Part I - THE PRINCE
CHAPTER 7
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For the first time that night, Aldric was grateful for the number of guests present. He quickly lost track of Primrose as he jumped into the next series of steps, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to see if his aunt had reappeared. He couldn’t spot her, but he wasn’t entirely certain if that was because she was just small or if it was because she’d gone after Rhiann instead. By song number three, though, he reasoned it was relatively safe to depart from his dance partner.
Aldric politely bowed to the nameless girl with a dreamy expression on her face before making his way toward the refreshments table. Grand affairs like this didn’t tend to prompt any strict alcohol restrictions on the younger guests, but Aldric supposed he didn’t really need to worry about such things anymore since he was officially recognized as an adult now. He poured himself a decent glass of champagne and sipped at it slowly as he maneuvered through the groups of guests chatting on the outskirts of the dance circle. As much as he wanted to go back and down the entire bottle, Aldric forced himself to socialize and keep his thoughts off of Rhiann.
Why was she even here? Jadon had told him she wouldn’t be in attendance because she was staying in Lukipia. Had she lied to surprise him? But if that was the case why did Primrose look so scared to see her own daughter? And why had Rhiann been dressed like some discreet trader? Aldric couldn’t recall a time he’d seen his cousin so unkempt.
Before his mind could continue spiraling, Aldric shook himself mentally.
A group of Lords nearby were engaged in a mundane discussion on politics, and since Aldric didn’t have the energy for another immediate dance, he half-heartedly participated. But after several minutes, he was forced to conclude that the conversation was little more than baseless gossip. None of the Lords present had the status or rank to know more about the inner workings of the Kingdom. And even if they did, discussing important government information in an open area like this—somewhere prime for eavesdroppers—was not only stupid, it was treasonous.
“Does anyone else find Princess Khione’s accompaniment to be rather—creepy?” Aldric was paying less attention than he thought. The sudden change in the topic had him racing to recover the last several minutes of dialogue. The question had been proposed by Viscount Peterson, a young man only a couple years Aldric’s senior who had only just recently taken over his mother’s title. It was probably his first time seeing a Hajat, and their customs were as bizarre as they were fascinating.
In Tanah, it wasn’t just the royal family that concealed their eyes from the public, but rather anyone of status who held either monetary or physical power. Palace guards, councilors, young inheritors—they all bore masks.
Khione’s entourage was no exception. The group was small, consisting of only five figures. Specific attributes like their genders were difficult to distinguish since, unlike their princess, none of them had chosen to dress for the occasion. Instead of a flashy suit or elaborate gown, each adorned a shapeless, full-body black cloak that made them look more like phantoms than partygoers. And with the addition of their blank, expressionless Volta masks, Aldric had to agree that they were, indeed, a very creepy group.
“Why do you think they sent the second princess?” A Lord by the name of Jefferson asked. Similar to Peterson, Jefferson was new to his rank, but as a man in the business of international exports, he did far more traveling than anyone else present. Though he was rarely involved in politics, Jefferson had good ears and tended to be an excellent source of gossip. As such, Aldric was confident he’d been Brooke’s source of information yesterday regarding the kingdom delegates.
“It’s it obvious?” The remark came from a man named Kilson Crew. He wasn’t a Lord nor a gentleman by anyone’s standards, but he was rich and owned a large number of ships that sailed the stretch of Halton Lake. He and Jefferson worked together often, going between Aguki and Lukipia with occasional visits to Azmosir and Tanah.
“Why is it obvious?” Peterson inquired.
“Surely you’ve heard the rumors,” Jefferson said with an eye roll and a soft chuckle. A muscle in Aldric’s cheek twitched at the Lord’s condescending tone of voice, but his interest had him swallowing his irritation.
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“Because she’s known as the Forgotten Princess,” snorted Kilson with a shake of his head. The Sea Captain exchanged a humorous smirk with Jefferson before the two redirected their attention toward their captivated audience.
“Forgotten? Why Forgotten?” Aldric didn’t know who asked the question nor did he care. He’d never heard such a comment made about a Hajat, let alone one who was a princess. Jefferson and Kilson were either incredibly brave or immensely stupid to be making such unfiltered comments.
