Page 65 of Of Song and Scepter
“His Highness is avoiding the question,” Hugo says as he dresses me.
“You’re not good at distractions,” I mutter.
“I’ve known you your whole life. I’ve watched you grow from a carefree guppy sneaking out to play in the reefs into this”—his eyes flick over me—“carefully chiseled image of the crown. That little guppy, so full of light? I’m afraid you’ve snuffed him out.”
“That little guppy wasn’t ready to be king.”
“You hold the weight of a kingdom on your shoulders, and you do it well, Your Highness, because you must. Your mother has been grooming you for the throne for the past decade, even more so since your father’s death three years ago. You are ready,” Hugo insists in a gentle tone, finishing buttoning my shirt.
Even before I marked my third decade and came of age to inherit the throne, my mother shoveled more and more responsibilities into my lap. “I’m more than ready,” I growl.
“Yes. And yet here you are, on the eve of your wedding day, tangling with a female behind the rocks and asking me for a distraction.”
I tug at the collar once more. Anger flares at his implication that Enna is some random female, a simple means of escaping my duties. I bite my tongue to keep my retort unspoken.
“I do not think His Highness can afford any more distractions,” Hugo says. “Do you?”
“This morning didn’t feel like a distraction. It felt like freedom.”
“Ah.” Hugo pinches the bridge of his nose. “Your father said much the same thing to me once.”
I swallow, the familiar hole in my chest reopening at the mention of him. “And what advice did you give him?”
Sadness swims in his soft blue gaze as he whispers, “I didn’t. I should have said something, but I didn’t.”
“What do you wish you’d told him, then?”
“Your father needed more freedom in his life.”
“Hugo, you dirty fish,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder.
The male shrugs, then chuckles softly. “Will yourfreedombe in attendance at the ball tonight?” His eyes sparkle with mischief as he picks up a comb and begins tugging it through my wet curls.
My stomach flutters, a school of guppies battering against the walls of my gut. Surely, Enna will be there.
“I hope so,” I breathe, and the admission lifts a weight from my chest.
The Grand Hall crowds with merfolk nobility, each stuffed into tight, colorful garments as they twirl and dance to the pluck of a string band. As I make my way to the queen on her throne, I scan the crowd, searching for a pale streak of white skin, a mess of black hair. Finding none, I push down my disappointment and greet my mother.
“Lovely ball,” I say to her. It’s true; the evidence of my mother’s efforts fills the room with vibrant color. Large bouquets of flowers post in each corner. Garlands of pink roses drip from the ceiling and twine around the marble pillars, the proof of Lady Myrrh’s vision filling the room with their soft fragrance. The hall’s perimeter lines with rows of tables with food and drink, attracting clumps of laughing guests as they pick at the delicacies.
“She’s not here yet,” my mother whispers, “but don’t upset yourself. If she takes much longer, I’ll send the captain to fetch her. A princess should be on time. Even if her brother couldn’t bother to show.”
I catch a glimpse of her scowl before she hides it behind her careful mask. “You expected Rion to show up?”
“I’m not sure what I expected. An appearance, perhaps? This is the beginning of an alliance, after all.”
“At least he sent a note.”
“The disrespect, after what we’re doing for his kingdom.” My mother sighs. “I’m signaling the captain.”
Nara stands near the punch bowl, helping herself to a scoop of the frothy pink juice. With a lopsided grin on her face, she hands the drink to a female guard, their hands brushing in the exchange.
“The captain is occupied,” I say, smiling to myself.
Just then, the crowd stirs as a guard announces the arrival of the Abyssal Princess. The music lurches to a stop, and the broad sea of faces turns toward the gilded doors, each one lifting to stare as the princess enters the hall.
Aris is a vision in deep pink. She blushes from the crowd’s attention and curtsies with a coy smile. Her gaze finds mine, burning with hunger. Even as my scales prick in warning, my mouth moves into an answering smile. I rise from my chair with stiff limbs and march down the steps. The crowd parts around me, clearing a path to the princess.
