Traitor, page 8
“I am most happy to be here.” I held back the instinct to wince against the falsehood.
The emperor descended from the dais. “I am Emperor Tertius, and this is my wife, Nadia.”
The petite woman glided down the stairs to take her husband’s offered hand.
“I am sure our daughter Dionne is eager to make your acquaintance.” He gestured to a girl several years my junior who dipped into a curtsy before turning her wide dark eyes to me. “But no doubt you are most interested in meeting our son, Vander. Your fiancé.”
My throat convulsed. My fiancé. Of course everyone in the room, everyone in our respective countries, knew the purpose of my journey to Delunia. Yet I felt exposed, as though my innermost secret had been shouted from a rooftop.
Attempting to swallow, I turned toward the footsteps padding down the stairs on the emperor’s other side. Vander lowered into a shaky bow before extending a hand to me.
Panic set my veins to boiling. What was I supposed to do now? Were there Delunian customs between engaged couples I knew nothing about?
I crept forward and dipped into a slight curtsy. After grasping my skirt one last time in a desperate attempt to dry my sweaty palm, I placed my hand in his.
He lightly pressed my fingers before dipping his head to place a kiss on my knuckles. His arm trembled as he released my hand. He raised his head, and our gazes finally collided.
Vander was stocky, only a few inches taller than me. His dark hair was cropped shorter than his father’s, his wide forehead and square jawline unremarkable. Only the deep brown of his eyes held the slightest appeal.
A thread of disappointment wove its way into my mind before I cut it short. It didn’t matter that Vander was plain. In fact, it was preferable. The less romantic draw I felt toward this man, the better.
Unfortunately, Vander didn’t seem affected by the same indifference. A slight smile curved his lips, and his admiring gaze darted away and back to my face again and again. “It is my greatest honor to at last make your acquaintance, Princess Penelope.”
I kept my breaths shallow to hold back a sigh. “The pleasure is mine, Prince Vander.”
Chapter 9
“What shall we dress ye in today, m’lady?” Victoria bustled about my room, unpacking trunks we hadn’t gotten to the night before.
I sat on the edge of my mattress, unable to clear the haze from my mind.
The room was large, white on three walls with the fourth painted sea blue. Small bulbous lanterns dangled from the ceiling, and violet curtains hung in thick swaths on either side of the window. Gold filigree lined the ornately carved vanity and desk, matching the tall posts on each corner of my bed. All comfortable and luxuriant, but too foreign to put me at ease.
Yet this was the closest I had to a home now.
“Is everything all right, m’lady?” Victoria tilted her head, a gown slung over one arm.
I blinked. I must’ve missed something she’d said. “Yes, of course.” I forced myself to abandon the relative safety of the bed, planting my feet on the soft white rug covering half the floor. “I can’t seem to get my mind to focus this morning.”
Her lips tugged into a concerned frown. “O’ course ye can’t.” She laid the dress on the bed and grasped my arm. “This is all very new, m’lady. Give yourself time.”
Tears flooded my vision, as unrelenting as they were unwelcome. I pressed my eyes closed and turned away.
Victoria patted my back. “Cry all ye want. No one’s here but me, and I don’t mind a bit.”
I glanced to her, blinking rapidly. “Thank you.”
She extended her arms, and without pausing to think it over, I accepted the wordless invitation. She held me close as sobs choked through the tightness constricting my chest and throat. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to be here. No matter how badly I’d destroyed my prospects and reputation, I longed for the familiarity of Trellich. For my family.
Now divided from me by hundreds of miles.
Victoria’s murmurs of “It’s all right, m’lady” and “Ye just have a good cry, miss” continued until, with a few last panting breaths, I stepped back and wiped my eyes.
She handed me a handkerchief, then dabbed her own moist cheeks with her sleeve.
“I’m so grateful you’re here, Victoria.” An unladylike hiccup punctuated my words. “If I were all alone . . .”
