The Prince With No Heart by Emma Holly Page A

quash the reaction, he pretended it wasn’t there.
    “First,” he said. “I thank you for your kind welcome. My own people could not have received me more graciously. However -” He paused to send his gaze around the crowded tables, letting his caveat sink in. “I marvel to hear you praise me for my courage and the princess only for her beauty. That she is a beauty I don’t deny, but she is no ‘jewel,’ no ‘possession’ to simply sit up here and sparkle.
    “For many months, while a dangerous beast assailed her, she turned his wrath from you. That more of you have not suffered losses is due to her. When she could keep the monster at bay no longer, it was this tiny maid, this woman barely out of girlhood, who left to seek aid for you. Worse, she sought it alone. None of you tried to fight Bojik, nor did any brave the perils she did to find someone to rescue you. I wonder, just a little, whether you deserve to be defended by a girl as valiant as your princess.”
    Silence reigned in the aftermath of his speech, jaws hanging open around the room.
    “Augustin,” Violet murmured, clearly embarrassed.
    Before she could object to his defense, one young man jumped to his feet at a near table. “The prince is right! We owe the princess our deepest apologies.”
    Hand over heart, he threw himself to one knee more theatrically than some might say was required. Since he was shortly joined by a dozen others, Augustin forgave him. Before a hundred hearts had beaten a hundred times, every soul in the room was offering obeisance to her.
    “Please,” Violet objected. “You needn’t do this. I love you all. It is my privilege to serve.”
    To Augustin’s delight, not a one of her subjects stirred. Violet blushed furiously as he tugged her onto her feet. Inside, he was grinning. Outside, he bowed over her small white hand with all the chivalry he possessed.
    “Your highness,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to her fingers.
    He didn’t mean for his lips to linger, but they did anyway. This might be the last time he clasped her hand in his.
    Her fingers trembled and then grew hot. With all these people watching, she wanted him. Augustin bit back a groan at the tidal wave of lust that crashed over him. If only he could have kept her. If only he could have given her the adoring, faithful heart she deserved.
    When he straightened, his vision was dangerously blurred.
    “Princess,” he said, his voice throbbing, “knowing you has been an honor and a joy.”
    He saw her startled hurt as he stepped past her. He knew she didn’t expect him to leave, not in the middle of a banquet, not after everything he’d just said. He couldn’t help that. He had to go while he had the strength.
    I’m sorry , he thought, ordering his feet to walk on. If I weren’t broken, I’d stay with you forever .
    * * *
    As soon as she could depart without causing comment, Violet escaped to Arnwall’s chapel. Shaking with relief and sorrow, she slipped into the second of its ten pews. Here the walls were stone-clad, the solitary stained glass window above the altar showing a kneeling warrior being knighted by his king. The king was Violet’s great grandfather, the source of her vivid hair. Faint rays of moonlight glimmered through his gold crown. He’d been a godly man, she had heard, and a fearless soldier.
    Violet thought that side of him would have admired Augustin.
    Her sudden sob choked her throat, the tears that followed hot and numerous. Augustin’s departure shouldn’t have caught her unprepared like this. What did she have to offer him, after all? Her kingdom was paltry when set beside the one he’d inherit. As for her, she was barely pretty, no matter what the prince was princely enough to say. If she was clever, she wasn’t clever enough to have kept Arnwall out of trouble, plus she’d treated Augustin horribly. It was ridiculous to think he’d forgive her, to hope he’d return her feelings.
    Though she was sure he meant well by