Page 15 of The Rose in the Shadows

Clayton’s eyes flashed golden, and I was reminded of the hideous transformation I had seen in the hospital just a day earlier. His jaw twitched in irritation, but the glow from his eyes faded within a moment. I silently breathed a sigh of relief, regretting my words. The last thing I needed right now was to evoke the anger of a prince who didn’t seem to like me much.

“Stand up straight,” he ordered, echoing Dimitri’s advice. Then, wordlessly, he wrapped my hand into his arm. His steps forward were purposeful, and he nearly dragged me across the marble hall. Each inch closer to the golden door at the end of the chamber, and the threat of what lay behind it, had my legs feeling heavy and my head feeling light.

“You are about to be entering the chambers of the Dragon. It is a great honor, and you would do well to mind your tongue. You will curtsy upon greeting the Dragon and his Queen. You will address them as Majesty. Upon greeting the members of the Council, you will bow your head in respect. Iris gave you the speech?”

“Yes,” I mumbled. The notes on it had been sent to my rooms earlier in the day, and I had begrudgingly memorized them.They were thankfully short, but boastful nonetheless. Leave it to a bunch of Royals to claim an attack I didn’t remember was a blessing from the Gods.

“Yes, what?” Clayton barked, his arm stiffening against mine.

I bit down on my lip hard enough to draw blood in my attempt not to flinch away from him.

“Yes, your grace,” I amended.

Iris had also reviewed the basics of palace etiquette while dressing me. The Dragon and his Queen were majesties, Clayton - as the Dragon’s child - was referred to as grace, and the members of the Council were to be greeted as lords and ladies. One should speak only when spoken to in the presence of the Dragon, and a curtsy should be done by sweeping one leg behind the other and bending the knees outwardly. She had made me practice for nearly an hour until I reached the perfect angles. But, of course, that was before they dressed me up in a gown with its own gravitational pull. Surely, the weight of this thing would leave me stumbling before the day was done.

“I recognize this must feel foreign to you,” he admitted, his voice ever so gentler than before. After a moment the harsh mask of indifference settled over his features once more, though. “But when you step onto that terrace, you are no longer the girl on the bridge. You become a representative of this country, and more than justyourlife will depend on how you present yourself. Do keep that in mind.”

“How can I be a representative of a government that holds me captive?” I wondered aloud, words escaping before I could realize they were better kept in my mind.

He moved faster than I would have thought possible. He halted us and grabbed onto my forearm with such force that I wouldn't have been surprised to see bruises forming.

“You killed a man,” he reminded me, ice in his voice. “And yet you dare to stand here upset at your situation. Shall I remindyou that you’re wearing the finest gown in the kingdom while his family mourns tonight?”

Each word slapped against me, and he did little to soften their blow.

“I don’t want the dress,” I whispered, flashes of a family in tears filling my mind.

Clayton laughed darkly, still unwilling to release my arm. “You want to feel sorry for yourself because you killed that man?Thousandsjust like him died in the Great War, and thousands more will again if Promissa senses weakness on our shores. I couldn’t care less if you don’t like the fucking dress. Throwing rouge on your cheeks and shoving you into a gown keeps my people safe. So just do as you’re told.”

With that, he pushed open the heavy door, and we entered the foyer of the Dragon’s private chambers. It was an expansive space with oversized couches and plush armchairs. There was a small bar to our left with a cart of undoubtedly the finest liquor in the kingdom. The amber liquid in the crystal decanter was already dwindling despite the early hour. The lavish doors leading out to a terrace flooded the room with light and a feast of fresh fruits and meats waited for us atop the long dining table at the room's far end. My stomach growled for it, but I held myself back.

Around the room, I recognized the Council members from the day before. Iris had briefed me on them, too, before I left. Rosalia Blackmore of House Delia had her caramel hair slicked back into a tight ponytail. Her gown was bright red to highlight her dark skin tone. They had kept her makeup simple, with little more than a splash of color on her cheeks. Clara Reid of House Palaemon chatted with her quietly in the corner. Clara was an older woman, past her prime from the looks of it. Her hair had long ago grayed, and she wore it close to her chin. Rather than a gown, she donned a long blue tunic over simple leggings andleather slippers. As their conversation went on, Rosalia signaled for Clara to sit, and a servant brought a chair.

Gregory Handel of House Herea had been glancing out onto the terrace, but his eyes flashed toward us as we entered. He was a simple man with nothing entirely eye-catching about him. His brunette hair was cut close to the scalp, and his eyebrows were notably bushy. His tunic was well-tailored, but did nothing to hide his frame’s dreadful thinness. Still, he stood tall as we entered, tightening his hand on his emptied glass.

“She’s here,” he announced to the women, who glanced up silently from their conversation.

The three of them stared, and for a moment, I felt two feet tall.

I don’t belong here.

“Bow,” Clayton whispered to me, and I did as I was told, bowing my head to each of them silently. They notably did not return the favor.

I supposed they could dress me up as much as they wanted, but I wasn’t truly a Council member. Not yet, at least. Perhaps not ever. So, while everyone around the castle might show me feigned respect, the people in this room owed me none.

Truthfully, no one in this kingdom owed me their respect. I hadn't earned it.

“Well, she’s quite pretty,” Clara remarked, her voice unnaturally chipper, given the general feeling in the room. She didn’t notice when Gregory rolled his eyes.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Maybe the kingdom will be so captivated by her beauty that they’ll forget what she’s done.”

I gasped softly, somehow surprised by his brutal honesty, and felt Clayton shift his weight beside me. I instinctively looked toward him, unsure of why I needed his reaction to judge the situation before me, but just knowing that I did. His eyes were flecked with gold. They flashed momentarily, but it was enough for me to notice that he was just as uncomfortable as I was.

“Gregory.” Clayton’s voice was tight, his greeting unkind.

Gregory was silent as he hinged at the waist and bowed to his prince. Rosalia stood and did the same while Clara dipped her head low, remaining seated. I may not get their respect, but Clayton certainly did.

The Dragon came in suddenly from a back hall with the Queen trailing silently behind him. Briefly, I wondered where that dark hall led to. Just how big was this damn castle? How many rooms belonged to the Dragon alone? He carried sheets of paper in his hands and looked over them silently as he sat at the head of the table and began picking at the food. He didn’t acknowledge us, but Clayton pulled me low into a curtsy as everyone in the room around us did the same.

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