The Keeper's Flame (A Pandoran Novel, #2) (13 page)

He glanced sideways at me.

“What’s in the assembly hall? What was he after?”

“The unity stone.” Dad’s gaze was solemn as he held mine. “And he’ll try again. Let’s hope whatever scared him off this time returns when it happens.”

Chapter 9

The Grand Ball

“C
an’t…breathe…” I said.

My lungs had gone from “slightly constricted” to “I’m about to die of suffocation,” in all of one pull.

“Sorry!” Rhea loosened one of the ties on my back, and I inhaled sharply.

Rhea stopped fiddling with my gown and moved her hands to something safer—my hair.

“Do I really have to wear this thing?” I pulled my strapless silvery dress up, but it slid back down to a level I wasn’t all that comfortable with.

I mean, really, they make straps for this sort of thing!

“Yes, dear, the dance is a major event,” Rhea said. “It’s the time when representatives from each territory come forth and show off their contestants for the games this year.”

“That still doesn’t explain why I have to wear this.” I gestured to my gown.

“It’s very important that you are there, looking every part a princess.” She adjusted a curl on my head and secured it with a silver pin. “There are still many in this world who have not yet seen you, and it’s best you make a lasting impression.”

“But the king won’t even—ouch!” I yelled, as she lodged a pin into my scalp.

“Sorry, dear, but you won’t hold still.”

I gripped the edge of my chair. “I still don’t understand why this festival is such a big deal.”

“Because,” Rhea continued, scouring my curls for her next victim, “the winner of the games will inherit Pendel, and with all seven territories governed, a true ruler can be named.”

“Who does the naming?” I winced as she adjusted a pin.

“The Dalorens, but only after all seven lords are in place.”

Fleck’s kind. “But I thought they didn’t leave the keep?” I asked.

“They don’t,” Rhea continued. “It’s been centuries since they’ve stepped foot on Valdon’s soil, but for the naming they’ll hold a ceremony here at the castle.”

I didn’t like the idea of them coming to the castle, especially with Fleck here.

“King Darius isn’t a true ruler, then?”

She found a curl and twirled it around her finger. “He is and he isn’t. His family was…elected because the people needed a ruler, and that title has stayed with the Regius family ever since. But once that seventh territory is occupied, there can be a true king balanced by the other lords around him, and that king will have access to Gaia’s power—sanctioned by the power and wisdom of the Dalorens—which King Darius doesn’t have now.”

“How does that work—
Ow
!” I jerked as she stabbed me again.

Rhea pulled another silver pin from the dresser. “Only Gaia knows the answer to that one, dear. Bloodlines and such. But after Galahad’s lineage was lost, Pendel was lost, and since then, the people have had nothing but a prophecy given to them decades ago by the Dalorens, speaking of this night, when a new line can replace the old and the balance of power can be restored. The people have been impatient for this night. The games this year will be the only way to rectify their anger toward your grandfather.”

Stab
.

“Okay.” I hunched away, holding my hands up defensively. “Can I at least keep the rest down?”

Rhea tapped her chin and smiled. “Perfect.” She spun me around and we both studied my reflection in the mirror. All my fears were confirmed. There was way too much skin showing and it looked like a toddler had been given paints and used my face for a canvas.

“Can we wipe some of this off?” I started wiping the blush from my cheeks and Rhea grabbed my hands.

“Not unless you want the bites to show. Besides, you look stunning, dear.” She squeezed my hand. “Trust me.”

“But I feel so…so…”

“Feminine?”

I set my jaw. “Well, the word I was going to use was ‘ridiculous,’ but I guess they’re pretty much the same thing.”

Rhea laughed. “You just wait.” She patted my bare shoulder. “I guarantee you’ll have a different perspective before the evening’s through.”

I highly doubted that. I’d only worn a dress like this one other time in my life, and that had been almost six months ago, when the king had decided to reveal me to Gaia, well, the Gaia that was present. I hadn’t liked it then, and I certainly didn’t like it now.

