Page 49 of Vale of Dreams

Tonight, the courtiers and servants alike will be out to get me.

CHAPTER 17

Haunting music floats through a heavy set of oak doors. Two guards dressed in blue coats flank the doors to the banquet hall. One of them raps his staff, and the doors groan open, wood scraping over stone. In my beautiful new dress, I take a step into the gothic-arched doorway.

As I stand in the entrance, a guard slams his staff against the stone floor. “Miss Nia Vaillancourt, guest of His Royal Highness, Prince Talan, has arrived.”

In the castle’s vast banquet hall, every bright, glittering Fey eye turns my way. The haunting hum of the music fades to silence. Dozens of crystal goblets pause mid-sip as the drinkers stare at me. Moonlight flows in from towering stained-glass windows with images of winged creatures and forest scenes, and the kaleidoscope of light glints off the guests’ heavy jewels.

This hall is the size of a basketball court, with soaring carved stone columns that stretch to a high ceiling. A small orchestra sits in a corner, their bows stilled. Two long banquet tables line the longest walls, with a third connecting them, far at the other side of the hall. Light from candelabras sends gold flickering over a sea of elegant Fey faces, flower crowns, gossamer dresses, and rich brocade jackets.

I take a deep breath. I’m deep in enemy territory. A place I absolutely do not belong.

My heels clack over the flagstones as I cross inside, and my heart pounds while I scan their faces. Spies thrive in the shadows, and here I am, drawing attention like a firefly in the night.

Clearly, the rumors have spread about me.

All eyes are on me—including Talan’s. At the center of the tables, on the far side of the hall, he’s lounging in a chair. His rings and lopsided crown gleam in the candlelight. He wears a black jacket with silver buttons that sleekly fits his muscular body.

For the benefit of the crowd, he’s giving me a smoldering look. His dark gaze sweeps down my body to take in the sheer material, jaw set tightly in contrast to his indolent pose. I know his expression is just a performance, but I suddenly feel acutely aware of my body.

A cool draft whispers over my skin through the translucent fabric of star-woven silk. I take a step closer, and the fabric against my thighs feels like a soft caress. Some in the crowd shift their attention to him, watching him as he stares at me. His gaze brushes up my body again, then locks on my face.

I have no idea where I’m supposed to sit. There’s one empty chair next to Talan, but I assume that’s for the king. This is a level of royal protocol that I didn’t learn at Avalon Tower.

I raise my chin, smiling, and I cross behind one of the tables, heading for Talan.

A murmur ripples over the room.

I keep my eyes on the prince. He’s still striking a louche pose, slightly slouched in his chair. There’s something truly luxuriant about how comfortable he is in his own body. And when he turns and arches an eyebrow at me, his expression is searing. The torchlight dances in his dark eyes like matches burning in the night.

I flutter my fingers in a little wave at him, and I can feel whispers ripping over the crowd of Fey.

As Talan beckons me with a sultry smile, I exhale with relief.

At least I know where to walk now. The music starts to swell again, but I can still feel everyone’s eyes on me with every step.

When I reach Talan, he pulls me into his lap. He sits in a chair large enough to be a throne, and he drapes one of his arms around my waist. I find myself acutely aware of the steely muscles beneath his velvety suit and of the heat radiating from his hand through my thin dress, onto my skin.

From his lap, I cast a look around the banquet hall. As far as the Fey nobility are concerned, I’m a paradox. Thanks to Jasper, I’m wearing the finest clothes, a style and fabric reserved for the upper echelon of the Fey world. The most expensive jewels in the hall. And yet, impossibly, they don’t know who I am. I am a commoner. A nobody. They’re not used to envying people like me.

I suppose that’s why the gossip keeps spreading—the story about how Talan ordered me onto all fours to fuck me in the dirt. It takes the sting off their jealousy.

I glance at him for just a second, and he gives me a wicked smile. “Where did I find you?”

If I didn’t know what he was really like, I might even be charmed by him.

I give him my best flirty look, biting my lip, playing along. I pick up his goblet of mead and take a sip, simpering at him over the rim.

One half of me feels the tangible chill of being unwelcome—the commoner so sexually bewitching that a prince has invited her into the sacred court of Perillos. No one likes an interloper. The other half of me can only focus on the feel of his hand on my waist through the sheer fabric. And when his thumb brushes over my skin, my blood heats. Sometimes, the mind doesn’t know the things the body does.

Talan’s fingers stroke slowly up and down. “Nia, you look delicious tonight. I can almost taste you.”

His voice is low but still loud enough that the people around us can hear him. All part of the performance.

I lift my chin and smile at him. “Thank you. You, too.”

My pulse races, breath quickening. My body only knows that his scent is intoxicating, and he looks like a fucking Adonis.

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