Shrouded: Heartstone Book One by Frances Pauli

they were circling her—that or pacing back and forth outside the atrium. She’d marked at least four exits from the base’s central dome. The Shrouded Princes could be down any one of them. Wherever they were, Vashia was able to sense them from a bit of a distance.
    The effect swirled through her nervous system until her heel twitched and tapped to release some of the energy. She took another bite of her breakfast and scanned the pathways. The rest of the brides giggled and gossiped and remained completely oblivious.
    “She’s coming back,” Tarren spoke around a mouthful of fruit. “Madame Nerala.”
    Vashia followed her nod to the pathway. She caught sight of their teacher approaching, but the madness inside her head pulled from the other direction. He, or they, or one of them was coming from the other side.
    “Good morning, girls!” Nerala chirped as she burst from the potted plants like some exotic bird. She flit in her multicolored skirts to the nearest table and deposited an armload of data pads. “Enjoying the view?”
    “Is there a surface?” Tarren called out. The questions exploded from the rest of them, as if the cork had been removed from their pent up curiosity.
    “How long until we go down?”
    “Can we breathe that?”
    “When are we leaving?”
    The noise almost managed to drown out the static, but whichever prince approached, Vashia’s head spun in response. She clenched her jaw and forced herself to stare at Nerala.
    “Now, now,” the woman waved the questions away and waited for quiet. “Your questions will be answered in time. I promise. But first, I have something that might help right off the start.” She patted the stack of pads and smiled like a tiger. “These will answer most of your inquiries, and once you’ve studied them, I’ll sort out the rest.” She turned her head from side to side. “Who can help me pass them around?”
    Murrel stood up. While she scurried to help Madame Nerala, Vashia snuck a look over her shoulder in time to see him step into view. She’d known he was there, but the shock of him, the primal trembling under her skin, took her breath away.
    He stalked from the plants and stopped, his eyes locking with hers immediately, as if he’d sensed her position as well. She figured he probably had. He held her gaze without flickering away while he walked around the clearing’s edge. His head turned as he passed, kept her pinned with hazel eyes that peeked between the loose strands of his hair.
    “Good morning,” Nerala hooted, but he didn’t look at her. “Dolfan? Will you be joining us this morning?”
    Dolfan.
    “I’m afraid not.” The Shrouded Prince, Dolfan–– Dolfan–– shook his head, his silky, black hair dancing above his shoulders. “But I thought I’d see how you were doing.”
    Vashia would have bet her last credit that he spoke directly to her. The static in her head thrummed. Her skin shivered, and her eyes linked to his, not flinching either. She didn’t hear what Nerala said next, though the words drew his attention enough that he turned and Vashia was released from his visual grip.
    She dropped her eyes to her hands and found them clamped around the table’s edge. Something brushed her shoulder and she jumped, rattling her chair’s legs against the tile patio. Murrel waited at her side. She held out a data pad and fixed Vashia with a sly look.
    “You all right?”
    “Fine. I’m fine.” She took the device without meeting the girl’s eyes. Her head buzzed on; she didn’t trust herself to feign normalcy. Not with him so close. Dolfan. She flicked the pad’s switch and watched words manifest on the screen: Shrouded Law and Cultural Guide for Bride Candidates. Bride. Her eyes danced to the prince and back. In less than twenty-four hours, the word had adopted a whole different meaning.

Chapter Ten
    M ofitan smiled at him when he opened the door. The bastard grinned and leaned back in the chair. His feet rested on the lip of