Page 32 of Of Masks and Fury

This was my father’s cruelty in action, each detail designed to remind me I was a commodity, a thing to be displayed and sold to the highest bidder.

Lord Alfred’s gray hair gleamed in the candlelight. He’d been talking for twenty minutes straight about his estates on the northern shore, and how our daughters would be beauties, with my height and my family’s coloring, all while comparing me favorably to his prize hunting hound.

“You’d look lovely in the family jewels,” he said, reaching out to touch my hand where it rested on the table.

I pulled it away, placing it in my lap. While I wasn’t opposed to marrying someone older, he had to be at least my father’s age.

He didn’t seem to notice me pulling away, already launching into another story about his properties and dogs and the importance of producing strong heirs. This is the man my father thought I was going to visit with when I fled my guard, supposedly to enter a cluster. Instead, I’d infiltrated Trew’s court.

My grip tightened on the napkin I’d laid in my lap. I forced myself to breathe. To smile. To nod at appropriate moments.

Across from me, Lord Crestin watched with dark, calculating eyes. Because he was the suitor my father appeared to favor the most, he was the dangerous one. I sensed he was intelligent enough to see through façades and ambitious enough to want power more than affection, yet something in his gaze suggested a flicker of genuine sympathy, as if he pitied the cage I was in.

“Tell me, Princess,” he said, his voice smooth, “how did you find your time at the cluster? It must have been quite a change from court life.”

The question felt like a trap.

“It was enlightening,” I said. “The sisters were very kind.”

“And yet you left rather suddenly.” His smile didn’t reach his dark eyes. “Most who go there stay for months, even years. You barely remained a few short weeks.”

“I have responsibilities here.” I kept my voice level. “The cluster understood.”

“I’m sure they did.” He took a sip of wine, never breaking eye contact. “Still, it’s curious. Some might say suspicious, given the timing. You left shortly after your sister’s tragic death, did you not?”

“I needed time to think.”

“You left your poor father to mourn alone.”

My magic flickered under my skin, barely controlled, and the torches flared on the walls.

My father’s gaze sharpened.

“I’m sure the princess had her reasons,” Lord Finley said, flashing me a smile that was probably meant to be charming. He was younger than the other two, handsome in a pampered way with his dark hair artfully styled. He’d spent the first course checking his reflection in the mirrored wall opposite the table.

“My delicate flower needed time to grieve,” he said, reaching for my other hand that still rested on the table. “Isn’t that right, sweet blossom?”

“Indeed,” I bit out.

My father shot me a warning look.

I consciously relaxed my jaw, forced my smile wider, and reached for my wine glass, trying not to break the stem when I gripped it.

The bodice of my gown was suffocating me, the elaborate silk much too tight. I wanted to tear it off, run from the room, and destroy the entire place.

I could not look at Trew. If I did, I’d see his fury, and I’d lose what little control I had left.

A servant appeared at my elbow with the next course, delicate fish in a cream sauce, but his hand shook, spilling a drop of sauce onto the tablecloth near Finley’s plate.

Finley recoiled, cursing under his breath. “Pay attention, would you?” he barked.

“Apologies, my lord,” the servant stammered.

“Watch yourself,” Trew said flatly, stepping forward to steady the platter before resuming his position. The brief intervention drew my father’s eye, but only for a moment.

My father’s knuckles went white on his wine glass.

Though I knew it wasn’t, the fish tasted rancid. I nudged the plate away.