Daughter of the Disgraced King (2 page)

Ailsa moved her head carefully. She knew the jeweled coil
held her blonde hair securely, but it still felt strange to have it twisted up
so high on her head. The arrangement was meant to make her look taller than she
really was. She angled her head to get a look down at her dress.

The sapphire-blue gown was part of the new wardrobe
specifically purchased for her trip to the imperial capital. It clung lovingly
to every curve, except where it left the pale skin of her neck bare—almost down
to her cleavage.

Ailsa had grown up knowing that what was expected of her was
to go unnoticed as much as possible. Don’t stand out. Don’t answer back. Don’t
make herself a target. It had become second nature, by now. She was used to
gowns that allowed her to fade easily into the background.
This
was
about as far from that as it was possible to be. What, exactly, was she
supposed to be fishing for, wearing a gown like this in the capital? Or here,
for that matter.

Seemed her mother had assessed the chances that any young
man of Far Terra would ever be brave enough to ask her to marry him and hoped
she’d have better luck in the south. That wasn’t what Ailsa wanted—to move
south and never come back. She wanted to learn how to make things better
here
.
That was the whole point of going to the Institute of Magical Arts. Maybe she’d
just forget to pack this gown in the trunk to be sent on ahead of her. No. Mama
would just send it on by the next coach.

“Are you ready, dear?” her mother called from the hallway.

Too late to change into one of her old, comfortable gowns.
Ailsa drew a deep breath, which had alarming effects on the upper portion of
the gown. A pink flush covered all that exposed skin at the way the gown
tightened around her breasts. She expelled the breath before answering. “Yes,
Mama. Coming.”

Mama looked her up and down and smiled. “You look lovely,
dear. Quite grown up.”

Ailsa didn’t feel that grown up. Not nearly as grown up as she
had that morning, riding. Somehow this gown made her feel like a little girl
playing dress up. She had to fold her hands in her lap to keep them from
fidgeting with the neckline of the gown during the very short carriage ride to
the palace. Silly, really. It wouldn’t take any longer to walk, but Mama and
Papa always insisted on the carriage.

Stepping down out of the carriage, Ailsa smoothed her gown
down and straightened her back. She didn’t dare take another deep breath, no
matter how much she wanted to. Then she followed her parents into the grand
hall. They had to pause a moment inside the great bronze doors to let their
eyes adjust. The light was dim at this end of the room, provided by just a few
torches in wall brackets. At the far end of the room, where the king sat on a
raised dais, huge standing candelabras cast a much brighter glow, so that
walking down the length of the hall was like approaching the altar of some
deity. King Ewart did love spectacle and to be at the center of attention.

The dance floor cleared as they advanced down the long room
toward the dais. Everyone moved away from them, some even averted their eyes,
afraid to even appear to be on friendly terms with the ex-king or his family. Even—or
maybe especially—the ones who had once supported her father before Papa
abdicated to marry a mage. Among the others, King Ewart’s staunchest allies, a
disparaging murmur flowed down the room along with them.

Ailsa tried to ignore Cergio’s low whistle as she passed,
though she felt her face flush. She did smile at the look of frozen . . . rage
on the face of one of the girls, however. Those two things alone were more
attention than she usually got at one of these balls. Generally, she and her
parents were all but invisible, at least once they’d paid their respects to the
king. Ailsa liked it that way. She was used to it and it was much less
dangerous than attracting too much attention from the king.

Papa led them up the length of the room, Mama on one arm and
Ailsa on the other, to the foot of the dais, where the king sat. Sav, as usual,
stood behind his father. It was the proper place for the crown prince—and as
far away from the swirling crowd as he could get. Ailsa curtsied with as much
dignity as she could manage, while trying to keep from showing too much of that
low-cut neckline. Out of habit, she avoided meeting the king’s eyes. King Ewart
always looked like he’d tasted something bad when her family showed up at one
of these balls, but he’d look even worse if they didn’t properly show their
deference to him. As she rose, she looked to Sav. He was staring at her with a
half-strangled look on his face. His eyes were practically popping out of his
head and they were not focused on her face. Ailsa suppressed a smile. Maybe
this dress wasn’t so bad after all.

The ritual of obeisance done, Ailsa followed her parents off
to the side of the royal dais. Once again, the barons and their wives and
daughters moved aside to give them plenty of room. Bizarrely, some of the
barons’ sons followed her with their eyes instead of stepping away. It made her
want to duck and hide behind her father’s solid form, but she forced herself to
stand straight and walk with her head high.

They’d barely reached the edge of the still mostly-empty
dance floor when Perion appeared at her elbow. “Care to dance?”

Ailsa held out her hand and allowed Perion to lead her out
onto the floor. “I thought you had your eye on Delea.”

“She’s not here yet,” Perion answered with a grin. “And I
wanted to claim my dance before everyone else mobs you.”

Ailsa made a face. No one but her few friends ever danced
with her. Her father’s ambiguous position in the court made that certain. Even
Perion usually only danced with her when his mother prodded him into it. It was
more a duty as her cousin than because he wanted to. “You’re crazy.”

“No, I’m not. Not with you looking like that. Right now,
every man in the room is watching us.”

The last notes of the dance were still reverberating when
Sav appeared at Ailsa’s side. “You promised to dance with me tonight.”

Perion bowed and flashed an I-told-you-so grin at her. Ailsa
let Sav take her hand and lead her into the next dance. Perion was crazy. Sav
always asked Ailsa to dance. It didn’t mean anything.

Something was strange about the lighting tonight, because
Sav’s eyes, which she knew to be green, looked almost black, as if there was no
colored iris at all around his pupils. Sav was less talkative than usual, too.
Maybe he wasn’t feeling well. They had three dances before someone else claimed
her. Ailsa spun around the room in five more dances, with five different
partners. She’d never danced this much and she was beginning to feel hot and
just slightly dizzy when Sav took her hand again.

