The reception was livelier than any ball Luvenia had ever attended in Alatir. She and her new husband entered the banquet hall to a flourish of music, and she was abruptly swept out onto the floor for the couple's first dance.
"Don't worry about stepping on my feet. I won't feel anything through these shoes."
"Maybe you'll be the first inductee into my new Order of the Broken Foot."
"Is that meant to be an honor, my dear, or a threat?"
"An award for those who have had their feet trodden upon by her gracious majesty." She performed a slow spin as he guided her. "My brother gave me the idea."
"Ah. I didn't realize Beaucaire would be here. He was invited, of course, but I hadn't expected to see him."
"His presence was a surprise gift for me."
Gorogon caught her by the waist and drew her in. "I'm glad I invited him, then. You know, I hardly recognized him after so many years."
"I do know." Luvenia watched his face closely. "The way you looked at him... That was dangerous, sire."
"You're right. Thank you for intervening. Your quick thinking saved us from a potential scandal."
"It was as much for my benefit as yours, sire. You and I are man and wife, and any misfortune that befalls one must likewise befall the other."
"I'm still grateful to you."
He nodded to her as the music swelled; taking her cue, she leapt lightly at the moment he lifted her up. Over the applause of the spectators, she could hear the cheers of her maids.
Gorogon set her down gently and took her hands to lead her through the next steps.
"Since we're man and wife, perhaps you ought to address me more affectionately. 'Sire' no longer seems appropriate, if it ever was."
"Surely you don't want me to call you 'Go-Go-Gone'."
"...Not in public, I shouldn't think. 'Darling' or 'dearest' would suffice."
"As you wish, darling."
He gave her a gentle squeeze.
When the song ended, she took his arm and leaned in to whisper: "Will you be all right if we greet my father and brother together?"
"I'll be fine, now that I'm prepared." He surprised her by brushing her cheek with his knuckles. "And now that I have you by my side."
***
Luvenia had to remind herself not to curtsey to her father. They were of equal status now, and he had no authority over her. Nothing she did in his presence could be considered treason.
Still, she gripped Gorogon's hand tightly as she inclined her head to the man who had cast his shadow over her whole life—until this day.
"Eddard of Alatir, I bid you welcome and thank you for joining us on this glorious occasion." Her voice was not as strong as she'd hoped it would be, but at least she wasn't trembling. "This day marks the dawning of a new era of peace and prosperity between our kingdoms."
She met his gaze confidently, or at least with an affect of confidence.
His eyes flicked up to her jeweled crown for just a heartbeat.
"Indeed, this is a glorious day for both Alatir and Middewold."
His emotionless words did not hurt her as they had in the past. There was no inequality in their status, no great height from which his indifference could fall upon her.
She smiled, and her smile was not a mask. She looked into his ice-blue eyes and smiled because he had no power over her any longer.
"Beaucaire of Alatir." Gorogon's face was carefully composed. "I thank you for accepting our invitation. My wife has already expressed to you her delight, I believe."
"Indeed, you majesty." Beaucaire bowed deeply. Luvenia felt a pang as she recognized the true emotions behind his smile.
"It seems only yesterday that we were boys at play in the palace of Alatir. You've become a fine young man since last I saw you."
"No more so than you, sire. How pleasing it is to see how you have flourished."
Luvenia saw the tension building in Gorogon's jaw and in Beaucaire's shoulders. She wanted to give them a moment—a few seconds, at least, to look at each other with honest eyes.
"Father..."
Eddard's piercing gaze shifted back to her, and she didn't flinch. She gestured toward the place she had last seen her maids gathered.
"Thank you for bringing Myra. She will be a great comfort to me in this unfamiliar place."
He hardly glanced in the direction she indicated. "You said you desired nothing else. Could I deny my only daughter the one gift she asked of me?"
A cold seed of fear took root deep within her. There was a threat buried in his question: she was not his only daughter—merely the only one still living.
She longed, suddenly and sharply, for Hanna's strong arms to steady her.
"I pray you pardon me, Father, but I do have one further request."
"I would be pleased to hear it."
