Page 18 of The Faceless Mage

But the look in his eyes…

He didn’t believe her.

Eventually, the prince and his father would discover whatever it was Evaraine was hiding and command the Raven to kill her.

He had no business wondering about her secrets. And there wasn’t enough left of his soul to commit any part of it to searching out the reason for his fascination.

It would only destroy him further when he was forced to take her life.

The Raven snuffed out his curiosity and every other feeling that had somehow been given life by this strange, contradictory princess.

And then he disappeared back into the shadows where he belonged.

There was no longer any place for him among the living, and he would do well to remember it.

Chapter 6

The Raven had disappeared. Again. Without a single sound or clue as to where he’d gone.

Leisa decided to be grateful. His absence meant that she was able to draw a steady breath as Vaniell led her out from behind the pillar in the direction of his parents.

As they walked, she looked around, suddenly observing that her fears had been realized—her honor guard was nowhere to be seen. “Where are my guards?” she blurted out, not recognizing until after she’d said it that the words would make her sound uneasy. “My honor guard was to be here this evening, I’m quite sure. Were they not informed, or has something happened?”

“Oh, nothing of consequence,” Prince Vaniell returned easily, just as a short, stocky man in uniform strode up and bowed deeply to them both.

The prince introduced her to one of the three generals of Garimore’s army, then a duke, the duke’s daughters, a marquess and his wife, and before long, Leisa completely lost track of how many people had approached them requesting an introduction.

She might have only imagined the parade to be never-ending, but she did not imagine the calculating glances, the sly smiles, the amused pity, or the occasional outright hatred. Some of her new acquaintances were undoubtedly hoping to use her, and some were amused at Prince Vaniell’s predicament. Some seemed to think he deserved it, and some seemed to think he deserved better. The latter were mostly the younger, female members of the court, none of whom, Leisa reminded herself, were wearing more flounces than she was. For whatever that was worth.

But it was the last of them who speared Leisa with her eyes and came close enough to conceal her hands before grabbing Leisa by the wrist and yanking her forward.

“He ismine,” the young woman hissed in Leisa’s ear. “He has been mine since we were born, and no alliance can change that. Especially not with a weak, pitiful kingdom of mage-lovers that will soon be…”

Vaniell yanked Leisa back with more force than was strictly necessary.

Too soon. She desperately wanted to know what the other woman thought was about to happen to Farhall.

“Perhaps, Lady Marceline, you would care to sample the air on the terrace,” the prince said sharply. “I hear it is fresh and quite… healthy. Unlike the air in ballrooms.”

Marceline’s face paled visibly at the threat, and she backed away. Her eyes were still angry, but she was obviously wise enough not to press the matter further.

“I do apologize,” Vaniell murmured, his gaze following the other woman through the crowd. “I fear I have waited too long to act, but that’s easily remedied. Come.”

He took Leisa’s hand and basically dragged her across the ballroom until they reached the dais where King Melger and Queen Portiana held court. His father frowned, but Vaniell only paused long enough to release Leisa’s hand before he approached the throne and whispered in his father’s ear.

There were a tense few moments, punctuated by grunts and then thoughtful glances as the prince continued to whisper.

Eventually, the king rose to his feet and clapped his hands once.

That was all it took. The ballroom fell silent, which did nothing for Leisa’s nerves. Whatever was about to happen, she was pretty sure she wasn’t going to like it.

“It has come to my attention,” the king said in booming tones, “that there is some unease over my choice of a bride for my youngest son.” He paused, and his brows lowered. “I wish to be clear on this point—I do not care.”

One might have heard a butterfly flapping about the room. No one dared even the slightest whisper, least of all Leisa.

“Those whose opinions matter have been consulted, and you are required only to submit to my decisions as a mark of your fealty and respect.”

She heard the unspoken “or else” about the same time she heard the tiniest intake of breath from the crowd and felt a renewed sense of unease from behind her right shoulder.

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