When I change for supper, I choose a gown that is the same shade of pale blue as the wisteria flowers. I keep them behind my ear.
Adrian notices. For the first time, he takes the seat next to meâthe one usually occupied by Lord Dustin. The duchess nudges me, but I ignore her.
"They suit you," he says.
"The flowers?" I ask.
"Yes."
Dustin enters the room, his expression instantly darkening when he sees the prince. He carefully composes himself, then sits down on Adrian's left.
"I see Lady Nyx has captured your attention tonight, Your Highness," he remarks. Leaning forward to address me, he adds, "You look ravishing."
"Thank you." Adrian's compliment didn't offend me, but Dustin's does. Maybe it's because his smile is closer to a leer while Adrian's, though dangerous, is earnest.
"Your father wishes to see you after supper," Dustin tells Adrian.
The prince freezes for a second but, just like Dustin, is quickly able to regain his composure. "If he wishes to see me, I am happy to oblige." He takes a large sip of wine before turning to me once more. "Are you busy tomorrow, Nyx?"
"Not at all." My only plans were to "accidentally" run into him again.
"I wondered if you might consider riding with me again. I'll pick a horse that is more...tame."
Tossing my braid over my shoulder, I say, "Actually, I like Burr. If it's all the same to you, I would much prefer to ride her again."
He grins. "Would you? Your bravery is astonishing. Being tossed would dissuade most."
"I believe that was your fault."
"Do you?"
I give him my most winning smile. "If you hadn't decided to evade your guards, they wouldn't have come crashing in at the most inopportune moment, don't you agree?"
Adrian laughs. "Yes, I suppose you're right. Don't worry; I know better than to try that again."
"Good, because I won't agree to a third ride if you do."
"I wouldn't expect you to."
Throughout the rest of the meal, he speaks only with me. He jokes and laughs, flirting just like he would with any other noblewoman. I notice that he drinks three full glasses of wine; I wonder if that's what's making him so jovial tonight. If I didn't need to keep my wits about me, I might be tempted to drink a similar amount, if only to keep myself agreeable enough to retain his attention.
But he doesn't seem to care about how interesting I struggle to make myself. No matter what, he is focused only on me. Though I've seen him behave this way with others, I can't help but feel special because of it, as if the prince's attention is some sort of rare prize that I have won. Perhaps he is desperate now, with Cordelia gone, but he is so charming that I almost don't care. For the nobles, he will make the perfect king: superficially beguiling and easily manipulated through shallow means. If the reputation he bears in Durnwall is any evidence, the citizens of Itoria won't be very fond of him. Victor and I will have to work to change their perception of him. It can't be too difficult, though, if even I am growing a trifling fondness for him. That fondness is ephemeral, of courseâtomorrow evening he'll find a new girl to take an interest inâbut all he'll need to do is make a good impression upon his people. They won't be able to know him in a long-term capacity.
Near the end of the meal, Adrian leans in close to me. His lips tickle my ear as he whispers, "Did you keep that rose?"
"What rose?" I ask.
"The one I gave you. You pricked your finger on it."
Oh. "Yes." I'm not sure why, but I hid it under my bed. It would have been better to toss it away, but I couldn't bring myself to. No one had ever given me a flower before.
"I knew it."
Before I can ask him what he means, he pushes his chair back and excuses himself. I'm about to follow when the duchess grabs my arm in a grip even tighter than the one Dustin used on me this morning.
"Come with me," she hisses. She excuses us, then drags me upstairs, to her room. I let her for the sake of allowing her to appear in control before her friends, but the moment the door is shut I pull myself free.
"Do that again and I'll cut you," I snap.
Ethel laughs dismissively. "You'll cut me?"
I yank up my skirt, displaying the knife strapped to my thigh. "I'm always armed, Ethel. That's one thing you should know about me."
"That is very unladylike!" she gasps, swatting at my hand.
I drop the skirt, letting the silk settle around my legs once more. "Then it's a good thing I'm not a lady."
"You are while you're here with me. And I won't stand for you trying to steal the prince away from me."
"What do you expect me to do?" I demand. "Victor told me to seduce him. That's how I'm supposed to learn his secrets." With a jolt of sudden nausea, I remember Victor's threats. There are so many avenues for him to hurt me if I can't figure out Adrian's greatest fear, pathways that I have opened by being foolish enough to care about those that have helped me. Now I am even more frustrated with this impossible situation: how can I get close to the prince if Ethel is suddenly so resistant to it? She certainly has the power to get rid of me, whether she is backing Victor or not.