“You look like you could use some air,” he said.

“Yes, please,” Ailsa answered a little breathlessly. She
tugged covertly at the top of her gown. That last dance had been . . .
energetic. Everything was still in place, but she didn’t like to think about
splitting a seam, or worse.

Sav smiled. “Perhaps a short walk in the garden.”

Ailsa looked around the room. A disturbing number of the
young men were still watching her. She suppressed a shudder. She was starting
to feel like a lamb under the scrutiny of a pack of wolves. Elina and Delea,
two of the girls who’d been most persistent in flirting with Sav and Cergio,
were looking daggers at her, too. “Maybe that’s a good idea.”

They walked in silence down the fragrant garden paths, lit
by occasional torches, while Ailsa slowly relaxed. She sighed and breathed in
the scents of the garden. They passed through the rose garden maze—hardly a
maze, since the bushes were little over waist high, but it had been more
mysterious once, to an eight-year-old. Sav had been taller, even then, as well
as more than a year older. She’d had to be creative and willing to dare the
thorns to successfully hide from him. She smiled at the memory.

“Better?” Savyon asked.

“Yes, thanks to you. That was getting to be a little
overwhelming.”

Sav executed a little bow without breaking stride. “My
pleasure, milady. It’s about time you were the belle of the ball. Except that I
want to be the only one dancing with you while the other men watch and hate me
for monopolizing you.”

Ailsa laughed. “You just don’t like having to dance with
girls who’re trying to flirt with you.”

Beyond the roses, a line of flowering trees marked the edge
of the small patio at the far end of the garden. A pair of stone benches faced
each other across a small fountain. The splashing of the water masked the
sounds of the gala behind them. The patio seemed roofed with a million
glittering stars. Sav guided them to the nearest bench and sat down beside
Ailsa.

The last of the tension drained from Ailsa’s body. She
leaned back to look up at the starry sky. “I haven’t been down here since . . .
Oh, since we used to play hide-and-seek here, I suppose. I’d forgotten how
lovely it is.”

“It can’t compare to you.”

Ailsa lightly tapped his hand where it lay on his leg, close
by her own. “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment.”

“I know. Ailsa . . . I . . . I want to ask you something.”

Ailsa looked down from the sparkling sky and met Sav’s eyes.
He was doing it again. Stammering. “You’ve always been able to talk to me about
anything, Sav.”

“This is different. I . . .” Savyon rubbed the back of his
neck. “Seventeen desert hells! I wanted to do this elegantly, to be worthy of
you, but I’m just no good at that. I’m going to have to just say it.” He
gritted his teeth before rushing on. “Ailsa, I love you. Will you marry me?”

Ailsa gasped. The stars seemed to spin above her. She’d
swear her heart stood still for a beat and then began to pound. She could hear
the blood rushing in her ears. She couldn’t have heard him right, could she? As
many times as she’d dreamed of Sav noticing her as more than just a friend,
more than just someone to dance with to hold off the girls who wanted him for
his position and future power, she’d never once thought of
this.
She
felt utterly unprepared for it.

“Say something!” Sav begged. His hands gripped his knees so
hard that the knuckles were turning white and his eyes were unnaturally bright.

Ailsa had to swallow twice before she could find her voice. “I
. . . don’t know what to say. This . . . You never gave me any reason to expect
this.” Her hand found one of his and pried it loose from his knee. “Sav, you’re
my best friend.”

He grasped her hand almost as tightly as he had clutched his
leg a moment earlier. “Can’t I be both?”

Could he? What a comfortable and comforting marriage that
would be, with her best friend—if her best friend had been anyone
but
the crown prince. “I . . . don’t know.” Her eyes focused on Sav’s lips. What
would it be like to kiss Sav? She’d wondered before, but now Ailsa had to find
out. She freed her hand and pulled his face down to hers. Sav held his breath.
Ailsa sucked in a deep breath for courage and put her lips to his.

His mouth was warm and soft beneath hers. A frisson went
down from her lips all the way to her toes, spreading heat along with it. As
natural as a rosebud opening in the sun, her lips parted. His did, too, moving
slowly against hers. His arms came up to hold her close to him. He tasted of
salt and faintly of some sweet wine he must have drunk while she was dancing
and of a titillating essence that was all Sav. She wanted it to go on forever
and at the same time felt she couldn’t catch her breath. She needed air. She
needed time. This was all moving much too fast. She sat back, breaking off the
kiss. “Oh.”

Sav searched her face. His shoulders sagged. “No good?”

Her hand rose to her throat. Had she done something wrong? True,
she didn’t have much experience at kissing. “What made you think that? Didn’t
you like it?”

“I’ve never felt anything like it, but . . . you have the
strangest expression right now. I can’t tell . . .”

Ailsa’s smile was a little shaky. “I feel like I could float
up to the top of that tree if you weren’t holding me down to earth. My lips are
still tingling. And my toes, for some reason. I . . . Oh, Sav,
why
did
you wait until three days before I leave for Terranion?”

One side of his mouth twitched up. “If you hadn’t been about
to leave, I wouldn’t have had the courage to risk . . . to risk . . .”

Sav’s arm was still around her, but she grasped his free
hand. “Driving me away?”

“Yes.” Sav’s voice was little more than a sigh.

She could see how hard it had been for quiet, reserved Sav
to take that chance. It wasn’t as if he had a lot of friends either—not real
friends who cared about him, not his position. “That won’t happen, Sav.” She
nestled a little closer and laid her head on his shoulder. She chuckled softly.
“If you only knew how long I’ve wanted you to . . . think of me as more than a
friend.”