“It’s my pleasure, m’lady.” She squeezed my arm. “We’ll get ye through this yet.” Taking my shoulders, she guided me to the cushioned seat before the vanity’s oval mirror. “Now, let’s get ye washed up and dressed before the Delunian royal family thinks ye disappeared into the night.”
I emerged from my chamber, the fog clouding my head thicker than ever. Victoria had applied a cream to my face, claiming it would help reduce the puffiness and swelling. Its fresh scent exuded hints of cucumber and something floral.
I glanced down to the skirt I clutched in my fingers. She’d chosen my deep-red summer dress, saying something about the heat. I shook my head and padded forward. Where was I to—?
“Shall I escort you to breakfast, princess?”
I swallowed a gasp as a guard marched to my side, clad in the same red sash Jac had worn the day before, but without a matching hat. “I—that is, yes. Thank you.”
He bowed and strolled forward, motioning for me to join him. I tried to keep track of our path as we wound through the corridors, but statues and paintings continually stole my attention.
Unlike the muted tapestries covering the walls of the Trellan and Imperian palaces, these halls were filled with colorful paintings and vases. The statues in the larger passages had a certain air of movement to them, eerily lifelike.
A clatter of silverware and excited voices preceded our entrance into what I presumed to be the breakfast room. The cacophony ceased the moment I stepped inside. I smiled my thanks to the guard, who bowed in response. If only I could follow his retreating figure back down the corridor.
Half a dozen expectant faces regarded me as I hovered in the doorframe. Emperor Tertius had said something about hosting guests. Cousins, perhaps?
I took a hesitant step forward, which seemed to rouse the group from their curious stares. Vander jumped from his seat, nearly stumbling in his haste toward me. Emperor Tertius rose as well, along with a man with wavy dark hair and lines embedded in his tan cheeks.
Vander’s smile was warm. “Good morning, Princess Penelope. I hope you slept well and found your rooms comfortable.”
The hope beaming from his face made my insides clench, but I couldn’t help smiling back.
“Good morning. My rooms are lovely, thank you. I’m so grateful for your family’s hospitality.”
He studied my face. “But you do not sleep well?”
“I—” The disconcerting silence pressed in on me, heavy with anticipation. Couldn’t they resume their conversations? “The bed was very comfortable, but I’m afraid I have trouble sleeping in new places.”
Vander’s worried expression eased. “Of course, of course. Let us hope Palati del Chrysos won’t feel new for long.”
“Yes.” With an effort, I kept the corners of my lips angled upward.
He gestured to the table, and I followed to the open seat beside his.
“Good morning, princess!”
I acknowledged the greetings from the rest of the table with a nod. The visitors’ conversation reverted to Delunian as servants offered me platters of egg portions with a potent smell, fruit-filled pastries, and some kind of spiced fish. The food was delicious, though with stronger flavors than I was accustomed to at the morning meal.
Vander glanced my direction several times, seemingly gathering the courage to speak. Perhaps it was my turn to make an overture.
I indicated a triangle-shaped pastry, sprinkled with powdered sugar and filled with an orange jelly. “These are very good. What do you call them?”
“I am glad you like them, princess.” Relief and enthusiasm lit his expression. “Our cook calls them trigonis, though I’m afraid I don’t know how it translates to your language. Perhaps triangle?” His sheepish grin made him appear younger.
“Aptly named, then. What is this fruit?”
“I believe it is mandarin.”
I spooned a bit of jelly into my mouth. “A bit like our oranges, perhaps?”
“Yes.” Vander nodded vigorously. “Though smaller and perhaps more sweet.” He blushed upon catching my eye and returned to slicing an egg on his plate.
At least he’s easy to talk to. Aside from the distance, Papa could’ve chosen worse for me.
Vander shifted in his seat. “Princess Penelope, may I . . .” He swallowed. “Would you allow me to take you on tour of the palace after our meal?”
“Yes, that would be lovely.” No matter how little romance I foresaw in our future, it’d be best if we became accustomed to spending time together.
