Page 67 of Pretense

“Amirah?”

Jalissa started, blinking up at Merellien. Right. She was still in the middle of the dance with him. “I am sorry, did you say something?”

He shook his head. “You appear lost in thought. Is something troubling you?”

She smiled, and the expression felt far more genuine than it had a moment ago. “Not anymore. I apologize for my distraction.”

Thankfully, the dance ended. Jalissa curtsied to Merellien, then turned and searched the ballroom. She had to find Edmund.

Would he even be willing to turn their relationship from fake to real? Had she pushed him away one too many times?

She did not know, but she had made her decision. If he was willing, she would fight for this relationship harder than anything she had ever fought for before.

There. Edmund stood across the ballroom with both of his brothers.

Jalissa did not care if she appeared less than regal or proper. She strode across the room, ignoring the groups of both elves and humans. As she passed the roped off section, several of the reporters called out to her.

When she reached Edmund’s side, he turned to her, holding out his arm without even breaking his conversation with his brother Prince Julien. As if having Jalissa at his side was the most natural thing in the world to him.

Though, Jalissa probably should not read too much into it. Perhaps it was just all their practice over the past week of pretending to be courting.

King Averett nodded to her. “Princess Jalissa, we appreciate that you have stayed to help smooth things over with the scandal in the papers and the assassination attempt.”

“I am glad that Elspetha has recovered well.” At least, that was what the messages they received from Estyra reported.

Both King Averett and Prince Julien studied Jalissa intently. They had been doing so ever since she and Edmund had started up their fake relationship. Of course his family would wonder what was going on.

But that would soon be over, one way or another. Either Edmund would tell her that he no longer felt the same way, or their fake relationship would become real.

“Edmund.” She switched to elvish, knowing he was the only one of the three who understood it. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

“Of course.” Edmund rested his hand on hers on his arm, nodded to his brothers, then led Jalissa a few feet away. “Is something wrong? Is it the reporters?” His gaze swung in that direction.

“No, I realized something a moment ago. I want to…” She trailed off, taking a deep breath.

But Edmund was frowning, not looking at her.

“What is it?” Jalissa turned to better face the velvet ropes and the pack of reporters.

“I don’t see the head editor for the Sentinel.”

Jalissa’s chest tightened. Had the head editor realized what was going on? There was not much he could do about the raid, but it was concerning that he was no longer in the roped off area.

Edmund steered Jalissa back to King Averett and Prince Julien. When his brothers glanced at him, Edmund tilted his head the way they had come. “The head editor of the Sentinel is missing.”

King Averett’s mouth pressed into a tight line. Prince Julien, his expression mostly hidden beneath his red-brown beard, spun toward the door. “I’ll check with the guards. Edmund, send for information on the raid.”

Edmund gave a sharp nod, stepping away from Jalissa. “I’ll be back shortly.”

All Jalissa could do was nod, not trusting her voice. She had been about to blurt out her love to Edmund, and next thing she knew, they were in the middle of a crisis.

Yet, what else did she expect? This was the kind of life she would have if things worked out between her and Edmund.

As Edmund and Prince Julien strode away, King Averett held out an arm to Jalissa. “Let’s join my wife. It’s up to us to keep up appearances.”

Jalissa pasted on her serene smile and rested her hand on King Averett’s arm. “Of course.” They could not alarm their guests or let anyone know something was going on.

That was the way of a court, no matter if it was a human court, elven court, or a court that was currently hosting nobles from both.

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