Not to mention, there were still little red dots all along my arms. Rhea had done an impressive job of covering the bites on my face with an ungodly amount of makeup, and my chest and back had somehow come out of the blood ant attack unscathed, but my arms? She’d spent about three hours using healing charms to get them to fade, and the end result looked like someone had stabbed me all over with a pushpin.

I’d tried persuading her to let me wear something more conservative and had pulled out a simple black dress with sweeping long sleeves and a top that buttoned around my neck. I had thought it would be nice, but Rhea had snorted and proceeded to tell me that the king wouldn’t stand for his granddaughter looking like she was attending a funeral in a convent.

So, I’d been subjected to this strapless, silvery, diaphanous…thing. In the middle of winter.

After much arguing, she’d agreed to let me take a scarf to cover my arms when it was time to leave. A see-through silk scarf.

“The bites are so small and the lighting will be so dim, no one will notice,” she had said.

There was a light rapping on the door.

“Don’t move,” Rhea whispered, and dashed away.

Voices murmured and Rhea was back at my side, carrying a bouquet of beautiful, exotic flowers, bright oranges and reds and yellows—hardly the shades of winter—and when I breathed them in, their scent tickled my nose and made me feel suddenly giddy.

“For you,” she said, and set them on the table beside me.

“But who…?’

She handed me a note.

The paper was heavy, the creases perfect and sealed with red wax and stamped with the letter “P”.

My cheeks flared and I spun on her. “Who sent these?”

“Relax.” She smiled. “Their family servant delivered them himself.”

I took a deep breath, stared at the note and very carefully lifted the seal.

Princess Daria—

I think I may safely assume that dancing is probably one of your least favorite pastimes, but I wanted to ask if you’d do me the honor of reserving one for me.

Happy Birthday.

Danton

I folded the note and looked back at the flowers feeling very, very confused. “Is this normal?”

Rhea tilted her head. “Is what normal?”

“Getting flowers before a ball?”

Rhea looked at me like I’d just spoken Chinese.

“I mean,” I continued, “giving flowers is something friends do, too, right? It
is
my birthday, so it doesn’t really mean anything…?”

Somehow Rhea’s eyes rolled without actually moving. She rested a hand on my shoulder. “Those are dragon’s breath from the Valley of Kings—the flower of raging passion.” She squeezed my shoulder.

Well.

I mean, I liked Danton. I really liked him. He was nice and personable, and talking with him on the roof last night had been the first time I’d felt at ease in months. The first time I’d actually felt at home here. But that didn’t mean I wanted him to send me flowers of “raging passion.” Actually, that complicated things a bit.

“Well,” Rhea continued, “your father will be here any moment to get you.”

Dad.

I hadn’t seen him since this morning’s ordeal with the dark rider. From what I had understood, the guards had never found him, the king had hurried to cover it all up, and everyone was happily distracted with the upcoming ball. Well, everyone except my father. He was unhappily distracted, and in that unhappy distraction had deployed even more men to guard the corridor that led to my room.

There was a tap on my door, and my door opened. Dad poked his head in; his hair had been combed neatly to the side and a green cape was slung over one shoulder. When he saw me he smiled.

“Hey.” I stood.

“Hey?” He stepped into the room looking like a prince. “Is that all I’m going to get from you now? Come here.”

I walked toward him and once I was within reach, he pulled me in his arms and squeezed tight.

“I love you more than anything in this world, do you know that?” He spoke in my hair.

I nodded.

“Fleck is perfectly safe,” he said. “He’s with Master Antoni and will be at the ball tonight.”

I sighed. “You’re not angry with me?”

“No, I’m not angry. I understand why you’re afraid for him but—” he pulled back to look into my eyes “—he’s dealing with things that are far beyond either of us, now, and he needs proper guidance.”

“What he needs is a family, and the king—”

Dad squeezed my shoulders. “The king is acting like a man worried for the safety of his kingdom. Be patient with him. He’s not going to harm Fleck.”

I didn’t believe that, but I wasn’t about to argue with my dad—the only man in the world who could, perhaps, persuade the king—when he was already doing everything he could for Fleck.

