Kiva sat at one of those tables, her elbows spread to each side to create space. We locked gazes across the room, and she flashed me a sharp smile to show she was all right.

“I do hope she’s not planning on skewering anyone tonight,” Ericen remarked. He lounged in his chair in a lithe, imperious way, as if the chair should be grateful to hold him. His expression held an air of disinterest, and once again, I saw the arrogant, vicious prince who’d ridden into Rhodaire.

“You’re a little far from her reach,” I replied.

His lips quirked in that one-sided smirk.

At our backs, Auma and an Illucian servant rushed about, refilling goblets with wine or water and tending to whatever needs we might have. I made sure not to have any. The Jin girl had readopted her meek exterior, and it made me uneasy to see her bustling about so swiftly. Everyone else simply ignored them, as if they thought their glasses refilled themselves and their empty plates vanished into thin air.

I wore a simple pale-green gown I’d selected because it was my warmest, but my arms still prickled with cold despite the heat of the fires around the room, and it didn’t escape Razel’s notice.

“We’ll get you some warmer gowns and a nice coat made,” she said. Her sugary tone made me sick.

“Thank you.” I forced a smile to crack across my face and went back to my food, but she kept talking.

“You’ll have free rein of the castle, of course. I want you to be comfortable here.” Her eyes scanned me, falling at last on my scarred arm. “And not to worry. It may be too warm for gloves where you’re from, but you’ll be perfectly comfortable with them here. We’ll get you some fine ones made.”

Where you’re from. As if she couldn’t even deign to speak my kingdom’s name.

My scarred hand curled into a fist of its own accord. “I don’t want to cover my scars, if that’s what you mean.”

Ericen went still.

Razel picked up a knife and cut a slice of butter. “Of course not, dear. Gloves are part of Illucian fashion. I know how important it is for girls your age to fit in. We’ll make a proper Illucian princess of you yet.”

Not before I strangle myself. Or you. The thought had barely crossed my mind when I met Kiva’s gaze. She eyed my fist, and I opened it, but the tension in my shoulders felt permanent. I scanned the tables full of people—no one wore gloves.