"It concerns your most trusted servant, who guarded me during my journey and brought me here in safety."
His eyes narrowed very slightly. "What of him?"
"I have grown accustomed to his protection. Loath as I am to deprive our ally of such a man, I would be more at ease if he were to remain at my side."
She wasn't sure she could obtain Eddard's approval, but it was better than having Hanna openly defy him.
"Luvenia of Middewold." The way he said her name was almost a direct challenge. "Is this the will of Iron Hans also?"
"His will is of no consequence to me. He is yours to command."
"Have you spoken to him of this?"
"The queen of Middewold does not require the counsel of a common guard in such matters. Indeed, why would I speak to one who will not bare his face before me?"
The question held her best hope of persuading him. If he thought that not even she knew the true identity of "Iron Hans", he might be more inclined to let "him" stay as a conspicuous reminder of Alatir's strength.
"I will command him to remain in your service."
"Thank you, Father. You are most gracious."
"Your safety is paramount, my child." His eyes glinted dangerously. "You must maintain your health and bear strong sons for Middewold's king. Do this, and you will live to see your brother inherit the throne."
The seedling of fear inside Luvenia grew with violent speed, sending its thorny branches through her veins. She understood all too well what he was implying: if her marriage to Gorogon did not proceed according to his wishes, Beaucaire's life would be on the line.
"I pray," she said softly, "that my sons will see their uncle's ascent to the throne of Alatir."
The corner of Eddard's lip curled into what was almost a smile.
Luvenia was afraid, but this fear felt different in a way she had trouble identifying. There was a strength to it, an insistence that braced her shoulders and hardened her heart even as it bled.
It came to her when her father flinched—not in fear, but in shock. What he saw in her was something new, something she would never have dared to feel before.
Hatred.
She regained her composure within the space of a single breath. No matter what he threatened her with, she would not cower before him ever again.
A hand clasping her shoulder made her heart beat in double time. Beaucaire pulled his hand away at once, then bowed deeply.
"Forgive the interruption, your majesties." He offered his hand to Luvenia. "In keeping with the customs of your country, madam, I humbly request to have the next dance."
Luvenia took his hand before he had finished making his request.
"I would be delighted, sir."
***
She didn't relax until they were in the middle of the dance floor, locked in a slow waltz. Even then, she spoke so quietly that Beaucaire had to keep his ear tilted toward her.
"Did you speak to my husband?"
"Yes. Thank you for giving us the chance to get reacquainted." He smiled fondly. "It's hard to believe we hadn't seen each other for twelve years. He's just like I remembered him, except he's not taller than me anymore."
"I'm glad you have strong memories of him. I only recall a moment or two."
"Well, you were only four."
"Five! And don't act like you were all grown up back then."
"Eleven is more grown-up than five."
"Yes, very good, you understand how numbers work."
They grinned at each other. For a moment, it felt just like they were children again, before they learned the meaning of sorrow—before they had lost so much.
"I wish you could stay longer." She tightened her grip on him. "I hate to think of you locked up again."
"You know it's not that bad. It's gotten a bit better recently. He lets me visit the garden once a week."
"Beau, that's still really bad."
"Lu..." His light gray eyes were full of affection. "I don't mind, really. As long as I can keep my promise to you, it's a small price to pay."
He pressed his forehead to hers. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the hollow feeling in her chest.
"At least you don't need to worry about me so much," she murmured. "I should be safe here."
Beaucaire raised his head with a worried look. "You still need to be careful. After you left, our father told me that Iron Hans–"
A panicked shout cut through the music and conversation:
"Call the guards! Someone's been attacked!"
Luvenia recognized Myra's voice. She pulled away from Beaucaire, gathered her skirts, and hurried through the scattering crowds of guests.
She spotted a familiar cloak and changed direction. "Hans! Where's Myra?"
"Iron Hans" led her out of the ballroom and down a hallway. They found the maids clustered together around the first corner. Millie was kneeling on the floor, sobbing, while the others tried to comfort her.
