House of Secrets and Vows (Crown of Deceit #1)

11. The Prince of Valazica

11

THE PRINCE OF VALAZICA

T he guard descends the small staircase, his eyes locked on me. “It’s quite late for a stroll, miss.”

I keep my chin up and continue walking toward him, seemingly unfazed. One of the first things Felix taught me when I joined the resistance was always to appear confident. The easiest way to draw the wrong kind of attention is to seem nervous.

My lips curve into a small smile. “I couldn’t sleep with so much excitement in my head. This is my first Solstice at the palace.”

He eyes my outfit. “Out for a walk? In that?”

His gaze lingers on my chest.

Although my corset top doesn’t reveal as much cleavage as Emeryn’s dress, it isn’t the least bit modest. It fits the mood of the revel perfectly, so whoever Felix’s inside connection is, they clearly knew what to expect. But my attire isn’t that of a simple midnight stroll through the garden.

While the note from Felix’s connection gave specific instructions on how to get to the party, it made no mention of the best time to return. Something I wish I'd realized sooner.

“I didn’t know being an aficionado of women’s fashion was part of your line of duty?” I retort.

He inhales sharply, and I regret not keeping my mouth shut. “My job is to protect the palace and to report unusual behavior to the king.”

Gods, I am making this all so much worse.

But I’ve seen the attitudes of noble women who think they are better than those beneath them. Perhaps I can lean into the role and get the guard to let me continue on my way.

“It’s all right, Zandor,” a smooth voice says from the garden.

Prince Nevan stands from a bench sitting in the shadows in between neatly trimmed hedges. “I believe the lady is simply returning from the revel I’m throwing in the old crypt.”

So, it was a crypt at one time.

Zandor removes his hand from the hilt of his sword, huffing as if he’d planned to slice me in half had the prince not interrupted. “You can never be too careful.”

The prince steps between us and turns to me. His bright eyes meet mine, and a tingle skitters over my skin.

He leans toward me. “Are you an assassin here to kill the royal line?”

I pat my curves. “I’m afraid I left all my weapons in my room.”

This earns a glare from the guard, and I can’t help but smirk.

“See, she’s harmless,” the prince says.

“Maybe not harmless,” I quip, unable to resist. “But I have no intention of offing anyone tonight.”

The prince lifts a brow as he smirks at me.

“I take full responsibility for Miss—” he tilts his head toward me.

“Zariah.” I’ve given my name to too many others to stop now.

“Miss Zariah.” Nevan reaches out and taps Zandor’s shoulder twice. “Try not to arrest anyone from my party tonight.”

The guard crosses an arm in front of his torso and bows. “Of course, my prince.”

I don’t hide the smugness on my face as Zandor side-eyes me before continuing on in the opposite direction of the party.

Nevan shifts his attention to me.

A stubbly beard and mustache surround his mouth, making him appear older than when he’d come to the Temple to confess. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting yet, Zariah. This is your first Solstice here at the palace?”

How had I not noticed him sitting there in the dark? Usually, I pride myself on my keen senses. Apparently, the guard hogged my attention.

“Yes, I’ve come in the place of my Uncle Nal. He sends his apologies for missing the occasion.”

With the guard out of sight, my nerves settle, and I take in the prince. I’m closer to him than I’ve ever been, and this time, no curtain separates us. He’s broader than I remember, the V in his shirt dipping to reveal a defined chest.

I bring my hands to my hips in an effort not to cross them in front of my displayed cleavage.

“Nal? The name sounds familiar, but I can’t recall his face,” the prince muses as a gust of wind blows across the side of the castle, tossing his wavy hair.

“He has rather unremarkable features.” I pray the bluff is believable. “He owns a merchant ship that often sails to Falenmont, which is why he had to miss this year’s event.”

I borrow from Emeryn’s story, as the most convincing lies are the detailed ones.

For all I know, my supposed uncle is the most beautiful human in the kingdom, but I pray that if he is, the prince doesn’t know.

