Page 80 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

“No, only that you and an escort have been invited to attend a meal in the great hall,” he informs me, pulling a card from one of his pockets and handing it to me. I can’t read it, but I trace my finger over the embossed letters. Taking the card from my grasp, he slides it back into his pocket before lowering his voice even more. “Although the rumour mongers say it’s to do with Prince Rhydian choosing a wife.”

My gut clenches, as his explanation matches with what Jayne told me.

They’re just rumours. It could be for any other reason,I tell myself, my palms sweaty as I try to calm my racing heart. Unfortunately, it doesn’t help reassure me much considering the recent, violent events that had taken over the castle.

“If that’s true, then why have I been invited?” My voice rises as I become more nervous. Wilson squeezes my hand and gives me a reassuring smile.

A young lady and a man I assume is her father exit a door just ahead of us, greeting us with a nod. I don’t recognise either of them, although they must have been at the same events as us. Wilson slows his steps and we wait for them to move farther down the hall before I speak again, leaning in close.

“Does the prince know about me? Why would he ever want to choose an ex-slave?”

Wilson shrugs his shoulders at my questions with a thoughtful expression. “Perhaps, but maybe he’s just rebelling against his father? What better way to do that than to invite the most wildly inappropriate woman? Or perhaps they want to keep an eye on you?”

That makes sense. While the king knows, he might not have told Rhydian about my past. After all, Jacob doesn’t know who I really am, so it could be possible that the crown prince doesn’t either. All I know is that I don’t want to be anywhere near the princes, they are dangerous.

What about Jacob?

Unease twists my stomach again. I like Jacob, and I’ve come to care for him. He is kind and sweet, nothing like his father who enslaved me. While he might not have been directly involved, he only noticed me when I became ‘Lady Clarissa.’Does being related to my captor make him my enemy? Frowning, I shake my head at the thought. No, Jacob isn’t my enemy, he’s my friend. He can’t help who his father is, after all, only his actions can dictate who he really is.

If he’s your friend, if you trust him, you should be able to tell him who you truly are. Vaeril knows, even Tor knows, and you barely know him.My nagging doubt creeps back in. Could I tell Jacob about my past? About who I really am?

Thankfully, I’m saved from answering myself as we enter the main walkways of the castle and see the other young ladies being escorted towards the hall. Guards line every hallway, theirshrewd eyes watching us with their hands hovering over their weapons.What do they think is going to happen? That one of the ladies will pull a weapon from their skirts?Snorting at the thought, I quickly smooth my expression when Wilson glances over with a questioning expression, but I can see how tense he is.

The atmosphere is heavy, which is something I wouldn’t expect for a normal evening banquet. I’ve not attended many, but there’s usually an air of excitement as everyone mingles and admires each other’s expensive outfits. This feels very different. Everybody is wearing a smile, but their faces are tight and their eyes wary as they circulate, as if no one knows who they can trust anymore.

Reaching the large, wooden double doors which lead into the hall, Wilson pauses, places his hand on my arm, and pulls me into one of the little alcoves built into the stone. Looking up, I take in his grim expression. He seems older tonight, dressed in his ceremonial uniform, and I remember he’s an accomplished magician, not just my goofy friend. Although I wish Grayson was here, I’m truly grateful Wilson is with me.

“I don’t know what’s going on or why we are here tonight, but I can’t shake this feeling that something bad is going to happen,” he murmurs quietly, talking quickly as he glances around, ever conscious that we’re being watched. Thankfully, no one seems to be paying us much attention at the moment, but I know it won’t stay that way for long. My gut concurs, something is afoot, and my Goddess mark starts to tingle with her agreement.

“But, Clarissa…” His voice changes, catching my attention. His gaze is intense, and he places his free hand on my shoulder as he speaks. “Whatever happens in there, I will protect you to the best of my abilities, I promise.”

My throat goes tight and my eyes prick with unshed tears. Not caring where we are or who’s watching, I throw my arms around him and pull him in for a hug.

“Thank you,” I mumble into his chest, the only words I have to express how grateful I am to have him in my life. I’m not sure how long we stay like that for, I’m sure it’s only a couple of seconds, but it feels longer, and I hadn’t realised how much I needed that bit of reassurance.

Pulling away from me gently, Wilson smiles and offers his arm to me once more. “Are you ready, Lady Clarissa?”

I know what he’s doing. He doesn’t need to address me as ‘lady,’ and he’s not doing it for anyone else’s benefit either, but to remind me of the role I’m playing. He’s warning me that while I let my guard down just then, and I can’t afford to do so once we step into that hall. Taking a deep breath, I accept his offered arm and nod.

“Yes, thank you, Mage Wilson.” I flash him a small smile as he rolls his eyes at my formal retort. Stepping out into the main flow of people, we follow the trail of nobles into the great hall. Two of the usual, long banquet tables are parallel to each other, but the others have been removed, leaving a large space in the centre of the room. Although the tables are set, no one has taken a seat, instead all mingling at the back of the hall in small groups. As I look around, my suspicions are confirmed when I see mostly young ladies chatting excitedly with their fathers.

A flash of auburn hair is all the warning I get before Aileen appears in front of us, her out of breath father following closely behind.

“Thank the Mother you’re here!” she announces loudly, and people around us turn to watch with distasteful frowns. “If I had to put up with any more babbling from those moronic ladies, I think I might resort to murder.” I struggle to hide my grin, but see that Wilson doesn’t bother, his delighted laugh echoing noisily around us. Aileen’s father lets out a long-suffering sigh before turning to face us with a polite smile.

“Mage Wilson, I am pleased to see you here tonight.” His accent is even thicker than Aileen’s, but he looks exactly like an older male version of her. They’re both wearing the same blue and green checked type fabric, Aileen’s like a sash across the bust of her deep green dress, and her father is wearing what looks a lot like a skirt. I make a note to ask Wilson about that later.

“Lord Bastian, it’s good to see you.” Turning from the man, Wilson addresses his daughter. “Lady Aileen,” he greets formally with a dip of his head, but I can see the grin playing on his lips. After a second of the two staring at each other, I clear my throat and he chuckles before looking back to Lord Bastian. “You’ve met Lady Clarissa.”

The lord turns his attention to me, smiling warmly. “It’s lovely to see you again, Lady Clarissa. My daughter has been causing quite a fuss about having to attend ‘yet another ball,’” he teases. Chortling, he places his hand on his stomach as he laughs. It’s the kind of laugh that incites you to laugh also. Once he’s calmed himself, he gestures for Aileen to come forward and join him at his side.

“It’s lovely to see you again as well,” I reply. I have no idea how to formally greet people, it’s not something I’ve had to do much of, but with his big, friendly smile, I realise I like him. “Please, just call me Clarissa.”

Aileen has been watching our whole conversation with a quirk of her lips. “I told you she’s not like the others, Pa.”

Lord Bastian looks like he’s about to say something else, but a loud banging on the floor causes a hush to fall across the hall. Everyone instinctively clears a space, turning towards the sound which is coming from the doorway.

“Please stand for the entrance of the King, and Princes Rhydian and Michael of Arhaven,” the steward announces loudly, and everyone watches in silence as our rulers make theirway to their thrones at the other end of the hall. The atmosphere is tense, and from the shuffling of their feet and anxious expressions, I get the impression half of the attendants don’t want to be here.

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