And yet, the perception of her position, particularly as widely known apprentice to Queen Andromeda occasionally amplified reactions to her. At Elderhorst, it hadn’t been an issue, as King Groningen had been as apt to chuck her under the chin and remind her what a troublesome toddler she’d been. With the reclusive monarchs of a distant subsidiary kingdom, she was on less solid footing. A flicker of movement caught her eye, and for a moment, a white horse seemed to prance past and was gone. Magic, of a kind she’d never before encountered, shimmered in the air.
“Princess Stella,” Queen Nix said warmly, startling her from her reverie. “It’s a delight to receive you here in our court.”
“Indeed,” King Cavan said with a charming smile. “You are the spitting image of your mother.”
“Oh, Cavan,” the queen chided, rolling her eyes. “Her Highness looks like Queen Andromeda if anyone, with all that dark hair. Prince Astar has their mother’s coloring.”
“Astar looks very much like our father, Your Highnesses,” Stella said with a smile. She could swear she could see a horse. There and gone again. “Neither of us can hold a candle to our mother’s goddess-gifted beauty, though I’m flattered by the comparison.”
“Well, my old dress looks lovely on you.” Nix smiled and patted her flat belly. “After seven children, my waistline no longer allows me to wear it. You’ll take it with you, I hope.”
Startled, Stella realized she and Nix were very much of a size, though Nix had a fuller, mature woman’s figure. “Thank you so much, Your Highness. I will treasure the gift.”
Nix’s gaze went past her. “And who is your handsome escort?”
Stella glanced back to find Jak waiting at relaxed attention where she’d left him, hands folded behind his back, dark eyes alert. Gesturing him forward, she noted a flicker of surprise in him—perhaps unease?—before he strode up, sweeping a deep bow to the royal couple. “Jakral Konyngrr,” Stella told them. “A longtime friend.”
“Konyngrr.” Cavan tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Related to Prince Harlan, Her Majesty’s consort?”
“My uncle, Your Highnesses,” Jak agreed, a hint of reserve in his voice. Wondering at it, Stella opened her senses to him, finding him surprisingly tense.
“Aha!” Cavan nodded. “I’ve placed you now. You’re General Kral’s son, the man who sought to be emperor of all Dasnaria and became a sailor instead.”
Jack settled into his apparently relaxed stance again, arms folded behind his back. So as not to be tempted to draw a blade, Stella realized. “The very one, Your Highness.”
“Is it true,” Cavan asked in a conspiratorial tone, as if everyone present couldn’t hear, “that your father’s ship, the…”
“The Hákyrling,” Jak supplied easily, his tension increasing.
“Yes, the Hákyrling—has it truly engaged Kooncelund frigates south of the Sentinels?”
Long habit allowed Stella to keep her expression cool and remote, but this was news to her. Jak made a show of frowning, though Stella read the lie in him clearly when he answered. “I’ve no knowledge of such encounters.”
“Hmm.” Cavan narrowed gray eyes gone sharp. “I wonder if—”
“Cavan,” Nix said, interrupting him with a hand on his arm. “This is a party. Tomorrow is time enough for political conversations. Our young visitors have come on a quest, after all.”
“Fine, fine,” Cavan replied genially, stroking his silver-threaded, dark beard. “Your brother mentioned you hoped to travel to the Isles of Remus to meet with our son, Isyn.”
Something in his forbidding demeanor warned her the answer wasn’t promising. “Yes. Her Majesty specifically requested we pay a visit to King Isyn, to make diplomatic overtures. Will we be able to accomplish her request?”
Cavan and Nix exchanged glances. “That’s something of a complicated answer,” Nix replied. “We’ll explain in full tomorrow. For now, please enjoy the party.”
Dismissed, Stella inclined her head, and Jak bowed again. As he escorted her away, guiding them to the fringes of the crowd, she bent her head closer to his. “What’s this about the Hákyrling encountering Kooncelund ships?”
He rolled his eyes. “How can rumor fly so fast when we can’t get clear messages from Ordnung?”
“Jak.”
“Stella.”
“You’re ducking the question.”
“I have an idea,” he said, quickening his pace toward a set of glass-paned doors leading onto a terrace. Opening one, he stuck his head out. “Not too chilly. And there are fire pits.” He tugged her out with him, leaving the door ajar so music swept out behind them.
The terrace was empty of people, the firepits scattered around circled by chairs in conversational groups. Out in the open air, the psychic pressure of the crowd lightened, and Stella breathed a sigh of release. “I want you to tell me about the Kooncelund ships,” she said, determined not to be distracted.
“And I want to dance with you,” Jak replied, sweeping her a bow. Straightening, he grimaced at whatever he saw in her face. “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. Danu knows Cavan seems intent on grilling me. For tonight, I just want to savor being with you, in this beautiful dress you wore just for me.” His gaze caressed over her bosom, and she had no doubt the chill had her breasts standing at more attention than ever. To think she’d forgotten about her dress for a while.
Jak held out his hands, inviting her to step into them, so she did. His upper hand closed gently over hers, his other arm going about her waist. She set her hand on his velvet-clad shoulder, meeting his dark, intent gaze. Feeling suddenly shy, she searched his face. Tonight is to show him how very much you deserve and appreciate his unswerving attention. Having Jak’s full attention was a heady experience, and she felt stripped bare by it.
“Are you cold?” he asked softly.
“No.” In fact, she felt overwarm, flushed and needy.
“Good.” His voice was an intimate murmur amidst the firelit shadows. Catching the upsweep of the music, he moved her into the dance, leading with the deft agility that characterized everything he did. His eyes never left her face as he moved them in ever-widening circles, whirling them faster and faster over the stone terrace, their only audience the crackling fires. A laugh welled up inside her, ebullient and effervescent as the sparkling wine, and she threw back her head to release it. The stars shimmered overhead, brighter and denser than she’d ever seen them.
Jak laughed with her, releasing her to twirl at the tip of his fingers like a spinning dagger, then reeling her back into his arms. The music hit a crescendo, the notes swelling and throbbing like a heartbeat, then drifted away. In the ensuing quiet, only the flames snapped. Jak splayed his hand on her bare back, caressing her lightly there. “Is this touch all right?”
“Yes.” Her voice came out on a whisper. “I’m growing accustomed to feeling you in my head.”
His lips quirked. “That doesn’t sound like a positive, but I’ll take it. I have to say, I really love this dress.” His fingers glided up the line of her spine to the exposed nape of her neck and down again. “And I love hearing you laugh.”