If It Isn't Real

It is the dead of night when we return from the ball and

Tristan and I swap money for letters in my rooms. Damien is with us, insisting he wouldn't miss out on the fun. And he also proclaims to be an excellent forger. Tristan and I look over his shoulder as he finishes the letter.

Dearest Melita,

I have watched you from afar for too long. I can no longer keep my feelings to myself. Your beauty is like the light of the sun. It almost hurts to look at you, and you make it impossible for me to look at anyone else.

Please, I must speak with you alone. Will you meet me in your rooms at nine o'clock on the evening of the ___? Will you greet me with a kiss, so I may know if your feelings for me burn as brightly as mine do for you?

Your humble servant,

Harris Galopas, Earl of Eliades

We compare his writing to the note Harris sent me. Damien has managed the shape of Harris's letters perfectly. No one would know the difference. It's unlikely that the note will fall into anyone's hands but Melita's, but better safe than sorry. If our plan to save Tristan from this marriage is to work, it needs to be flawless.

"What now?" Tristan asks.

"Now all that's left," I say, "is to wait for Harris to arrive back at the palace. When he does, we add the date to the letter, and then I will seal it with Harris's crest. Then you must get this letter to Melita without her spotting you delivering it."

"But how will you get his crest?"

Damien stands from his chair and cracks his back. "He's in love with her, you dolt. How do you think she'll gain access to his rooms and get his crest? She'll play him."

Tristan grips me in a hug, smashing me against his bright red-and-yellow-brocade vest. "You really are the best, Loralie. If this works, I owe you my life."

"Don't be so dramatic," Damien chuckles.

"Would you want a life with Melita?" Tristan challenges.

"Fair point. Yes, you owe her your life. And I'll take the fifty necos you promised for the use of my penmanship."

"When did I promise you that?"

I leave the two of them to playfully bicker, my skirts heavily ladened with an envelope full of money.

***

I decide to spend my morning away from the palace, running a few necessary errands. I distribute Tristan's money carefully, wisely, and when I return to the palace, my smile is full and earnest.

Until I run into Lord Ivan Vasco on the way back to my rooms.

"Ah, Lady Kensington, just who I was looking for."

"Is everything all right?" I ask.

"Of course. Why shouldn't everything be all right?"

"Because the head of the king's council has sought me out. You practically threatened me during our last conversation."

Vasco tilts his head to the side. "You and I remember that conversation very differently."

I smile politely, but my teeth grind together behind my lips.

"No, I merely wanted to ask how your courtship with the king is coming along. Kassian is so private. The young king won't say a word about it."

"And neither will I."

Vasco nods to himself, as though expecting this answer. "I wonder if that is perhaps because the courtship isn't happening at all?"

I blink. "I beg your pardon?"

"He sends you gifts, and you enjoy each other's company during mealtimes, but what else? To my knowledge, you spend no other time with each other. He does not accompany you to any events. Has he even kissed you yet?"

I round on the man. "That is none of your business. And you know perfectly well just how busy the king is. He doesn't attend events with me because he's in meetings with you and the council."

"To be sure, I know exactly what Kassian spends his time doing. But he has a council to take care of things until he is of age. Now is the perfect opportunity to rely on us to run the kingdom for him while he spends his time with a beautiful young lady such as yourself."

I can't think of a single thing to say to the man in return.

"Unless of course the courtship isn't real. In which case, the council will start arranging for more ladies to meet with the king, and we will have no use for you."

And with that, Vasco leaves.

I fucking hate not having the last word in a conversation.

Absolutely loathe it. What's worse, the council isn't falling for our ruse. And if there's no ruse, then Kassian has no need to keep me around. How am I to win him for real, then?

I let myself into my rooms, Vasco's threats ripe within my mind.

"Loralie."

I jump a foot into the air. How the blazes do people keep getting into my rooms?

"Death."

He crosses his arms over his chest. "I thought perhaps my letters to you were going astray, but it would appear you are receiving your mail just fine." His eyes point toward the mountain of invitations I've already opened and read. Among them is Harris's love letter. Tristan returned it to me, having no use for it after Damien made his forgery. I frown at it distastefully.

"I was getting around to writing you."

"Undoubtedly," he says with sarcasm. "You've gotten caught up in the palace. In the finery. In the attention. You've forgotten your entire purpose for being here."

A headache pounds at my temples, and red tinges the corners of my vision. "I've been focusing on winning the king's favor, which is why I haven't had time to write you. Things are progressing perfectly. If there were something to tell you, I'd tell you."

He paces back and forth in front of my wardrobe.

"Perfectly, is it? Then perhaps you can tell me why word has reached me that the king never accompanies you to events outside the palace? In fact, I hear you're in the company of that Calligaris boy constantly."

I can't focus on Death as my eye begins to twitch. "I assure you I have everything under control. There's no need to fret. I have the king right where I want him. And Myron will no longer be an issue. In fact, once I have a chat with him, he'll be leaving the palace. Permanently."

Death's face changes. At first, I cannot read it. Then it dawns on me with horror. Pity.

"Loralie, darling, you tried your best. There comes a time when we must admit we've been defeated. You had a good run at the palace, but the king clearly doesn't want you. But don't you worry. We are not ruined. I've made plans."

My fingers slowly curl into fists at my sides. "What did you do?"

"I reached out to Lord Eliades. No, don't give me that look. He's rich, and he will give me a nice bride-price for your hand."

"He's an earl!"

"I am the king of hell, it wouldn't matter much."

"You deemed him unacceptable for Jessica but acceptable for me?"

He pauses only a beat before saying, "Your circumstances are different."

Because she is his favorite, and I am not. "The point is to elevate my station! Why would you try to make me a countess when I'm trying to become a queen?"

Death shakes his head sadly. "I'm proud of you for trying, but it's an important lesson to learn to recognize when you've been beaten."

I know when I've been beaten, and I have barely even started.

"You will see reason," he adds. "Once you've had time to come to terms with everything. Now why don't you let me escort you home?"

I look up to the ceiling, gathering my thoughts and calming my tone. "Let me make things perfectly clear, Death. I am not cattle you can sell off, and you can't force me into a marriage I don't want. Not when the king himself is providing for my every comfort."

Father purses his lips. "You will wed Harris or be disinherited."

"Then disinherit me! The king sends me expensive gifts. I have plenty of money, and I live in the palace. There is nothing you can do to threaten me. You've outlived your usefulness, Father." I bite out each word in bitter hatred, "Dare not forget, you used me to get rebel kingdoms. You got me into the palace, and now I can take it from here. In fact, once I win the king's favor, I'll make sure you don't see one penny out of my treasury."

The room goes quiet, and Father looks at me in alarm for all of a second. "Take some time before you resort to dramatics, Loralie. I will check in with you later."

He strides from the room, but his steps are unsure.