“I do not stare at her,” I scoff. “I’m just… intrigued by her. That’s all. And I’m trying to get closer to her so that we can learn more. May I remind you it was our plan for me to use my impressively good looks to get her to open up.”

She gives me a long, hard look, eyebrows raised and lips pursed. The song ends, and I dip her low before bringing her up and kissing her forehead, then tuck her arm through mine and exit the dance floor. As we’re walking back to our seating area, I spot Laurel, and her eyes… For a brief moment, I think I catch hurt in them. Or is it anger? She’s so hard to read, but I suddenly regret the public display of affection I just engaged in with Silene. I drop Silene’s arm, but it’s too late. Laurel has turned away to speak with someone else. We attend so many of these kinds of events in Velmara that it’s practically second nature to give her light kisses and pull her close. Silene’s safety in Velmara hinges on our ability to convince the nobles there that we truly are engaged, despite the rumors about my mistress.

We approach Fionn, whose expression is studious, his body tense.

“All good, Fionn?” I ask. He nods. “Then lighten up a little,” I tell him with a shove in the ribs. “Don’t look so serious.”

“The guards who saw the rebels have arrived. I’m just monitoring the situation,” he growls. I put my arm around his shoulder and casually turn him away from where I see the Captain in discussion with three guards, brows furrowed.

“We don’t want to show any interest in the situation. Go find a pretty female to ask to dance.”

He glares at me, then turns to Silene and puts his arm out. “Care to dance, pretty female?” She giggles as she takes his arm, and they walk to the dance floor.

“That’s not what I meant!”

Fionn gives me a rude hand gesture that sends Silene into a new fit of giggles. I feign annoyance but am happy to see them enjoying themselves after the events of the evening.

There’s a commotion near Laurel. The Captain of the Guard is speaking loudly to her and a group of her advisors. I don't like the way he stands over her, like he's trying to show off that he's in charge. Before I can do anything about it, he stalks toward me, the group at his heels. Iron cuffs wrap around my wrists, and I look up at Laurel as she reaches me. Her face is stony and indifferent, not giving anything away.

“Prince Hawthorne, there has been a breach in palace security,” Carex says. “We’re arresting you and your advisors.”

Nemesia