Page 101 of The Throne Seeker
Rose saw him first, already dancing, his messy blond hair giving him away. He was wearing a striking ruby red tunic,looking as handsome as ever. His partner was dressed in a beautiful green gown, her brown hair curled in ringlets around her petite face. It took Rose a moment, but she realized it was Princess Satin.
Of course it was.
“It looks like the negotiations are going well,” Rose stated dryly, plucking a shrimp off the tree-like glass tower sitting at the center of the hors d’oeuvres table.
Her mother pursed her lips. “I know he only has eyes for you, but I admit… she’s becoming quite the nuisance.” She eyed the foreign princess like she was an invasive insect.
Rose raised an eyebrow playfully. “You surprise me, Mum. That isn’t very ladylike of you to say.”
Her mother waved her comment off. “Poppycock.” Her mother’s eyes brightened as a mischievous smile spread onto her face. “Why, I think I see a handsome man coming your way, Rosalie.”
She turned and spotted Grant coming straight for her, his green tunic matching his emerald eyes. Despite his defeat, he held himself high, inclining his neck with a small bow.
“Good evening. Evelyn. You look as radiant as ever.”
“Oh, you use my love of flattery against me.” Her mother blushed, smoothing her hair.
Rose fought a harsh laugh. So easily won over by compliments. But he was right. Her mother could woo many hearts if she wanted to.
Grant’s green eyes zeroed in on Rose, devouring her form-fitting dress. Seeing as how the council had seen her nearly naked, her mother no longer saw a need to hide her frame. But now that she thought about it, she wondered if her mother had intentionally chosen the dark-purple dress as an intentional flaunt to Tristan. A true partner in crime.
“Would you care to dance, Rose?” Grant’s voice drawled, a large grin sweeping across his face. “Your lover seems busy at the moment.”
Her eyes slid to Tristan, the scene of him dancing with Satin only fueling her fire.
She took the hand he held out. “I’d be honored,” she accepted with a plotting smile of her own.
Grant guided her to the dance floor, merging into a sea of couples. As they moved, she locked eyes with Tristan, then deliberately redirected her attention to Grant, knowing it’d drive him mad.
Grant led her across the shiny marble floor, drawing her in so close she could feel his crisp breath on her face. Her breath hitched, and he smirked.
“I’m glad to see you’re alright. You had me at my wits’ end on that fish hook.”
She raised an eyebrow, nearly forgetting how half the court had almost witnessed her near death. “Careful, Grant. I might start thinking you actually care.”
“I don’t usually,” he admitted, then a sliver of humanity shone through. “But when I saw you fall into the water… I found out how much I do care.”
Her cheeks flushed at the rare sentiment.
His jewel-like eyes gleamed and he gave her a sly smile, proud he’d left her speechless. “You look stunning, by the way,” he whispered into her ear. “I’ve always known you were beautiful under all that extra fabric, but gods, you are exquisite.”
She hid her deepened blush by gifting him a sly smile of her own. “I may have alternative motives.” She winked at him, knowing if Tristan was watching, the gesture would make him writhe.
Grant gave her a rakish grin. “Dressed for revenge, I see. Oh, I believe I like you on my side.” He spun her around, the fabric of her dress following her movement.
Rose returned from the spin, and he pulled her even closer than before, pressing her body flush with his as he lowered his voice. “I know what happened with Zareb… I feel I should tell you—I’m partly to blame. I had kept my word to you, and intended to keep it, but after the succession announcement, Tristan came to me, going on about how he would ruin me, threatening to take my title away. No matter what I said or did, I couldn’t dissuade him. He forced me into a corner, and I couldn’t take the fall for it. I’m sorry I had to tell him the truth. But I didn’t tell him it was Zareb. He figured that out on his own.”
The repressed anger burning in her belly flared. Why did Tristan hate her training so much? What about it was so horrible? Was it really her learning how to fight?
Or was it something else entirely?
“I understand,” she said, “I shouldn’t have asked it of you in the first place.”
Grant’s stubborn head shook sharply. “Tristan had no right,” he stated in the most bold yet sincere voice she’d ever heard from him.
She gazed at him with gratitude and chose to reward his kindness.
She lifted her arms to encircle his neck, drawing him closer so their bodies met, allowing him to rest his forehead gently against hers.
