… her.

Smooth skin the color of purple jacaranda; luscious, loose dark hair with tinges of blue visible like globe thistle; a lithe, purposeful gait as she strides across the room. She bears no jewelry in her long, pointed ears or on her wrists, and her gauzy green gown flutters around her as she walks, like leaves adorning the petals of her skin and hair. The gown is simple but elegant, her chest framed by a feathery gold and green centerpiece at the midsection. As her hair shifts, my gaze traces the lines of the gown at her shoulder blades, her back bare.

Then, her sharp green eyes catch mine. It’s brief. A second. A millisecond, perhaps, but my feet are on the move, my body knowing my intent before my mind can catch up. Suddenly I’m sidling up to her, and my mouth is racing ahead. “Excuse me!”

The elf stops, taken aback for a moment. She’s a few inches taller than me and her frame is lean but ethereal in the gauzy gown. Soon, she relaxes and dips her head, extending her palms out in an elven bow. “Your Highness,” she murmurs. Her voice is a delight to my ears, sweeter than any sweeping melody the orchestra could play. “May I help you?”

“Help?” I echo, my foolish mind coming to the horrific realization that I have no idea what to say to her. “Oh, no, I… erm, well.” Oh, gods above and below, I’m making a terrible mess of this!

Her face stills, going expressionless like porcelain in that way only the elves seem capable of as she politely responds. “If you’ll excuse me then, Your Highness.” She starts to side-step me, but I block her path.

“A dance! Please, if you’re so inclined. I…” My cheeks burn, but I say it anyway. “I would be remiss if I did not at least make the attempt to persuade you to tolerate my presence for a few moments.”

Her head tilts, the porcelain expression holding, and it’s a little unnerving, particularly since she’s slightly taller than me. Regardless, I offer a hand confidently. “Will you indulge me?”

The silence that stretches between us seems to take too long but finally, she nods. “One dance.”