The others trickled out of the room, bowing or curtsying to me and giving what I assumed were farewells in Delunian. Vander’s parents gave us a nod, his father adding a wink for Vander, then left, trailed by Dionne.
I finished my last pastry in two bites. The room suddenly felt huge and empty, making me uncomfortably aware of Vander’s presence at my side. “Thank you for waiting for me. I apologize I was so late to the meal. I—”
“No need for apologies.” His fingertips grazed my arm in a feather-light touch. “You have much adjustment needed here. And it is my honor to share a meal with you, no matter the time of day.”
If only this poor man were getting a bride who could reciprocate such sentiments. “You are very kind.” I folded my cloth napkin on the table and rose. “Shall we begin our tour?”
“Certainly.”
After a second’s hesitation, I accepted his offered arm. Better to build up some goodwill before announcing I wanted a marriage in name only.
A revelation that was guaranteed to disappoint.
Vander led me through the halls to the palace’s main entryway. Had it been only the day before that Jac had taken Victoria and me across this very room?
According to Vander, every painting and fresco had a story, representing moments in Delunia’s history or popular poems or fables. I smiled, nodded, asked questions. He clearly sought to make me feel at home, but his presentation had quite the opposite effect. With every unfamiliar myth or historical figure, my status as an outsider became more pronounced.
His narrative hit a lull in a comparatively sparse corridor lined with windows on one side.
“You know so much about the artwork in the palace. If you ever have the opportunity to tour my home one day . . . that is, the home I grew up in”—heat stole up my neck into my cheeks—“I’m afraid I won’t be able to tell you half so much about the paintings and tapestries.”
His chuckle was warm and genuine. “Art is most important to Delunians, the expression of ourselves and our people in color, in stories. My schoolmasters insisted I learn the meaning of every one. It is satisfying to at last put such learning to use.” He glanced to me, brows drawn. “I hope I do not bore.”
“Not at all. Though I don’t think your schoolmasters would be impressed by how little I’d remember if we were to revisit the same pieces.”
He patted my arm. “In time, princess. In time.”
A genuine smile curved my lips. “Please, call me Penelope. You are a prince in your own right, after all. No need for formalities.”
“If you wish, Penelope.” He returned my smile, his cheeks darkening red.
We turned a corner into what appeared to be a portrait hall, lined with large gilded frames. I paused to study a painting in which the subject held a trident and seemed to be raising the sea level. Next to it, a woman soared above a battlefield, supported by ivory wings. I scanned farther down the wall, finding each depiction more fanciful than the last.
Not a portrait hall then, yet each figure had such regal bearing, with the black hair, dark eyes, and tanned skin common to Vander’s family.
“This is my great-aunt Agnete.” Vander’s deep voice broke into my reflections. He pointed to the winged matron.
“Your great-aunt? But surely . . .”
“She had no wings.” His laugh echoed across the marble floor. “In your home, artists approach their portraits quite differently, yes? It is easy to forget.”
“Well, yes. We’re usually just sitting and staring forward, perhaps with an occasional smile. They’re rather dull, I suppose.” My gaze moved to a young man atop a horse, clad in armor except for his discarded helmet. I blinked and narrowed my eyes at the familiar face. “That’s—”
“Myself, yes.” Vander lowered his head. “They must seem silly, imagining ourselves as heroes or creatures of fantasy. But no Delunian painter would agree to paint one who just sits on a throne. He must tell a story, to give some drama. The scenes are meant to represent something of our inner selves.”
“You must be considered very brave, then.” He looked quite dashing in the painting, the severe lines of his face more suited to armor than his usual silk robes.
“The pieces are an exaggeration, of course. And the painters, they seek to put themselves in good favor with the royal family.”
“Exaggerated or not, it’s a wonderful painting.” I studied his downturned face until he glanced up and caught my eye.
“Thank you, princess. Penelope.” A hint of a smirk tugged at his mouth. “Perhaps you ought to imagine a scene you envision for a painting of yourself.”