"You ought to be more subtle about itâfor my sake. I'm the one who's going to marry him, after all. Or have you forgotten already?"
For the first time, her claim on him makes me feel strange. It's like I'm in the ocean and a wave has just slammed against me, knocking me down and pushing me underwater. I think this feeling alone could drown me. By the gods, what's wrong with me? I am finding myself more concerned with keeping Adrian focused on me than on discovering his secrets.
"I know, Ethel," I say. "But if I can't pull this off, you won't even have that opportunity."
She presses her lips together into a thin line as she considers this. "Don't make me look like his latest conquest when we do finally marry."
"When Victor and I are in control of him, we can make him give a public declaration of his love," I promise. "Everyone will believe that he's completely smitten with you."
That makes her snicker. "Can you make him believe that as well?"
My breath catches. I don't want to make him feel something he doesn't, though I know that I could. Controlling his actions is one thing, but controlling his thoughts...well, making people forget they ever encountered me left me with disastrous guilt for a long time. I don't know what forcing the prince to be infatuated with Ethel might do to me. Or him, for that matter.
"I'm not sure," I tell her.
She sighs. "I hope so. I do miss having a doting husband."
Thanks to Victor's promises, she no longer seems to think of the prince as a person in his own right. As bad as he is, I find it sickening.
"I need some air," I tell her.
Dread fills me as I enter the hallway and duck behind a pillar. I reach into my pocket and finger the Immaterial Ring, letting its coldness burn my fingertips. There's no other choice: I have to see what King Thurstan has to say to Adrian. While I hope that this will be the last time I have to wear the thing, I know deep inside that I won't be so fortunate.
I put the ring on, shuddering as the frigid numbness overcomes me. Then I make my way to the king's room, bypassing the guards andâreluctantlyâbreezing straight through the door. It takes me a moment to recover; my ears ring like bells for a few seconds, and my vision goes black around the edges. Then, everything comes into focus.
The king stands in the center of the room, boots sinking into the luscious carpet. His gold chain is around his neck, and the illusion is in full effect. His cheeks are round and rosy, his clothes appropriately grand to suit a king, and he looks sturdy on his feet. For some reason, Lord Dustin lurks just behind him, hands clasped behind his back.
Adrian stands facing them. His guards were left outside, so the three men are alone in this room. But I don't think Ingram and the others would offer their master any support even if they were here beside him.
I notice that the prince looks strangely pale. Excitement sparks to life inside meâis he frightened? Is this his greatest fear? Confronting his father?
"Ingram told me where you went last night," the king says coldly, his gray eyes hard as stone.
"I'm sure he did." The prince's tone matches his father's exactly.
"I thought I forbade you from going into town."
"You did."
"Then explain why you disobeyed my orders." The king's scowl is hateful, and I wonder how a father could look upon his son like that. I remember what Adrian told me, about how kind the king once was. I find this rather difficult to believe.
The prince stares at him, feigning fearlessness. "Why shouldn't I? You've had their women brought here for as long as I can remember."
"Don't speak to me like that!" King Thurstan cries. "While I am still alive, you must obey my orders. Who are you to pass judgement on your own father?"
"I am merely pointing out your hypocrisy."
The king opens his mouth to admonish his son again, but instead descends into a fit of coughing so intense that Dustin drags a chair over for him to sit down on. King Thurstan drops onto it heavily, his body hunched so much that not even an illusion can hide it.
Adrian kneels down beside him, gripping one of his father's hands. "Are you all right, Father?" His tone is now leeched of all defiance and rife with worry. "I can send for the royal physician, if youâ"
With a sudden influx of strength, the king shoves him away. "Don't touch me, whoreson."
The prince's face colors. Silently, he stands again, backing away from his father.
"Now," King Thurstan says, clearing his throat. His voice rasps. "I also heard that Keyon cancelled your lessons this morning, on account of you being in no condition to do your work."
So that's why the prince was in the garden earlier, when I was sure he was supposed to be at his lessons.
"We all know what that means," says the king. Behind him, Lord Dustin nods seriously, though a hint of a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. He's enjoying this.
The prince nods. Amusement flickers in his eyes. "Yes, it was truly unfortunate."
"I have warned you to control your drinking habits."
"They are well controlled, I assure you."
