Page 50 of A Storm in Every Heart
Before I can answer, a stone drops into my stomach. Around Daemon’s legs, I can see the crowd parting and the shadows of feet coming toward us.Oh my gods, this is not happening.
“Found it,” I exclaim, pretending to reach for something on the ground then shoving my hand into my pocket as I stand straight again. “I dropped my hairpin.”
Daemon rolls his eyes at me, but mercifully doesn’t ask about it as he turns to focus on the approaching prince.
Prince Kastian stops in front of us. He’s dressed far more casually than last night, in blue silk trousers and a loose-fitting white shirt. I raise my eyebrows when I see the edge of a black swirling tattoo on his forearm peeking out from beneath his sleeve. I’ve only ever seen sailors with ink on their skin. I never imagined that a prince might have tattoos.
“Good morning,” Prince Kastian says after a slightly too-long pause.
“Morning,” Daemon says brightly, as if he talks to royalty every day. He should probably bow to the prince, but of course he doesn’t. Instead, he sticks out his hand for Kastian to shake. “Daemon Ashwater, twelfth Baron of Ashwater.”
Prince Kastian looks a bit taken aback, but grips Daemon’s hand anyway to shake. “Pleasure to meet you.” He doesn’t introduce himself, but instead glances over Daemon’s shoulder toward me. “Nice to see you again, Lady Odessa.”
Daemon looks over his shoulder and smirks at me before turning back to Kastian and feigning ignorance. “Oh, have you already met my sister?”
“Yes,” Prince Kastian says at the same time as I say, “No, not really.”
“I think I offended your sister last night,” Prince Kastian says to Daemon. “I just wanted to apologize again.”
Daemon steps out of the way, and both he and Kastian look at me expectantly. I know what I’m supposed to do—I should curtsey and insist that whatever awkwardness took place in the hall last night was entirely my fault. That’s the polite way to handle a situation like this, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
I find myself staring blankly at Prince Kastian, unable to speak even as a voice in the back of my head screams at me to say or do something.Anything.
“Right…” Daemon says, looking bemused. He turns back to Prince Kastian. “Well, Dessa and I were just going to get drinks and sit down. Care to join us?”
I shoot Daemon a deadly glare, which no one seems to notice.
Again, Prince Kastian looks a little startled. Probably he’s too important to sit with lesser nobles. Probably he has to go sit with his fiancée and the other royals. Probably?—
“Alright,” Prince Kastian says.
I jerk my head up, suddenly finding my voice again. “No, you can’t!”
“Why not?” the prince asks.
“Yeah, Dessa, why not?” Daemon asks, smirking.
My cheeks heat. “Don’t you have to sit with your family?”
He shakes his head. “I could, but I don’t have to. If you asked my father, it would probably be better for me to be seen mingling in the crowd.”
I want to ask why he doesn’t want to sit with his fiancée, but I know Daemon will never let me hear the end of it if I do. “Oh, never mind. Sit wherever you want,Your Majesty.”
Prince Kastian smirks, the slightly arrogant look reappearing on his face. “Thank you for your permission. I’d hate to offend you again.”
I turn stiffly back toward the line for lemonade, knowing that anything I say will only make an uncomfortable situation worse.
The line for the lemonade suddenly and miraculously opens up for us, and we collect drinks before the three of us find a spot in the stands, partially shaded by the royal boxes above us, and sit down to watch the race. I expect that the prince’s guards will follow us, but they all seem to try to make themselves scarce.Perhaps that’s how he was able to escape them so easily eight years ago.
Soon, all the seats fill in around us as nobles go out of their way to try to eavesdrop on our conversation with the prince. I can see a lot of them glaring at us, probably wondering why Daemon and I were singled out. I wish I knew.
To my absolute horror, Daemon and Prince Kastian get along immediately.
I don’t know why I would expect anything less—Daemon gets along with everyone and doesn’t seem at all concerned with my extreme discomfort as he chats animatedly to the prince. At least he doesn’t seem likely to reveal our meeting years ago, or my secret girlhood fantasies.
“I’m expecting Seahammer to win,” Daemon says, gesturing at a black horse near the end of the starting line.
“Not Triton?” Prince Kastian nods toward a chestnut stallion near the end. “He’s favored to win.”