A breathy laugh ruffled the curls at my temples, more rueful than I’d intended. “Ah, but first we must come up with a positive quality to display. I wouldn’t hire a painter any time soon.”
His eyes sparkled with mirth, then softened. “I have not a doubt we will come up with something.”
My stomach turned a half somersault before I clenched my jaw. How quickly I’d let my guard down. Flirtation had no place in this relationship. I loosened my grip on his arm.
No matter how kind and harmless this man might seem, I had to keep my distance.
A knock sounded at my chamber door. I bit back a groan and sat up from where I’d collapsed onto my bed. An entire morning touring the palace followed by lunch in the stifling heat of a third-floor balcony had worn me out.
Not to mention the company of my persistent fiancé.
Victoria opened the door, her tone light and flirtatious with whomever stood on the other side. Likely a handsome guard.
Pressing my eyelids closed against a headache, I rose from the bed and straightened my skirt.
“Oh, princess, yer hair!” Victoria closed the door. “Ye’ve been summoned to dinner, but I can’t send ye lookin’ like that.”
I didn’t have the energy to argue as I slumped into the vanity’s seat.
Victoria’s humming was broken by an occasional “tsk” as she smoothed escaped strands of hair and re-pinned curls.
“There we are.” She smiled at my reflection. “We must keep ye lookin’ the part of future empress, after all.”
Don’t remind me. I stifled a cough. “I suppose.”
Her smile faded. “Cheer up, m’lady. Ye’re off to eat a meal of what’s likely to be the best Delunia has to offer with a family eager to welcome ye.”
Her assessment sent a wave of guilt flooding through my chest. The spoiled princess brought shame upon herself, and the extent of her punishment is to marry a rich, kind prince. Poor thing. Gritting my teeth, I stood. “You’re right, as always. Thank you.”
“If nothin’ else, the guard they’ve sent to escort ye is none too difficult to look at.” She winked, raising a hand to fan herself.
A year before, such a statement would’ve sent me into a fit of giggles and roused an inner challenge to earn the guard’s admiration. My flirtation with Nicholas had begun with just such a comment from Harriet, one of my former lady’s maids.
The churning in my gut warned I wouldn’t appreciate my upcoming dinner, no matter how fine.
Catching Victoria’s worried gaze, I attempted a playful expression as I made my way to the door. “If only I could send you in my place.”
“If only.” She raised her shoulders in an exaggerated sigh.
The guard was indeed handsome, with a hint of curl mussing his dark hair and an expertly trimmed beard lining his jaw.
I ignored him as we made our way to the dining hall, attempting to draw a mental map of our path through the corridors. The winding staircase at the end of the hall renewed the ache in my head as we spiraled down three stories. At the entryway, I marched ahead, determined to make as little a spectacle of myself as possible.
Before Vander could take the place at my side he seemed to think necessary any time we were within the same room, I took the empty seat across from him, next to Dionne. He resumed his chair without complaint, though his smile held a new uncertainty.
“Good evening, Vander. Good evening, Dionne.” After a nod at Vander, I turned to his sister. “Your brother took me on a tour of the palace today. Did your tutors teach you as much detail about the artwork as his?”
Her raised brows bespoke surprise at my attention, but something more calculating sharpened her gaze. “My schoolmaster was same as Vander’s, so yes, we talk much of palace art.” She tipped her head to her brother, then glanced around the room. Leaning closer, she continued, “They do a portrait of myself next year. My hope is they show me on ship, like a—”
She fell silent as raised conversation interrupted her from the hall. The emperor and empress strolled in, followed by one of the couples who’d joined us at breakfast. Dionne sat straighter and folded her hands in her lap.
After exchanging greetings in both Delunian and Sandrinian, the newcomers took their seats, and Tertius motioned for the servers to bring out the meal.
I took a sip from my wine goblet, then turned back to Dionne. “So what was it you were hoping they would select for your painting?”