Harsh pain bites at my finger. It's growing hard to concentrate. Were I not intangible to even myself, I would pinch my skin to secure my focus. But right now, all I have to rely on is sheer willpower. Good thing I have a great deal of it.
The king's dark brows are low over his eyes. "You're going to be king, Adrian. You have to take this seriously."
"And you have to trust me," says Adrian.
Shaking his head, the king looks up at Dustin. "Call in the guards and bring out the contract."
Eagerly, Dustin hurries to the door and calls in the prince's guards. Then he strides to the king's desk near the window, retrieving the contract they discussed earlier and a peacock-feather quill pen.
The guards surround Adrian, who stands firmly, though I can see the nervousness in his wavering eyes. They are his guards, but they have never been on his side. King Thurstan is the man they answer toâand I fear that soon their command will shift to Dustin.
Dustin cannot hide his glee. His wicked smile makes my frigid body even colder. He signs the contract first, then passes it to the king, who hesitates for a moment before adding his own signature. Then, he holds it out to the prince.
"Sign."
Adrian takes it, and I watch his eyes grow wider as he scans the document. My own are too blurred by now to see the words clearly, but I already have a clear enough idea to know that Adrian will not sign. He's too stubborn, too proud to give away three years of his reignâespecially to a man like Dustin. And I'm sure he's well aware that Dustin will try to extend his authority beyond that length of time.
"No," he says stiffly, tossing the paper aside. "I won't sign it."
Unabashed, Dustin picks it up again. "You don't have a choice, Adrian. Your father commands it."
Adrian glares at him fiercely enough that, were it just the two of them in the room, Dustin would probably wilt under the expression. "I won't. You are a vile man, Lord Dustin, and unfit to have any say in my rule. When I become king, I will choose worthy men to act as my advisors. You, on the other hand, will be stripped of your title."
That, at last, makes Dustin grit his teeth. "We'll see about that, Your Highness."
To his father, Adrian says, "I'm leaving. And I would encourage you to rethink those whose counsel you employ."
He turns around, but Ingram and Floyd each catch one of his arms and force him to face King Thurstan and Lord Dustin again. They don't release him.
Adrian struggles in their grip. "Threaten me all you like; you won't convince me to sign that contract no matter what."
King Thurstan grits his teeth. "I have my methods."
"Only the ones fed to you by your so-called advisor."
Unintentionally proving him right, the king turns to Dustin and nods. Dustin returns to the king's desk and opens a drawer. This time, it's a thick leather strap that he returns with. A torture instrumentâI can't believe King Thurstan intends to use this on his own son.
"Father," Adrian says in a strained voice. "You can't trust him. He wants the throne for himself."
"On the contrary, I want what's best for you and Itoria, Adrian," says Dustin. His voice is too calm for this situation. "I want to help you."
"This won't help me. It never has before."
The king stands. "No; this won't help you. This is your punishment for disobeying me. It is the contract that I hope will finally show you what it takes to be a king. Dustin will guide you through the beginning of your rule, and by the end of three years, I pray to the gods that you will be competent enough to stand on your own."
"This is his path to power!" Adrian protests desperately. He still fights against Ingram and Floyd, but together they're much stronger than him. "He'll be Itoria's downfall!"
"Quiet!" King Thurstan shouts. His voice makes the whole room shake. Considering his true state of health, it's a marvel that the effort doesn't make him collapse.
Dustin glances at him, and Thurstan gives him a barely perceptible nod.
"You know what to do," Thurstan tell his son. Ingram and Floyd let go of his arms.
Resigned, Adrian undoes the buttons of his evergreen doublet and lets it fall to the ground from his shoulders. His shirt follows, leaving his upper body naked except for a silver chain that hangs around his neck. I can't make out the charm, but it vexes the king.
"Take that thing off," he snaps.
Adrian shakes his head. "You know I neverâ"
"Take it off!" he shouts in that terrible, booming voice.
I notice Adrian's fingers trembling slightly as he grabs the chain and pulls it over his head. He starts to put it in his pocket, but Dustin snatches it away.
Scowling, Adrian says, "Give that back, you bastard."
"Watch your mouth and I'll consider it." Dustin's smile stretches from ear to ear; he's enjoying this far too much.
Adrian clenches his jaw so tight I worry he'll crush his own teeth. But he doesn't say anything. Instead, he gets down on his hands and knees, his bare back exposed to Dustin.
When I was in his room that one morning, as he was getting dressed, I purposefully didn't look at him. Now, I can't tear my eyes away. There are already faint marks on his muscular back, and I realize that this has happened before.
