“Ladies. Gentlemen. A good evening to you,” he said. “To our guests, it has been our very great pleasure to host you these two weeks—especially you, Selah, Seneschal-elect.

“This evening, however, I must make you an apology.” Constantine glanced at Myrddin, kindly expression faltering.

My pulse leapt. Maybe the prince wouldn’t propose, after all. But Skop’s angular eyes were uneasy beneath their sparse lashes.

“I hope,” said the king, licking his papery lips, “that you will forgive the deception and accept that it was committed in the interest of ensuring honor and trust.”

Sir Perrault frowned, eyes blank, but gears were working behind Yu’s and Cobie’s stares. Lang shook his head, eyes disbelieving.

I didn’t know what they made of the king’s meandering, but his demeanor was too cheery for me to mistake his intent.

My head throbbed beneath the tiara’s weight.

He’s going to propose. Think. Think.

Constantine’s wrinkled face lit up again. “To be perfectly honest, though, dear, I’m rather pleased you’re not the whey-faced baby angel they made you out to be.”

Myrddin gave a chiding laugh. “Your Majesty, please.”

My stomach turned to stone.

They knew.

They knew.

“Well, I am,” insisted Constantine. He shook a finger at me, the gesture as playful as his cloudy blue eyes. “You’re a lovely girl, but you weren’t too virtuous to decide what you wanted and to take it. And yet, there’s not an ounce of real deceit in you.” He gave a laugh. “You, my dear, are a perfectly awful liar.”

The crowd’s eyes were a thousand lit matches pressed to my skin.

I looked to Perrault, but he was silent, dumbstruck. Lang was the first to find a reply, lips curling into something that bore no resemblance to a smile. “Do you have a question to ask the seneschal-elect, or not?”

Constantine glanced to Bertilak. “Do you?” he asked.

Princess Igraine crossed to his side. “I’m afraid not,” she said with a laugh, putting a hand on his shoulder in a particularly unsisterly fashion.

Prince Bertilak smiled at me, apologetic. “I’m afraid I’m already spoken for.”

It was like being tossed over a cliff. I scrabbled and groped, desperate for a handhold, but found only empty air beneath my flailing feet.

“Then why did you bring me here?” I demanded.

Perrault stepped a little in front of me, expression calm but chilly. His face was pale. “The seneschal-elect was here to court your prince. This is a breach of trust. This is not what was negotiated.”

“No, it isn’t. Or, not exactly,” said a voice behind me. “But I did warn Selah to pay attention.”

My breath expired. I didn’t turn. I didn’t need to.

34