Page 120 of A Thieving Curse

She trembled, preparing to fight him tooth and nail. “You don’t have to do this—”

“I know.” He pressed the talisman into her palm and closed her fingers over it. “I’m not my father. He’s unyielding and merciless, and I’ve tried to be the son he wanted, tried to be like him, but now… I’m not sure I want to be like him. I know I’ve hurt you, and this isn’t enough. But this is me, trying to do better.” He released her hand. “Take it. Hide it so it can’t tempt me.”

Raelyn blinked away the tears blurring her vision.

“I’ll earn your kiss, Raelyn. I’ll win your loyalty and love. And I won’t use dark magic to do it.”

She looked up from her clenched fist to his face. “Are you tricking me? Is accepting this what—”

“No.” Tristan rubbed the back of his head. “I have to hold it over your heart and say an incantation in the Old Tongue. Bury it if you wish.”

They sat there in silence as her breathing normalized. She wanted to toss the stone away. She hated holding it, but she feared if she let it go, Tristan would take it back.

“If you want…” He hesitated. “You can keep it. And if marrying me would be easier if you at least thought you loved me…” His head bowed. “I’ll use it if you ask me to. You wouldn’t remember. But I’d have to live with knowing you didn’t actually choose me.”

Love is a choice.

“And if the Court sides with Alex?” she ventured.

“They won’t.”

His certainty chipped away at her heart. “But if—”

“I will respect the Court.” Tristan stood. “But I’ll wish I had used that charm.” He bowed and left the room.

Raelyn opened her fist, revealing the rune-lined surface of the red stone. She threw it, and it bounced across the rug. She buried her face in her arms and cried.

41

TRISTAN VISITED HER again the next day and asked her to walk with him in the gardens. They made half-hearted conversation about the trees and flowers and the weather. But he didn’t try to kiss her or even hold her hand, and he didn’t mention Alexander or the stone, so it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

But it only made her miss Alex more.

The following day the Court of Lords gathered. Nobles of varying titles from duke to lord had started arriving the prior evening, and the courtyard was hectic all morning as more arrived. Gareth overheard that only a handful of lords had sent word they were unable to answer the summons.

Raelyn picked at her dinner with her family before the meeting. After they ate, Mother fussed over how everyone looked—straightening accessories and smoothing down hair—especially Raelyn. One way or another, Raelyn would marry Rethalyon’s crown prince, and she should look like a queen.

Mother had chosen a dress from Raelyn’s trunk that featured a high-collared white underdress with fitted sleeves long enough to hide the chafe marks on her wrists. A two-tone overdress of ruby and crimson opened down the middle, revealing the underdress and its silver, crimson, and gold embroidery. Split ruby sleeves trailed from her shoulders. And hidden inside the matching wide belt around her waist was a flat stone engraved with ancient runes.

Half of Raelyn’s hair was woven into an intricate labyrinth of braids and crimson ribbon on her head, and the rest curled down her back. Mother picked out a tiara of swirling gold wire set with a single small ruby. As she looked at her reflection, Raelyn wished she could have shown the tiara to Lucas.

“Tell the truth, but be tactful,” Father instructed. “Make Alexander look as good as you can but avoid insulting Tristan or Henry. If you talk about Alexander’s claims, be clear that you are a conduit, not an originator, of these accusations. You need to be as inoffensive toward King Henry and especially Prince Tristan as possible in case this doesn’t go how you want.”

She nodded numbly.

Around twenty-five Rethali lords were seated on long benches in the great hall when Raelyn and her family arrived through a side door. At the head of the hall, facing the lords, stood a double dais with a lower and higher level. An ornately carved and gilded throne sat empty on the top level. Two smaller thrones were placed on the lower dais beneath it. Three ordinary chairs stood clustered at the far end of the lower dais. But that had to mean—

“Your Excellency.” The Carbreys’ steward bowed to Father, then turned to bow to Mother and Gareth. “Your Majesty, Your Grace. If you three will follow me.”

Raelyn grabbed Gareth’s hand in a panic, wondering why she hadn’t been addressed, but then Sir Prescott bowed to her.

“Your Grace. Please wait here.”

Gareth gave her a weak smile that didn’t ease her nerves and followed their parents and Prescott, his hand slipping away. Raelyn stood uncomfortably by the closed door as her family sat in the three chairs. She eyed the two smaller thrones and resisted the urge to fidget with her hair.So that’s how they’re going to play this.Henry would try to gain the advantage by presenting a carefully orchestrated image to his people.

The gathered lords conversed, many looking at her. She kept her gaze locked straight ahead on a stained-glass window of a rose bush and tried to ignore them. None of them had seen her before, and their fascination was clear. Raelyn found herself thankful for all of Mother’s primping.

The door behind her opened. She stood still and regal, not deigning to look back to see who’d entered. Tristan stepped up next to her. He wore a cobalt vest over a matching long-sleeved linen shirt and tight black trousers. A silver-stitched red sash hung across his chest. A silver circlet set with three oval sapphires rested on his brow.

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