back down, except for Mateo.
“My prince, it is an honor to join your esteemed guard.”
Mateo bowed his head, his right fist pressed to his left shoulder.
“Yes, yes, you can sit down.” Prince Damian gestured at him
before grabbing a drumstick from the plate in front of him. “What
is your name?”
“Mateo, my liege,” he said as he took his seat once more.
“Well, then, Mateo, welcome. Now let’s enjoy this feast before
it grows any colder.”
And with that, everyone returned to eating. Conversations
rose again, building into a cacophony of noise, hammering through
my brain. My skull ached, the pain growing worse every time I
looked at Prince Damian. He didn’t meet my gaze once. Had he
really treated me any differently last night or had I imagined it? I
forced myself to take a bite of the macaw roasted in mint leaves,
but the freshly f lavored meat was greasy and cold in my mouth. I
could barely swallow it. I longed for the quiet and solitude of my
room — until I remembered I didn’t have my own room anymore.
89
I didn’t know how much time passed, only that the pounding
in my head was nearly unbearable, when the prince suddenly
pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. We all jumped
out of our seats as well, standing at attention.
“I have business to attend to, so I must reluctantly leave the
celebration.”
“Ahem.” Nolen cleared his throat from the corner of the
room. He’d been so silent, I’d almost forgotten he was there.
“Don’t forget your father’s, ah, desires.”
Prince Damian’s face darkened, but he nodded curtly. “Of
course not. We wouldn’t wish to anger my father.” He looked
around the table before his gaze landed on me for the first time all
night. “Alex, you will accompany me. The rest of you may enjoy
the remainder of your meal. Welcome once more, Mateo. May you
serve me well.” The prince inclined his head at Mateo, who bowed
in return. Then Damian marched past the length of the table and
swept out of the room. I hurried to follow him, my scabbard hit-
ting my leg with each step as I tried to ignore the way my heart
suddenly began to pound.
He strode down the hallway without looking back, or acknowl-
edging any of the servants or guests he passed. I practically had to
jog to keep up with his longer stride. He walked by the ballroom,
then the stairs to his wing, but kept going without even pausing.
The palace was a massive conglomerate of hundreds of years of
additions, constructed by kings and queens each trying to outdo
the previous monarchs. The newer wings were more open, more
opulent. But for some reason, Prince Damian marched right on
through them all, on and on, twisting and turning through the
90
palace until we were in the southwest wing, where the oldest mon-
archs lived long ago. I wasn’t very familiar with this wing. It was
almost always empty, practically abandoned. As we walked through
the much darker hallways, I couldn’t quite suppress a shudder.
He finally stopped before a nondescript door. “Stay here, Alex.
I’ll only be a moment.”
“My lord, not to question you, but the king’s orders were to —”
“Are you working for the king or for me, Alex?” Prince
Damian’s expression was cold, almost frightening in the dimness
of the barren hallway.
“You, my prince, of course.”
“Then stay here.”
He reached out, opened the door, and slipped into the room
before I could make out anything beyond an empty bed.
For once, it wasn’t sweltering in the palace as I stood waiting
for Prince Damian. In fact, a light breeze wafted down the hall-
way, gently lifting the hair on the back of my neck. Despite the
cooler temperature, sweat still beaded on my skin, making my
hands damp. What was he doing in there? If something happened
to him, I would be as good as dead. What was I supposed to say to
King Hector if Prince Damian got himself killed? He wouldn’t let
me come in the
“My prince, it is an honor to join your esteemed guard.”
Mateo bowed his head, his right fist pressed to his left shoulder.
“Yes, yes, you can sit down.” Prince Damian gestured at him
before grabbing a drumstick from the plate in front of him. “What
is your name?”
“Mateo, my liege,” he said as he took his seat once more.
“Well, then, Mateo, welcome. Now let’s enjoy this feast before
it grows any colder.”
And with that, everyone returned to eating. Conversations
rose again, building into a cacophony of noise, hammering through
my brain. My skull ached, the pain growing worse every time I
looked at Prince Damian. He didn’t meet my gaze once. Had he
really treated me any differently last night or had I imagined it? I
forced myself to take a bite of the macaw roasted in mint leaves,
but the freshly f lavored meat was greasy and cold in my mouth. I
could barely swallow it. I longed for the quiet and solitude of my
room — until I remembered I didn’t have my own room anymore.
89
I didn’t know how much time passed, only that the pounding
in my head was nearly unbearable, when the prince suddenly
pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. We all jumped
out of our seats as well, standing at attention.
“I have business to attend to, so I must reluctantly leave the
celebration.”
“Ahem.” Nolen cleared his throat from the corner of the
room. He’d been so silent, I’d almost forgotten he was there.
“Don’t forget your father’s, ah, desires.”
Prince Damian’s face darkened, but he nodded curtly. “Of
course not. We wouldn’t wish to anger my father.” He looked
around the table before his gaze landed on me for the first time all
night. “Alex, you will accompany me. The rest of you may enjoy
the remainder of your meal. Welcome once more, Mateo. May you
serve me well.” The prince inclined his head at Mateo, who bowed
in return. Then Damian marched past the length of the table and
swept out of the room. I hurried to follow him, my scabbard hit-
ting my leg with each step as I tried to ignore the way my heart
suddenly began to pound.
He strode down the hallway without looking back, or acknowl-
edging any of the servants or guests he passed. I practically had to
jog to keep up with his longer stride. He walked by the ballroom,
then the stairs to his wing, but kept going without even pausing.
The palace was a massive conglomerate of hundreds of years of
additions, constructed by kings and queens each trying to outdo
the previous monarchs. The newer wings were more open, more
opulent. But for some reason, Prince Damian marched right on
through them all, on and on, twisting and turning through the
90
palace until we were in the southwest wing, where the oldest mon-
archs lived long ago. I wasn’t very familiar with this wing. It was
almost always empty, practically abandoned. As we walked through
the much darker hallways, I couldn’t quite suppress a shudder.
He finally stopped before a nondescript door. “Stay here, Alex.
I’ll only be a moment.”
“My lord, not to question you, but the king’s orders were to —”
“Are you working for the king or for me, Alex?” Prince
Damian’s expression was cold, almost frightening in the dimness
of the barren hallway.
“You, my prince, of course.”
“Then stay here.”
He reached out, opened the door, and slipped into the room
before I could make out anything beyond an empty bed.
For once, it wasn’t sweltering in the palace as I stood waiting
for Prince Damian. In fact, a light breeze wafted down the hall-
way, gently lifting the hair on the back of my neck. Despite the
cooler temperature, sweat still beaded on my skin, making my
hands damp. What was he doing in there? If something happened
to him, I would be as good as dead. What was I supposed to say to
King Hector if Prince Damian got himself killed? He wouldn’t let
me come in the
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