I Am Not What I Used To Be

Potted roses line the entrances to the ballroom. They form a maze like path to the refreshment table, before opening up in the center of the room to allow plenty of space for the dancing.

Every member of the orchestra wears a black rose—the men in their breast pockets, the ladies in their hair—in honor of the late queen.

I had the ballroom painted, so it looks like ivy climbs up the columns. Green rugs line the floors, perfectly imitating grass. Rose petals have been sprinkled over the ground, giving off a soft fragrance.

It took several manservants and long ladders, but we also managed to dangle bouquets of roses from the ceiling. An occasional petal will fall, raining the floor with even more. I ordered tapestries to go along the walls, making them appear as though the edges of a garden rest all around us.

The electric chandeliers shine brightly. I wanted everything well lit. Not only to give the illusion of noonday in the garden, but so that any treachery or deceit would be impossible to hide behind shadows.

No one is killing my king tonight.

Guests have already started to pour in, though the ball doesn't officially start for another ten minutes. I can see everything from above, where I wait on the staircase, overlooking my arrangements. As it is my ball, I get to make a grand entrance, so I bide my time waiting until the right moment.

Really, I'm just waiting for Kassian to show up. I wouldn't want him to miss seeing me in my new dress.

I've outdone myself.

Overall, the dress is a light yellow. Every few inches, the fabric folds over itself as it moves upward, to give the shape of a rose's overlapping petals. I've stained the tip of each fold a bright red orange to match the fine roses found in the queen's garden. Normally I'm not overly fond of the color orange, but the queen's roses (and my dress by design) are simply divine. I wear a hoop skirt beneath the layers of silk, but the bodice is fitted, the top sleeveless, and my matching yellow gloves are dotted orange at my fingertips.

I've pinned my hair to one side, so it falls down my left shoulder, leaving my neck bare on the right side. I've curled the strands so they fall in perfect ringlets, a black wonder over the light fabric.

When Kassian does finally arrive, he doesn't have himself announced. Rather, he tries to enter quietly, going right for the throne on the dais. Having seen the fabric I was using to make my dress, he wears a matching yellow waistcoat—so light it could be mistaken for white. It looks remarkable against his bronze skin.

As soon as he is seated, I give the herald orders to announce me.

"Our hostess, Lady Loralie Kensington, Child of Fate and Time."

I hold up my dress in both hands and let a light smile grace my features as I descend the stairs.

All heads turn in my direction.

And I know it's not just my stunning gown that causes their chattering. I'm the girl who caught the eye of the king. The girl who has the council following her strategies. The girl who saved the king from an assassination attack.

I've worked up quite a reputation indeed.

And tonight, Kassian will propose and shock everyone. He watches me now, as I take each careful step. The dress is wide enough to allow my legs plenty of movement, but the floor-length hem and heeled boots make tripping an easy feat.

Yet I keep my eyes on him. With that heated gaze on me, I can see just how much Kassian wants me. It is no longer a question of attraction between us. It is a matter of keeping himself safe from attack.

We have a good arrangement. We'll both have what we want after tonight. He'll have a queen to help him manage and balance the council. He'll have someone on his side whom he trusts. The only person he trusts.

And in return I get power. The power to rule a kingdom at Kassian's side once he turns twenty-one. It'll only be another seventeen months.

When I reach the bottom of the steps, Kassian doesn't approach me. In fact, he turns away, engaging one of his nearby council members in conversation. Disappointment and irritation mingle within me, but I keep my face in a pleasant smile.

I think to start welcoming my guests, but as I take a few steps in one direction, the partygoers … scatter.

What the fuck?

Perhaps I've only imagined it? I head for the refreshment table, thinking to check on the food arrangements. Skirts sway from my path, and a group of gentlemen cut off their conversation mid sentence to turn away from me and find somewhere else to stand.

What is the matter with everyone?

When I'm steps away from the table, I relax as someone approaches me. Until I realize it's my father.

"I don't recall sending you an invitation," I say, distracting myself with a glass of champagne from the table.

"Must have slipped your mind," Death says. But once he gets close enough not to be overheard, he adds, "I'm here to rescue you, Loralie."

I take a sip from my glass as though I don't hear him. It takes an unbelievable amount of control to not gag.

Death is hoping to get a reaction from me. It won't happen.

"Did you hear me, Loralie? I'm going to save you and your reputation." Again, I say nothing.

"What with the rumors of your crime spreading like wildfire, we must keep you safe by wedding you off right away to a powerful man."

My eyes flit to Father's face. "Rumors of my crime?"

"Yes, the murder of Jason. Everyone is talking of It." That's why everyone is suddenly giving me a wide berth. They think me a murderess.

Damn Faustus. He must know the king cleared me of all charges, but that didn't stop him from running his tongue.

"Don't worry, darling," Father says. "A hasty marriage will offer you some protection. I've been talking with the Viscount of Thoricus—"

"Tristan's father?"

"You're familiar with his son, then? Wonderful. He recently ended his engagement with a baron's daughter. The two of you will make a smart match."

I nearly spit out the champagne in my mouth. "So now I'm to marry someone beneath my station?"

"He has money, Loralie. And with my dear friend Eliades behind bars, we can't very well rely on him anymore."

I set my empty champagne glass down on a tray as a servant walks by. Then I face my father fully. "So nothing less than a duke will do for Jessica, but I'm to wed a future viscount. Is that it?"

"You can hardly afford to be picky with the way people are talking about you."

I startle my father when I start laughing. "You never listen to me. You never have, but let me be clear. I don't need you to save me. I don't need a hasty marriage. I have the king, and he has pardoned me of all charges. You would know this if you ever bothered to ask me about the situation instead of coming to your own conclusions and solutions.

"He's proposing to me tonight," I finish.

"He hasn't asked my permission—"

"He doesn't need to. He's the king, and as I said, you're not getting a cent out of the treasury for me."

He tries to get in another sentence, but I don't let him.

"No. This is my party. My night. You do not get to ruin it." I eye a couple of guards against the walls. When I catch their attention, I beckon them to me with a hand.

I half expect them not to listen. But they do. Two young men come striding forward, rifles slung over their shoulders.

"Yes, my lady?" one of them asks.

"Have the earl escorted from the ball. He's not welcome. If he does not leave willingly, you have my permission to use force."

Death lets out one laugh. "Who do you think you are? The queen?" But the two guards step between me and my father. "This way, my lord."

Death looks upon me with bewilderment. And then, for the briefest of moments, I feel that he finally sees me. My ambition. My cunning. My achievements. The guards heeding my commands are proof enough of what I've been trying to explain to him for weeks.

I have achieved exactly what I set out to do.

I am not what I used to be

And then Death seems to realize that if that's true, then what I said about not receiving a bride-price for me must be true as well. His face turns to one of panic as the guards grip his arms firmly and escort him away.