“Because Khione has little to offer the Tanah people,” explained Jefferson with a shrug. “And to the Tanah people, if you aren’t powerful, you’re irrelevant to them.”
“I do feel bad for her in a way,” Kilson continued in what Aldric could only describe as an absurdly poor act of sympathy. “She’s got to compete with the notorious Shadow Heir and the Feardon. You know, I saw the two of them from a distance once—nearly wet myself.”
The joke had laughter blossoming over the heavy atmosphere and Aldric joined in despite the hollow sensation in his stomach. His eyes flitted towards Khione impulsively as the conversation resumed in a different direction.
Eventually, Aldric excused himself from the gossip and made his way through the remainder of the guests. With every step, the note from Rhiann called to him like a siren’s song, but he refused to permit his curiosity to distract him any more than it already had. The evening was almost over and he still hadn’t figured out where his Aunt Primrose had disappeared to. Not to mention he hadn’t spoken to either of his parents for the majority of the party. But as Aldric worked his way over to his mother to invite her to dance, an unexpected form moved to stand in front of him.
Khione Andrade smiled at him suggestively as she extended her hand for him to take. For several seconds, Aldric just stared at her manicured nails and slim fingers, his brain not fully processing what was happening.
“You know, it’s considered rude in Tanah to refuse a lady’s request to dance.” Khione’s words were like a bucket of cold water. Aldric mentally slapped himself before flashing her his signature smile and bowing.
“Forgive me,” he said with ease, extending his hand to take hers. “Your beauty momentarily caught me unawares.”
The comment was cheesy, cliche, and over-the-top, but it had jumped from him like a reflex. Flirting for Aldric was an impulsive tic to soothe uncomfortable situations, and at this moment he was immensely regretting ever forming the habit. But just as his mind was weighing the pros and cons and potential repercussions of flirting with a Tanah princess, Khione blushed.
The action transformed the entirety of the person standing in front of him. Gone was the ostentatious princess with the revealing dress and flamboyant mannerism, and in her place was a shy, young girl who clearly didn’t know what to do with his remark.
The eery familiarity from earlier slipped under Aldric’s skin again, but this time he didn’t push aside the sensation. He’d been uncomfortable because Khione had reminded him of himself. She was playing a role just like he was. The Forgotten Princess was doing everything in her power not to be forgotten.
“Would you care for a dance?” His tone was soft as he asked the question. Her hand in his was cold and unexpectedly rough. She had callouses in the same places he did. But Aldric didn’t concede his surprise or his confusion. Now wasn’t the appropriate time to be questioning why a Hajat would need to how to swing a sword.
“I would love to,” Khione said, jumping back into her supercilious demeanor from earlier. Despite her best efforts to regain the upper hand, Aldric couldn’t help but note that she was both embarrassed and slightly shaken. He’d caught her off guard and her mask had slipped for the briefest of seconds.
Just as Aldric pulled Khione into the throng of dancers, the next song—a tango—started up. He ignored the onlookers that stopped mid-step to gawk and wrapped his arm around Khione. The palm of his hand came to rest just over her shoulder blade as he brought their arms up and into the proper positions. His blood heated as he pulled her flush to him, their chests pressing together, locking their bodies.
Her hair smelled like papayas.
Aldric had little time to dwell on the alarmingly intrusive thought before he was moving. Their feet glided easily across the ballroom, their steps slow and calculative at first. Khione tiptoed around him, twisting her hips in time with the music as Aldric directed the rhythm of their motions.
They turned in tandem, their pace growing with the increasing fluctuation of the music’s tempo. The orchestra’s tone was sensual, sultry in an intoxicating way that had Aldric’s attention narrowing solely on Khione. Despite his better judgment, he liked how she felt against him. She was an excellent dancer, and she moved with such fluidity that it was as if they’d been partners for years rather than once dance.
The crescendo of the song was nearing its end. As they pivoted one last time, Aldric pulled Khione into a deep lunge, the slit of her dress enabling her to easily wrap her leg around his and extend her form fully. With her back arched, Khione leaned even more heavily into Aldric’s arms, and their breaths mingled with every pant of exertion. Her head was thrown back, as well, causing her hair to tickle Aldric’s hand.
But just as Khione was straightening and stepping away from him, the windows of the ballroom shattered and the party erupted into chaos.