I finger my locket, trying to push it over the top of my gown. It keeps slipping under, its chill and weight foreign against my skin. Annoyed, I give up with a huff and pick at the chicken
on my plate. The guilt over Mr. Levine’s and my father’s deaths make it impossible to eat.
Sebastian takes a long sip of wine and peeks at me above the rim of his goblet. He sets it down. “Zara. Dance with me.” Amusement laces his voice. “I’ve never had the pleasure with you.”
Of course not. I’ve never been to any of the court’s gatherings or celebrations. “Not now, my lord. I’m weary from the ceremony.”
His smile widens. “Ah. You’re still angry with me for my harsh tone earlier today.” He takes my hand. “Come now. I’ll make it up to you. It’s our night, after all.”
“This is not our night. It’s yours.” It’s true. The Court doesn’t celebrate our engagement. They bask in a drunken stupor over their prince soon becoming a king and continuing their life of extravagance. As the ceremony was open to all of Karm, the celebration is privileged to only the nobles. The ones who benefit from the hard work and mistreatment of the commoners.
Commoners like my father, Mr. Levine, and I used to be. Stationed to work beneath others.
Sebastian grips my hand tighter and pulls me from my chair and thoughts. “Nonsense.” He half-drags me toward the center of the room. “Don’t be intimidated, my love. I’m sure you can keep up.”
My skin recoils from his touch as he wraps me in an embrace. Renewed anger blooms beneath my chest. “I’m sure I can match your sloppy steps, and your dull wit for that matter, as your wine-soaked brain has left you lacking in charms.”
“I’m not drunk…yet.” He laughs, then sobers as he dips his face toward mine, leaning in close. “But I assure you—” his voice is low and husky as he begins to sway us “—if I was attempting to seduce you, you’d not resist me so easily.” His eyes bore into mine, and his sweet, winey breath skims my lips.
I push against his chest, backing him away from me a few inches. “Manners, Sebastian.” I scan the room, looking for curious stares. “Don’t want to cause a scandal in front of your subjects.”
He throws his head back and laughs louder. “You’re my betrothed. And extremely sexy tonight.” He pulls me closer and rocks us back and forth. “I doubt they’d fault me for wanting to be with you.”
The air catches in my throat, trying to choke me, and I cough. He can’t be serious. From the little I know of Sebastian, I’ve found his humor insensitive and crass, but I can’t figure out if he’s joking or insinuating we should be together before we’re wed.
That will not happen, but I suddenly feel caught, like I’m a fish stuck in a net and wriggling for freedom. Except he’s the slippery one, and I can’t grasp the truth in his words.
I attempt to relax against him, allowing him to lead as his hands caress my lower back. I’m acutely aware of his chest pressed to mine, his hips pressed to my hips. He smells of rain and masculine cologne. My eyes shut, taking in his scent, and my head swims. Whether from the little bit of wine I had with supper or his proximity, I’m unsure. He’s dancing far too close for era customs, and I’m uncomfortable with his show.
Turning my head to the side, I seek air not shared between the prince and me, and notice Devlan across the room. He’s leaning against the far wall and burning a hole into something, or someone, with his eyes. Shifting my head, I follow his gaze. One of the king’s Round Table knights of the Force—the one who callously took me from my home—Larsen… Laren… no, Larkin is dancing with a petite girl in a satin cream dress.
I look back at Devlan and consider the gravity of his stare. Is he angry that Sir Larkin isn’t dressed in uniform? The girl is beautiful. Mayhap she’s someone Devlan cares for. I smile to myself, trying to envision the over-serious Devlan being romantic with anyone. It’s an amusing thought. He takes his duty as first knight too severely to become involved.
Why do I care?
I don’t care. I’m trying to avoid my thoughts of the betrothal and my father and being this close to Sebastian now. Imagining a scandal with the knights is a good distraction from my own situation. Soon, I’ll have to plot an escape, and that thought terrifies me, especially after witnessing the Force torturing Mr. Levine, and seeing the dreaded King Hart on the monitor during the ceremony.
Sebastian nuzzles his head closer to mine, resting his cheek against my temple. “See,” he whispers in my ear, his breath warm on my skin. “This isn’t so bad.”
I don’t respond. I can’t. If I open my mouth in this moment, everything will fly out. He’s forcing me to marry him, to be a queen, and sit idly by as he rules his realm with malice and fear. I want nothing to do with that, and I detest him and this era for not allowing me a say in my own future, and this shattered world for taking my father.
I won’t rule over a kingdom where everyone you love is taken by some Virus no one understands. Where everyone pretends Karm isn’t a neat lie woven into a pretty package meant to deceive us about the horrid truth of our reality. Most days, I wonder if everyone is being fed some drug that keeps them in a lucid daze, and somehow, I’m the only one immune.
The music switches tempo, and bodies break apart as the beat demands a fast-paced dance. I separate from Sebastian, but his hands linger on my waist.
“Well, thank you for the dance,” I say. “But I’m too tired from today’s events to entertain you further.” I curtsy slightly, keeping my eyes on him.
He nods. “I’m pleased with our first dance,” he says, and I arch an eyebrow. “Let me escort you back to the table.” He offers me his arm.
I accept it, latching my fingers onto his solid arm, and suspect he’s flexing. Sebastian is built well; I’ll admit to that. He has a tight, muscular form that makes the girls of Karm swoon, but his arrogance ruins the effect. The appalling words that fall from his mouth shatter the illusion.
“Prince Sebastian,” a high-pitched voice calls from behind us. I turn with Sebastian as he guides me to face a perfectly polished young maiden. No doubt a lady of the court, flawlessly packaged in a gleaming silver dress, as if she stepped right out of a painting.
Sebastian tips his head forward. “Miss Cecily.” He pivots my way. “I don’t believe you’ve had the privilege of meeting my betrothed.”
Cecily’s gleaming blue eyes sweep over me, very apparently. “Congratulations on your engagement. It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, Princess Zara.” She curtsies low.
“Thank you. It’s lovely to meet you, Miss Cecily.” I attempt to mimic her expert curtsy, but feel I’m not quite as lithe.