“Here.” He pulled something from behind his back. “I have something for you.”

It was a small box, wrapped in velvety green paper and tied with a black ribbon.

I arched a brow. “Dad,” I grinned, “did you wrap that yourself?”

“Well,” he glanced away, scratching his neck, “I had a little help from Sonya.”

My grin spread into a smile.

“Happy birthday, princess.” He smiled back.

With everything he had been dealing with, he hadn’t forgotten my birthday. I eagerly took the package from his hands, slipped the black string away and unwrapped the stiff paper.

Books.

And not just any books. Hardbacks of
The Count of Monte Cristo
,
Pride and Prejudice
, and
The Lord of the Rings.

My favorite books from back home, from Earth.

“How did you…?” I gasped, flipping through the pages.

There was an inscription inside of
The Count of Monte Cristo
.

My beautiful daughter,

Since I can’t take you home right now,

I thought I’d bring a little bit of home to you.

I couldn’t be more proud of you.

Love,

Dad

I glanced up into his smiling eyes and threw my arms around him. He laughed.

“Thought you might like those,” he said.

“But where did you find them?” I asked, pulling away.

He held a finger to his lips and winked, but then his eyes trailed down my arms and his brow furrowed.

“Bug bites,” I said, carrying my books to my nightstand and setting them down.

His eyes flashed with concern. “What were you, attacked by blood ants?”

“Um…” I looked away and his concern smothered me.

“Daria!” he exclaimed. “What in Gaia’s name—”

“Hey, D.” Stefan stepped into my room, holding a bouquet of yellow flowers. His eyes were weary and his physique sagged, and he sort of reminded me of a wounded puppy. “You look beautiful.”

I folded my arms.

“I, uh, brought these for you,” he said, glancing at the flowers. “For your birthday.”

I glared at him.

Dad glanced between us and arched a brow. “Can you two settle your differences
after
the dance?”

Stefan opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out, so instead he glanced away, embarrassed.

“I’ll take them.” Rhea rushed to Stefan’s side, inhaled the flowers and smiled, then dashed into my bathroom humming that little melody she hummed sometimes when she was completely amused.

Dad looked at me, his expression serious. “You’ll explain that”—he nodded to my arms—“later. You’re sure you’re not feeling sick? Those things can—”

“Dad.” I shook my head. “I’m fine.” Yeah, my joints ached a little, but it was nothing life threatening.

He studied me a moment before sighing. “Do you have a scarf or anything?”

Rhea appeared behind me, see-through scarf in one hand, vase full of yellow flowers in the other.

Dad nodded. “Thank you, Rhea.”

She bowed her head slightly, and I took the see-through black scarf from her hands and draped it over my bare shoulders, wrapping it around my dotted arms.

Dad and Stefan escorted me to the banquet hall. Stefan tried talking to me. He said things like “I’m sorry” and “I had no idea,” but I ignored him. I was certain that nothing nice would come out of my mouth, and until I saw Fleck—until I saw with my own eyes that he was safe—nothing nice could.

As we got close, the murmur of voices grew louder and louder and I could faintly hear the sound of music. A small group of people had gathered near the ballroom entrance, dressed in fitted black suits, some with silver sashes. Right in the middle of the group was the king.

He looked regal, covered in green velvet, with jewels gleaming from his crown and fingers. The angles in his face were sharp with decision, his thin lips set with purpose, and when his intelligent blue eyes found us, they settled with satisfaction.

He said something to the men beside him, and the men bowed in respect and stepped through the doors into the ballroom. The hall exploded with noise and music until the door closed again, muffling it all.

Dad led us to the king, who waited poised like the statue of someone great, hands clasped before him. He seemed unnaturally large to me, then, as though his presence filled the room and all its spaces, and when he looked at me I felt as though he could see all I was, all I had been, and all he expected me to be.

We stopped right before him and Dad led me into a bow. It still felt awkward to me, bowing, and I was thankful I had Dad’s arm for support.

When I straightened, the king was studying me, but for once he was not frowning.