“You must look nothing like him if he’s as unremarkable as you say.” Nevan’s mouth quirks in a flirtatious grin.

“Such flattery, and we only just met.”

“You should see how flattering I am once you get to know me.” He leans in even closer.

Blaise’s warning of the prince’s heartbreaking reputation makes perfect sense now. If I’m not careful, it would be easy to forget my desire for revenge in his golden-bronze features.

But as pretty as his face is, it isn’t enough to erase the image of him with Aella before she was killed.

Voices from the palace side entrance steal both my and the prince’s attention as two young men stumble out into the fresh air.

One misses a step and trips to the bottom of the stairs, a string of curse words slipping from his mouth.

The other laughs until he notices the prince’s watchful gaze. Then he hurries to his friend and pulls him up with a quick elbow jab to the friend’s side.

The plainness of their clothes makes them likely servants, and the slight scent of manure now in the air leads me to believe they are stable hands.

All signs of laughter vanish as their postures straighten before they bow.

“My prince,” they say in unison.

The taller of the two lowers his arms to his side. “Our apologies for the interruption.”

“It seems you’re celebrating the holiday. Nothing to apologize for. Though Zandor just went that way, and he’s rather grumpy tonight.” The prince gestures to his right with his chin.

The stable hands give each other a quick look before rushing in the opposite direction of the guard.

“Smart men,” I remark as they scurry away. “Zandor is quite scary.”

“He isn’t the overly warm type, is he?” The light breeze blows the prince’s thin tunic, and I’m hit with a wave of his vanilla and oak scent, tainted with a light metallic note. “So, did I miss anything exciting at my party?”

“The wine was quite delicious, though I’m sure you’re used to such fine beverages.”

“There is no lack of liquor around this palace. Anything else?”

“There was some questionable dancing and longing gazes, but I think I left before the night got out of hand.” I’d been so busy waiting for the prince I hadn’t paid much attention to anything else, but he doesn’t need to know that. “I’m sure there are a slew of people eager for your arrival, seeing as you’re the host and all.”

Even if running into him alone is more than I could have wished for, I’m still irked by the time I wasted.

He stares at me, eyes distant, then blinks. “Yes, well, I’m afraid they’ll have to be disappointed. I don’t plan to attend this time.”

“You prefer solitude in the dark?”

“Yes,” he answers simply. “Though I’m enjoying your company.”

As he peers down at me, his mouth quirks ever-so-slightly to the side. Though his emotions are harder to read than most, I sense a flicker of sadness.

I pivot from one foot to another, the intensity of his gaze making me uncomfortable.

Despite his nearly flawless skin, bags darken the areas under his eyes, and the line of his jaw is sharper than when he visited the Temple. A small scar on his left cheek, just above his stubble, is visible in the moonlight.

As I stare at him, a memory of his face when he’d entered The Silver Lady flashes in my mind, before Aella was taken by the vicious group he belongs to.

Desperation strikes me like a snake sinking its teeth into a mouse. I want to demand he confess what he did to my friend right here under the bright moonlight.

Does he possess even an ounce of regret? Not that it would matter. Regret won’t bring Aella back from the dead.

An accusation dances on the tip of my tongue. It would be so easy to catch him off guard, but I want more than answers, and striking now would only ruin my cover and get me killed.

Revealing I know the prince’s secret won’t end well, nor will it earn me the revenge I crave, so I pull my thoughts to the present. “I should be heading to bed.”

“Can I walk you to your room?” he offers.

“No,” I blurt. “But thank you for saving me from Zandor. I’ll give you back your solitude.”

Nevan steps toward me and takes my hand, planting a gentle kiss on my fingers. “Then sweet dreams, Zariah.”

My pulse skips as his lips brush my skin, and I resist the urge to pull away from his touch. Not because I don’t like the tingle of the kiss, but because I do.

“Goodnight, Your Highness,” I manage to say after he releases my hand.

I spin and leave before I turn into some silly doe-eyed girl. No matter how lovely to the eye the prince is, I know the truth.

He is a monster.