The Rebel Prince (The Season Series #3)

Chapter 17

My headache returned with a splitting intensity later that afternoon, but I was determined not to miss the ball scheduled for that evening. After a lengthy afternoon nap and a vile-tasting tonic from Giles, the throbbing behind my eyes slowly abated as the sun set. I waited to hear the string music wafting up from the ballroom before I descended, more intent upon observation than participation.

I made my entrance quietly, without fanfare and without being announced, slipping in through one of the side doors from the gardens. I secured myself a drink from a passing servant, meant solely as a prop and not for its contents. No amount of gold or bribery could have compelled me to drink that night, least of all among the poisonous vipers of the Ardalonian royal court.

Lurking behind one of the many marble pillars, I observed the nobles, taking time to note who spent the most time talking together and went to great lengths to avoid each other. I kept one eye on Ana-Cristina and Dulciana, slipping into the crowd to find a new lurking spot whenever one of them noticed me. I wanted to be sure they noted my attendance, but I had no desire to speak to either of them.

As the day had drawn on and the reality that I'd almost lost my life the night before finally processed in my head, my wrath towards Dulciana had grown into quite the formidable beast. I doubted whether I'd be able to preserve my calm facade if she dared approach. I took some small measure of satisfaction, however, when I noticed Armando standing rigidly behind the throne, a shining purple eye to match the battered cheekbone just below it.

At least someone had been punished.

The other young nobles that had accompanied us appeared no worse for wear, which again served to feed the rage growing inside me. Clearly the poison in my drinks had been deliberately directed to me, not a blanket plot to poison nobles by some unhappy commoner working in the questionable establishment we'd visited.

My eyes wandered toward the Duque Delminas and his son, the pair of them huddled in a corner as the son, Guillermo Peñarisco, followed Ana-Cristina with his eyes. He was just as sullen as he had been the evening before, albeit far more sober. His mother, the ravishingly beautiful Duquesa Delminas, was conversing with Dulciana and the Duquesa Delbosque, in what appeared to be more of a verbal sparring match than a conversation. I was attempting to puzzle out whose side Dulciana was favouring when I noticed the Duque Delbosque headed my way.

"Good evening, your Grace," I said, forgoing my usual attempt at clumsy Ardal as he took up a place beside me, surveying the ballroom.

"A very pleasant evening indeed, your Highness," he said, inspecting me out of the corner of his eye. "I daresay more pleasant than the last, yes?"

I looked over at him, careful to keep my face frigid and unreadable.

"I never allow my sons to venture down to Relizia," the duque continued, undeterred. "Terribly dangerous place, even for one who speaks the language. You must have a guardian angel looking out for you to have made it back in one piece."

"Indeed," I said, as much frost in my tone as on my face. I was already running low on patience, but it would not do to unleash my wrath against my devious betrothed on an unsuspecting duque. Keeping my eyes on the ball guests, I fervently wished he'd walk away and find someone else to converse with, for I had no desire to partake in the veiled double-entendres and subtle jabs that comprised a conversation with an Ardalonian noble.

"You must think me terribly forward to be scolding a prince as if he were my own son," the duque chuckled, looking down into his drink.

I bit back my sigh. Clearly he was not leaving any time soon, not until he spat out whatever it was he'd sauntered over to say.