Page 83 of Heartbreak Prince

“I’ve heard rumors of her illnesses,” I venture.

“Illness…” Lady Kaenan raises an eyebrow. “You could say that. An over-fondness for liquor and emthal is a type of illness, one she lived with since Vawn was four or five years old. It stole her away from him when he needed her most.” She gets up from her chair abruptly, clearing her throat. “Ah, well. Mustn’t speak ill of the dead. Such is the world, after all. We make of it what we can and try to help those who cross our paths, yes?”

“We appreciate your help more than I can say,” I reply. “Being here, after everything… it’s such a relief. Almost too good to be true.”

Lady Kaenan looks down at me sympathetically. “In times like these, nothing is certain, and the fates know best, but I will say this. Let the enemies come.” She takes a fierce drag of her cigarette and blows out the smoke like a threat. “Let them try to get to my boy. They’ll have to go through all of us, won’t they?” She gives me a fiery wink. “Ah, here they are. My Lord and the prince.”

As the two men enter the bedroom, I rise slowly from the stool by the dressing table, my heart full of everything she has said. I understand now why Vawn wanted to come here, why he was so convinced that he would be safe with these people.

“Here she is!” Lady Kaenan gestures to me and my gown. “Fabulously gorgeous, don’t you think?”

Lord Kaenan comes up to me and presses my hand between both of his, earnest welcome in his eyes. He’s a short man, dressed in an old-fashioned tailcoat and trousers, with a velvet cap to cover his bald head. He’s neither handsome nor imposing, but kindness shines in his gaze, and the creases around his mouth and eyes hint at a merry sense of humor.

“Fate’s blessings be upon you, Forsythia,” he says. “We are so grateful that you brought our boy here safely.”

“It was my duty and my pleasure.”

“Well said. Well said.” He pats my hand and releases it. I appreciate that he doesn’t cling to my fingers like some men would. His gaze remains firmly on my face, despite the revealing neckline of my gown.

Vawn’s gaze is another matter entirely. He’s staring at me as if he has never seen a pretty woman in a fine gown before. He says nothing, but his icy eyes have that wolfish look again. If the others weren’t here, I think he might eat me alive, in the most salacious way.

Lady Kaenan notices, of course. Her gaze flicks from Vawn to me and back again while she takes another pull at her cigarette. I can’t tell what she thinks of Vawn’s obvious desire. She has probably seen him lust over countless women and perhaps a few men, too. I’m nothing new, just the latest in a long parade of beautiful things that have caught his attention.

He looks gorgeous, too, if not quite himself. He’s been stuffed into a black ruffled shirt, a tie, and a velvety tailcoat, nothing like the edgy fashions he prefers.

“We should give Forsythia the lay of the land before the party,” Lady Kaenan says, taking Vawn’s arm companionably. “Let’s show your lovely bodyguard around, shall we? Iyrandar, will you take Forsythia?”

Lord Kaenan clears his throat politely and offers his arm with a courtly little bow. “Shall we?”

I’ve never been treated like a high-born woman before. The closest I ever came to it was the Feast of Triumph at the Academy, during which all the graduates entered arm in arm with their escorts. I asked one of the younger cadets to go with me, and he was a pleasant companion, but he was a little awkward in offering me his arm and guiding me in. Lord Kaenan makes everything seem effortless.

I quickly lose track of how many rooms the castle has: countless suites, studies, libraries, private galleries, and parlors on the third and second floors. From there we descend to the first floor, where they show me the ballrooms and dining spaces where most of the party guests will gather.

“Once all the guests have been greeted, Vawn will withdraw into the Pomegranate Parlor,” Lady Kaenan explains. “There we can reveal his face and speak more openly about political things and future plans. The east hall leads to that parlor, as you know, Vawn. And we have a little surprise for you—we’ve included some special decorations in the hallway for this occasion. You know Heim Cordall, our artist in residence?”

“The fellow with the image projection glyphs?” Vawn asks. He glances at me and explains, “Cordall developed his own unique glyph set which enables him to take what he sees and impress it with perfect accuracy on paper or canvas, just by pressing his hand to the surface. I’ve had the pleasure of re-applying the glyphs for him a few times.”

“I’ve heard of him,” I assure Vawn. “My father took me to one of his live demonstrations, years ago, in Iaris. The way he can copy real-life scenes is astonishing.”

Lady Kaenan nods. “Cordall wanted to thank you for your patronage and your help, Vawn, and he wished to pay tribute to your family as well. He would have stayed to reveal this gift personally, but he has a previously arranged commission today, a wedding at the Oerins’ castle in Ledtia.”

She guides Vawn around the corner. Lord Kaenan gives me an eager smile as we follow them, like I’m in on the secret, part of the anticipated surprise.

The east hall, like the rest of the main level, has wood paneling with a rich golden hue and white marble flooring striated with veins of gleaming aqua. Along the corridor, neatly spaced and enclosed in ornate gold frames, are portraits of the royal family. I recognize the King and Queen, the two older princes, and the two princesses along the right-hand side. The left wall bears smaller portraits of the Arbogast side of the family: uncles, aunts, cousins, and other relatives.

At the bottom of each frame, someone has fastened tiny bunches of fresh violets, the traditional flower of mourning in this kingdom. Dark purple ribbons trail from the small bouquets down to the floor.

Vawn stops short half a dozen steps into the hallway, his shoulders stiffening as he realizes that the corridor has been transformed into a funereal gallery.

“You didn’t have a chance to say goodbye, to bury them, or to mourn them,” Lady Kaenan says, patting his arm. “We thought this would be a lovely way for you and our guests to pay their respects.”

The Lord and Lady have known Vawn longer than I have, but they knew him best when he was young. I know him now, with such instinctive intimacy that I feel the jolt of his shock, his horror. The rigidity of his body isn’t surprise or appreciation—it’s panic. I know it before he looks back at me with a terrible despair in his eyes—a silent cry of no, no, no.

He wasn’t ready for this. Sweet and well-meant though the gesture may have been, my prince was not prepared to see the faces of his assassinated family members on that wall.

“Um, I forgot to tell Vawn something.” I disengage my arm from Lord Kaenan’s and step forward, grabbing Vawn’s wrist. “Glyph-related, very important, we’ll be right back. This is beautiful, by the way.” I gesture to the pictures. “Such a kind and thoughtful tribute. One moment, please.”

I pull Vawn around the corner and hurry him through the rooms we just traversed. I’m not even sure where we’re going, but I spot a narrow door that looks like a servant’s passage, and I hustle him through it.