Page 80 of Vale of Dreams

“Come in!”

She pushes in, wringing her hands, her forehead crinkled with worry. “He’s on his way. But are you sure this is a good idea? Usually, Jasper is used only during special occasions. Like a royal wedding or engagement. Or a royal birthday. He designed some wonderful clothes for His Majesty’s birthday banquet last year. The nobility are so beautiful, so they’re easy to dress. Of course, the night was marred by all the screaming because some of the demi-Fey were slaughtered and thrown in the Paimpont River. You could hear the commotion from here. And that’s why I don’t drink that river water, not unless you purify it with my grandmother’s special tincture. What you do is you mix garlic with honey…”

My stomach turns at her casual mention of a demi-Fey massacre, and I tune out the rest of her rambling. When Aisling gets nervous, she talks even more than usual.

I’m feeling very uneasy myself. My plan might backfire if I can’t keep this meeting with Jasper a secret. The problem is, Jasper doesn’t strike me as someone who can be trusted to keep silent.

A knock on the door interrupts Aisling’s monologue, and she hurries to open it. Relaxing in my chair, I adopt a nonchalant expression. Just another glorious day at the palace for Nia, the prince’s mistress, who has absolutely no devious plans at all…

Jasper steps inside, rubbing his hands together. “Hello, hello, my lady.”

I’m relieved to see that as I asked, he showed up without his assistants.

Aisling closes the door behind him.

“Hi, Jasper. Come in.”

He folds his arms and leans against a stone column. “You’ve survived so far, my lady, which is very impressive. Some of my mates had a group pool going on. They’re idiots, some of my mates. Don’t know why I waste time with them. Do they really think that Prince Talan would choose someone as his mistress if he didn’t know what he was doing? The man is a genius. And I said to them, no way were you going to end up slaughtered by the end of the week.”

I nod. “You bet correctly.”

His eyes are half-lidded as he nods. “Absolutely.” He points at me, his rings gleaming in the light. “Remind me of your name again.”

“You placed money on me surviving, but you don’t even remember my name?”

He snaps his fingers. “Of course. Nia. Layered like an onion. I did quite well with your dress that night, didn’t I? For your introduction to court. Quite well.”

“It was a beautiful gown.” I tip my head in acknowledgment. “And now I need your help again.”

He clasps his hands together and pouts with feigned sympathy. “Unfortunately, my lady, I’m so overbooked right now. I am the lead creative director of the royal wardrobe, and it’s always the most important royals at the top of my booking list. You know, the king, the viscounts, the earls, that sort of thing. Sorry, my lady.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I’m the prince’s mistress.”

He nods. “That’s right. Which, obviously, is not royalty. One day, if you become his wife, you won’t need to pay me the large retainer required to bump you up on my list.”

I pour myself another cup of tea. “But you know I don’t have a large retainer. I’m the onion girl. So, why did you even bother coming?”

He scrubs a hand over his jaw, considering this. “Well, admittedly, the demand for secrecy sparked my curiosity. That, and there’s been interesting rumors about you in the palace.”

Icy fingers of dread trace up my spine. “What kind of rumors?”

He chuckles nervously and shoves his hands into his pockets. “You know Countess Arwenna de Bosclair of Val Sans Retour? Well, it sounds mad, really, but people are saying that she tried to poison you and ended up drinking her own poison. And I had to know if that was true.”

“And you believe that nonsense?”

“Crazier things have happened, my lady. You deny it?”

I shrug. “If it happened, I was unaware of it.”

“So, onion girl. You’ve survived the palace intrigues for weeks, perhaps bested one of the most cunning noble ladies in the court, and now you want to meet me in secret. I suppose I must know what you have planned.”

“I want to perform a courtship dance for Prince Talan,” I say.

He blinks at me in surprise. “But courtship dances are an ancient, outdated ritual. No one has done one in centuries. Frankly they seem…well, here at court, my lady, they are extremely out of fashion.”

I sigh wistfully. “But I always read about them on my farm and dreamed of performing one. A special private dance, just between two lovers. I understand it’s out of fashion, but that’s why I need your help. Out of all people, you would be able to make it seem fashionable again. A revival of sorts. You could give this ancient ritual a modern, stylish twist. Imagine if this goes well. It’ll be the talk of Corbinelle. A spectacle. Not just Corbinelle—the talk of all Brocéliande. The courtship dances are back, and the first one was created by none other than the creative genius Jasper Laval.”

“Go on,” he says slowly.

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