I'm worried for Adrian. I don't know why, but his pain doesn't feel deserved. This is the sort of thing I would have wished on him just two weeks ago, but now it feels wrong. Misplaced. Looking at him, I don't see an evil prince who cares so little for Itoria that he wouldn't convince his father to lower taxes or his lover to make food more affordable. All I see now is a man who rushed to my side after I fell from a horse; a man who would have stained his own handkerchief with my blood, worried that I might fear the sight. I see the man who tucked wisteria flowers behind my ear and praised my beauty.
An unfamiliar warmth battles the coldness of my body. I feel a little stronger now.
"Nineteen lashes," King Thurstan says. He is frighteningly void of emotion. "One for each year of disobedience."
Dustin is all too eager to oblige. He raises the leather strap and brings it down on Adrian's back. To his credit, the prince makes no noise, though the sound of the weapon striking his bare skin makes me flinch. It reminds me of public floggings in Durnwall's town squareâa punishment for thieves, murderers, or anyone brave enough to speak out against the king.
This, tenfold, would be my fate if the Shadow Thief were ever caught. I would be whipped to death. Or even hanged.
Yet I can't look away. Horrified, I take in Adrian's trembling arms, his eyes squeezed tight shut, and his teeth clamping down so hard on his bottom lip that he draws blood. Several drops splatter onto the carpet, and I am filled with regret as I watch the woven fibers absorb them. Royal blood.
When Dustin finally finishes, he wipes the sweat from his shiny forehead with the back of his hand. Sweat has pooled on the Silver Prince's forehead as well, dampening his hair. Blood trickles from a few lacerations on his back, staining his pale skin. His breathing is shallow and rapid, and his lip is already beginning to swell. His cheeks are feverishly flushed from pain or embarrassmentâor both. He drops down to his elbows and rests his head on the carpet, hiding his face.
Dustin is grinning, a villainous expression that makes me want to draw my knife and cut his lips off. Even the prince's guards look pleased. The king, however, is chillingly inscrutable. His features are flat, and I have to wonder if he's concealing his own pain.
"Sign," King Thurstan demands again.
"No," Adrian says firmly. Somehow, he keeps his muffled voice steady. "Beat me until I fall apart. I won't sign my kingdom away."
"Get him up."
Ingram and Floyd pull him to his feet. The prince sways unsteadily, but somehow manages to stand and keep his head upright.
"You'll change your mind," says King Thurstan. To the guards, he adds, "Keep him confined to his chamber for three days. And call the royal physician to see to his wounds."
My pain remains, but the warmth is still there to combat it. I am still myself. So I follow the guards as they drag the prince back to his room and deposit him on the bed. Adrian laboriously pushes himself up to a sitting position, leaning his shoulder against the headboard to prop himself up.
"I warned you, didn't I?" Ingram mocks.
"Get the physician," Adrian groans. "I have no patience for your scorn."
"You'll be fine. It's not your first time, after all."
One of the quieter guardsâBradley, I thinkâsays, "I'll go fetch him." He backs out of the room.
"You'd better sign that contract, unless you want a repeat of tonight."
"I will endure tonight a thousand times over if I must." Adrian's eyes drift shut. Doubtless, the pain has exhausted him.
Knowing that there is nothing more I can do for him, I leave. Once I'm safe in my bed, I am again met with sleeplessness. Tonight, though, my worries about learning the Silver Prince's greatest fear don't torment me. Tonight, it's guilt that afflicts my addled mind.
Maybe I was right, and Adrian never tried to help the people of Itoria. But what if he's been biding his time, waiting until he becomes king to change things? I see now that even he cannot reason with the king. Both Thurstan and Dustin are too wicked to listen to reason. All these years I thought that Adrian shared the blame with his father, but now I see that it is only the king who cares nothing for Itoria. For a prince, Adrian is incredibly powerless. No wonder he's insufferable at times; even his own guards mock him. It seems that the king has allowed his hatred towards his son to poison his underlings into believing that they can look down on their own prince.
I can hardly believe it, but I pity the Silver Prince. What kind of man calls his own child a whoreson? And what was that warmth I felt, the respite the ring gave me when I remembered those times the prince seemed to truly care about me?
Somehow, I have to figure out how to stop deliberating over all of this. I need some sleep because I think the day is quickly approaching.
I think I have discovered the Silver Prince's greatest fear.