Chapter 411

An hour later I enter the banquet hall at Gabriel’s side, my hand perched quaintly atop his as the Prince escorts me forward. I’m again wearing the diamond collar that hides Luca’s mark, though I’ve got no crown today, which is fine by me. Pippa dressed me in acres of pink satin overtop another corset which does nothing to aid the cramps that torture my back and my stomach. At every moment, I avoid the urge to scowl for more reasons than one.

But my face shows none of it, a pretty smile and vacant look in my eyes as my head swivels around, nodding to everyone who sits at the tables which are arranged in a wide horseshoe before the small King’s table at the front so that all of the courtiers can get a good look at us.

And not just the courtiers, I realize as I smile around the room. It takes a great deal of control to keep my face bland as my eyes sweep over the table of Moon Valley ambassadors who have been included in this event. Their table is tucked away behind the table of Atalaxian nobles and heavily guarded, but they’re here.

I let a little surprise and fondness show as I give them a tinkling little wave, as if seeing an old acquaintance about whom I don’t particularly care. My eyes find Ben’s, though, and he smirks at me, shaking his head a bit, onto my game. But the rest of the ambassadors just look terribly confused, clearly wondering how I’ve fallen this quickly under this Atalaxian spell.

I quickly turn away from them all, wondering what the hell is going on. Why does Gabirel want us all here for dinner? And why would he invite the delegation from Moon Valley – what does he want them to see?

Gabriel predictably leads us immediately to that front table, even as Elias and Pippa fall to the side, taking seats of honor closest to the high table. I frown as they sit, wondering where Elias and Gabriel’s father is. Calvin – my mother’s friend – the King’s brother. I haven’t seen sign of him at all since I arrived. Is that odd? Should he be here? I don’t even know.

The King gives Gabriel a loud, formal welcome as we finally reach our destination. Gabriel bows, answering in a bored way as I dip into a deep curtsy, ignoring their words and concentrating instead on the fact that neither the King’s Luna nor the Prince’s are here. And, indeed, that there is no chair for me.

Just…a big red velvet pillow on the floor next to the high table.

Inwardly my wolf growls as I see where this is going. Because even though I wasn’t raised with a great deal of ego regarding my royal status, I certainly was raised with enough pride to know when I’m being insulted. And to resent it.

“Princess,” Gabriel says, flopping back into his chair and grinning darkly at me he gestures to the pillow. “If you wouldn’t mind. My feet do ache.”

“Of course, my love,” I murmur, folding my legs elegantly beneath me as I settle on the pillow and let my skirts spread prettily around me on my floor. Then, as Gabriel extends his booted foot my way, I reach out and take it in my hands, holding the boot steady as he pulls his foot away.

Over the course of the next hour, I seethe quietly as I rub my mate’s feet. I do my best to tuck all of my anger away, forcing myself to play the role of the imaginary, perfect version of the Atalaxian Luna who really would want to rub her mate’s feet after his long day of stomping around, being a cursed jerk.

But I can’t help, a few times, the cruel little pinches and squeezes that make Gabriel growl quietly but which he cannot allow to show on his face either. Because he, too, is bound by the ridiculous gender roles of his nation and couldn’t ever let anyone know that his pretty little Luna could hurt him.

So instead I just rub until my hands ache, well aware that I’m being humiliated, that the whole thing is in service of showing just how completely he’s tamed me, and that photographers have captured the entire scene to print in the world-wide press tomorrow.

But whatever. Anyone I care about will just see these images and laugh.

Mostly, I let my mind wander, thinking of better things. Of my family at home, and how pleasant it is to sit around a lovely fire with them, joking and laughing. Of Jackson, and how honestly I wouldn’t mind rubbing his feet if it made him feel nice after a long day. How he would insist on returning the favor.

I don’t have to fake the smile that comes to my mouth at the thought of his big powerful hands anywhere on my body.

My focus returns, though, at a very particular change in the tone and timbre of Gabriel’s voice what must be…two hours into a dinner at which I’ve been fed absolutely nothing.

“The problem with that,” Gabriel says, sounding smug as he brushes my hands away and begins to tug on one of his boots. “Is that the future of Atalaxia will not be heading in that direction. Not at all.”

“Pardon?” Gabriel’s cousin – the Crown Prince – says, turning to him with a sneer. “Gabriel, you over-step. I appreciate your input, of course, but you will never have the power to delegate such decisions.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure,” Gabriel says with a sigh, his eyes latching onto mine as he smirks and pulls on his second boot. I go a bit rigid with surprise – he hasn’t looked at me at all this entire dinner, except to give me instructions on how to massage his feet.

What…what is happening?

“You grow tiresome, Gabriel,” the King murmurs, taking a long sip of his red wine and looking out over his courtiers. “With your plans for this nation and your spur-of-the-moment plans, like banquets such as this which seem to have…no point. We are all allied with Darkness, but you forget your duty to our people and traditions in your vehement dedication to the God. There must be a balance.”

I watch very carefully as servants begin to file into the room, trays in their hands, starting to deliver deserts to the table. I watch carefully as the silver domes are removed from the trays, revealinging to each courtier a single cup filled to the brim with red liquid.

Is it…is it wine? Or some kind of liquid desert?

“Oh, everything as a point,” Gabriel sighs, sitting back in his chair as the servants come to our table last, delivering three trays with those same red drinks.

“What on earth is this?” the Crown Prince murmurs, leaning forward to sniff at it.

“Try it, it’s delicious,” Gabriel says with a satisfied smile. “Everyone should have a sip of such ambrosia before they die.”

The Crown Prince frowns, reaching for his glass.

As he does, the servant behind him – a tall man, too well-built for a server – draws a stiletto blade from his sleeve.

I gasp, skittering back a little even as one of my hands reaches out for the prince.

But there’s nothing I can do as the servant draws the blade raw across the Crown Prince’s throat.

The Prince’s eyes go wide as blood spills down his front, his hand falling away from the cup, as he gasps and slumps forward.

Screams erupt in the room, everyone leaping to their feet. I just stare in horror as the heir to the Atalaxian Throne gasps for breath, his face desperate as his father screams his name, reaching for him.

“Come, Luna,” Gabriel says, completely calm and he bends down and reaches for me, his hand wrapping firm around my arm. “Time for us to go.”

I shift my gaze up to his devious face as Gabriel pulls me to my feet. There’s no horror there at his cousin’s murder – only cold pleasure.

“You,” I whisper, shaking my head slightly.

“Come,” he snarls, yanking me. “It is dangerous here. We go.”

Before anyone can protest or react, the new Crown Prince of Atalaxia hauls me out of the banquet chamber. I stumble after him, shocked as I realize at last the true danger of this man. I spare a glance for the Moon Valley delegation, desperately afraid that they’re going to be next, but to my relief I see that guards are already on them, leading them quickly from the room even as the nobility panic and scream their shock and protest.

Clearly, this has been very carefully coordinated. And I’m fairly sure I know by whom.