Luvenia started toward them, then felt something hard under her foot. She took a step back and saw a petal-pink pearl pressed into the carpet. There were more pearls scattered along the hall, each one the same pastel shade.
"Oh, Millie..." She dropped to her knees to put her arms around the maid. "Who did this to you?"
"Miss—madam–" Millie took a ragged breath. "You shouldn't—I'm—I didn't–" She whimpered and burst into fresh tears.
Luvenia stroked her hair soothingly and looked up at the others. "Did any of you see what happened?"
"No, madam. We were enjoying the party–"
"–and we decided to split up–"
"–so none of us were with her."
Millie raised her head. Her hands trembled as she gripped Luvenia's arms.
"Madam... your mother's necklace..."
Vivid red lines marked where someone had viciously torn the collar of pearls from Millie's neck.
Rage like a cold flame flickered to life in Luvenia's heart.
"Don't worry about the necklace. It's worthless compared to you." She took Millie's face in her hands. "No matter what happened, it wasn't your fault. Do you understand? The only one to blame for this is whoever hurt you."
Millie nodded, sniffling.
Luvenia gave her a last reassuring squeeze before rising to her feet.
"Myra, Mellie, take care of Millie and have a doctor tend to her. Mollie, find two servants on duty and have them gather up the pearls—don't do it yourself; I want witnesses to this situation. The pearls should be stored in my jewelry box until we can get them restrung properly."
"Yes, your majesty."
"Don't worry about a thing, madam."
"We'll take care of everything."
She turned to where "Iron Hans" stood waiting for her.
"Come with me. I need you at my back when I speak to the guests."
As they walked back to the ballroom, Hanna leaned down to murmur in Luvenia's ear: "What will you tell them?"
"The truth."
She couldn't see Hanna's face under the hood, but she sensed the woman's discomfort.
"The relevant truth," she clarified.
"Very good, madam."
Hanna straightened up and at once took on an air of effortless might.
There were a few knights standing at attention where the hallway opened into the ballroom. They glanced with half-hidden anxiety at their new queen and her burly bodyguard.
"My dear!" Gorogon met her with outstretched hands. "I posted knights at either end of the corridor, but perhaps I ought to have followed you."
"It's all right, darling. The incident is over." She gave him a smile she hoped he'd understand. "Would you mind if I said a few words to our guests?"
"Not at all, my love."
He stood to one side and raised a hand, silencing the nervous chatter of the guests, then gave her a subtle wink.
Luvenia adjusted her posture and looked over the assembly.
"Esteemed guests, pardon the disturbance. One of my servants has been assaulted and harmed."
She waited for the resulting hubbub to die down before continuing.
"Have no fear, I pray you. We have taken steps to ensure your continued safety. Anyone who dares to harm an ally, a guest, or even a servant of the crown of Middewold shall be considered an enemy of our kingdom."
She couldn't be sure whether any of the guests were responsible, but Millie's reluctance to name the culprit made her suspect they were of high rank. She wanted all of them to know that their positions would not save them from her wrath.
Gorogon joined her and took her hand.
"My queen speaks the truth. Be of good cheer, my friends, and continue to celebrate this joyous occasion with us."
He turned away from the guests, who took the hint and dispersed to resume making merry.
"Are you all right, my dear?"
"Yes." It wasn't true, but it was at least less untrue than usual. "I'm just upset that someone would hurt Millie."
"I understand. Would you like to retire early?"
"If it wouldn't inconvenience you."
"Gods, not at all. I'd rather not talk to anyone else tonight. Just let me have a word with Duke Ruolu, then we can go."
She had forgotten that they would need to leave together. It was their wedding night, after all.
As Gorogon conferred with the duke, she turned to "Iron Hans" without meaning to.
"I... I'll see you tomorrow. Watch over the girls tonight."
The cloaked figure nodded. Luvenia again felt a great longing to be surrounded by those strong arms, even just for a moment.
"My father said you can stay, but—be careful when you see him."
"I'll be fine," whispered Hanna. "Go on."
Her voice was gentle, but Luvenia winced as if she'd been slapped.
A final whispered word struck her full in the sternum:
"Congratulations."