From anywhere in the palace, I can sense the items—a side effect of once being among them. But I’m not drawn to them the way my father is. For years, the gold has greedily called to him, begging for his attention every moment of the day, telling him he can never part with it, making him believe he can’t live without it. Eventually, the lies the magic whispered came true. He needs the gold. If he goes too long without sitting near it, he grows visibly weaker, as if being near the gold is the only thing keeping him alive. And every day, he must remain longer and longer to gain enough energy to face the day.
This is one of the consequences Dionysus warned my father about, another way for his “gift” to plague my family. I have no doubt the cruel god enjoys the irony—my father asked for power over gold to revive his kingdom, but now the gold holds power over the king.
I don’t ever want the gold to have power over me like that. That’s why I avoid reaching my mind out to it, afraid I will become dependent as well. Sometimes I wonder if my father could survive without being near it, as he’s proven he can survive without me.
Hettie’s elbow jabs into my side. “Do you see him yet?”
“No,” I reply, exasperated. If she can’t see Duke Wystlinos, there’s no way I can.
I knot my fingers together to resist the urge to pull my golden braid over my shoulder and twirl the end through my fingers.
A group of women bow, and I glimpse a dark head bent toward my uncle, who whispers something. As Uncle Pheus finishes, Duke Wystlinos throws his head back and laughs. The sound echoes around the room. Duke Wystlinos then confidently strides forward, one arm holding his sword hilt as if that’s the most natural position in the world.
He turns to several nobles as he passes, clasping outstretched hands.
He bypasses his uncle without a glance. For his part, Ralton makes a show of turning up his nose and looking away. While I’m glad my family isn’t the only one who has drama, I can’t help but doubt that putting Duke Wystlinos on the throne will appease the archduke. His nephew appears to be the only person he despises more than my father and uncle. Well, and me.
The duke is tall and can’t be more than a few years older than me. Tousled black hair falls around his face. He’s muscular without being large, and his square jaw is balanced by a straight nose. His face is all angles, but they come together in a way that makes it hard to look away.
I can see why all the housemaids were in a tizzy when his visit was announced. He’s certainly lived up to his reputation.
He’s wearing a bright purple jacket laced with intricate designs. Silver thread swirls up and down the sleeves, chest, and back, giving him the appearance of a living tapestry and making him stand out against my uncle’s less-adorned black jacket. He reminds me of the daring sea captains I read about who go off in search of lost islands and distant shores.
He spots me. A smile spreads across his lips.
I suck in a breath. I tell myself it has nothing to do with the way that smile makes me want to smile back. The breath is only to steady me for what’s to come.
The entire party comes to a stop before me.
My father’s graying hair contrasts with Pheus’s dark locks, so much so that you’d think they were separated by decades instead of only two years. It’s one of many differences between them, and not a day goes by that I’m not thankful for Pheus’s presence and concern for me. He’s the glue that has been holding the kingdom together as my father grows weaker, the one who runs every council meeting and judges every dispute brought before the crown.
“My daughter.” My father stumbles over the words. He seems to collapse inwardly like he always does when he’s in the same room with me. I notice his clothes are rumpled, and I can’t remember if they’re the same ones he wore yesterday.
Thankfully, Uncle Pheus is there to not only support my father, but to finish the introduction. “Princess Kora, may I introduce Duke Aris Wystlinos.”
“Princess.” The duke bows. He doesn’t drop the smile as he addresses me, which either means he’s not nervous or he’s very good about hiding it. I’m not sure which I prefer.
He flicks dark hair out of his eyes as he straightens. “I am honored to make your acquaintance.”
I offer the smallest curtsy in return. I’m not sure if it’s low enough or not. Maybe if my tutors had stuck around after I’d been turned to gold, I would’ve executed it without concern, but these days most of my education comes from books and books alone. After deciding I don’t care if the curtsy is proper enough, I raise my head and finally meet Duke Wystlinos’s gaze.
“Welcome to the palace, Duke Wystlinos,” I intone. “We are most honored by your visit.” Everyone in the room knows I’m lying, but we’re nobles. We’re used to playing this stupid game of saying things we don’t mean.
Uncle Pheus smiles in encouragement, and Hettie keeps shifting next to me, as if she thinks by moving enough, the duke will eventually be forced to look at her.
Instead, his eyes stay locked on mine. Or where mine would be if the veil weren’t covering my face.
“Princess, if you’re finished with your meal, perhaps we could walk together in the rose garden?” The way the duke says it holds such confidence, even though I know he’s been instructed by Uncle Pheus to take me to the garden, where I can be embarrassed in peace. Still, he almost manages to make the visit sound intriguing, like something I should want because he wants it.
I’m not drawn in by his easy self-assurance. I’ve dealt with men like him before, ones who rely on their charm and bravado to advance them politically. But I have my own reasons for wanting to go to the rose garden. Nothing brings out my skin tone more than glints of sunlight, and nothing scares a suitor away faster.
“Of course,” I say.
Uncle Pheus nods. As usual, my father refuses to look at me, and I wonder if he feels as ashamed as I do by this charade.
I wait for Duke Wystlinos to make his way around the head table so we can venture outside and get this over with.
He holds his arm out to me. It’s an unexpected move, and I freeze.
My breath catches in my throat, and my hands clench together, my heartbeat thudding loudly as I stare at his outstretched arm.
What if he’s wearing gold?
Seconds tick by. Too long. I’ve kept him waiting too long.
Surely Uncle Pheus checked. Because Archduke Ralton would have us removed from the palace in a heartbeat if I turned Duke Wystlinos to gold in front of everyone.
My eyes frantically search for Uncle Pheus, but he’s helping my father up onto the dais. I’m out of options. And time.
I pull down my sleeves so they’re flush with my gloves—the fabric is already beginning to fray from the repetitive action—and take a calming breath.
I pray Uncle Pheus did check because I have no other choice than to unclamp my hands and loop my arm through the duke’s.
CHAPTER 2
There. Nothing happened.
I exhale, and my heartbeat settles. I should’ve known Uncle Pheus would check. He always does.
Duke Wystlinos and I take stiff steps toward the balcony door. The cool air hits me once we’re outside, and I sense him relax. I breathe in and out, happy to not have the tepid indoor air continually circulating under my veil.