Chapter 4~ Behind the Mask

PRINCESS DACIANA

The next morning a harsh rapping at my chamber door jolted me awake. Before I could even protest, Lady Blaire swept into the room, her expression as cold as winter’s breath.

“Rise at once, Daciana,” she commanded. “You have already squandered enough of the morning. Royal duties await.”

Suppressing a groan, I pulled myself from the warmth of my bed. The maids rushed in at her signal, they stripped away my nightclothes and draped me in a royal attire but today I welcomed it because today, I would find my masked Prince.

“Do try to appear more enthusiastic,” Aunt Blaire chided, her lips twisting into a scornful arch. “You represent not only yourself but this kingdom. Do not tarnish our name with your sulking.”

I offered her a polite, if tight, smile. “Of course, Aunt. I shall behave in the most exemplary fashion.”

A knowing scoff escaped her, but she stepped aside, allowing the maids to finish pinning my hair with delicate pearls. Once the preparations were complete, I was escorted through the labyrinthine halls.

The heavy double doors opened, revealing the sprawling expanse of the breakfast hall. At the far end of the hall, the ten princes stood assembled.

Avery’s warning ran through my mind, I had to choose a befitting King whose alliance would grow Whitespire or risk having my head pinned on a spike.

Taking a deep breath, I walked in. Tea had been arranged upon the grand table, the scent of spiced chai wafted up as I approached, my heart fluttering in anticipation. My gaze drifted over the assembly, searching... for HIM.

The princes greeted me with the usual flattery and courtly words, but I heard little of their pleasantries. My eyes darted from one face to another searching for green eyes or a bandaged arm.

Prince Aric had green eyes but slender frame couldn’t be that of the man who held me strongly last night.

Moving on, I found myself face-to-face with Prince Gilbert of Suncrest. His eyes, too, gleamed a rich green, though they lacked the intensity that had haunted my dreams. He was impeccably formal.

“My lady, to be struck by an arrow would surely be the gravest of misfortunes,” he remarked, the corners of his mouth twitching in disapproval when I playfully hinted at a hunt.

“Oh, but a well-aimed shot carries its own beauty, does it not?” I challenged, watching for a flicker of recognition, anything that would betray him.

“Preposterous,” Gilbert scoffed, his nose wrinkling as though I had suggested we chase pheasants through the dining hall. I allowed a smile to play on my lips, disguising my irritation with a coy giggle. But beneath my mask of mirth, disappointment gnawed. It was clear this stiff prince could never be the masked stranger.

As the tea continued, I grew more restless. None had those green eyes or bore a sign of injury. My eyes roved over their figures, searching for the smallest hint, but it was as though last night had been a fevered dream, a figment conjured by my restless mind.

I got bored conversing with them and took my seat the princes all gave their full attention it was rather unpleasant but then I noticed a movement. A prince stood up and I watched as he spoke to a guard, studying the curve of his jaw, the way his lips moved as he spoke. What was his name again? Prince Tariq of Ravensfall. Yes, that was it. I had overlooked him during the earlier introductions, distracted. But now, he had my full attention.

As the tea gathering concluded, I called for my steward. “Deliver a message, if you would,” I instructed him quietly, handing over the parchment sealed with my insignia. “To Prince Tariq. Inform him that it would be my pleasure to dine with him privately this evening with a chaperon of course.”

The steward’s eyes widened with delight. “A splendid choice, Your Highness,” he murmured, bowing deeply before scurrying away.

Satisfied, I turned on my heel as I departed the hall.

The afternoon slipped by in a blur of duties and soon it was time for my dinner.

“Do not ruin your dinner tonight Daciana,” Aunt Blaire lectured, her fingers deftly adjusting the lace at my collar. “Do not forget your manners. Allow the gentleman to lead, smile flirt a little but remember you are the prize so act like it.”

I gave a polite nod, a bit nervous I made a few adjustments to my gown and hopefully everything would go smoothly like I planned.

By the time the last pin was set in my hair, the sun had dipped below the horizon. With a final glance in the mirror, I was escorted to the dining chambers where the prince awaited. The scent of spiced meat and roasted chestnuts wafted through the air as I entered, the candlelight casting a warm glow over the richly adorned table.

Prince Tariq stood, a polite smile on his lips, though his eyes betrayed a curiosity that mirrored my own. “Your Highness,” he greeted with a slight bow. “I am honored by this invitation.”

“The honor is mine,” I responded with a gracious smile, letting my gaze linger on his face, searching for any sign of recognition. But his expression remained fixed.

He took my hand and led me to the table pulling back the chair so I could settle in, I mouthed a thank you while he took his seat at the other end, the room was almost empty only a guard stood who was our chaperon.

“Would you care for wine, Your Grace?” I asked swiftly, reaching for the crystal decanter before he could respond. His brows lifted, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, but he nodded.

“No my lady I won’t let you-

“I insist” I interrupted already taking his goblet and filling it before doing the same to mine.

I could hear my aunt voice within her sharp tone scolding me for such mannerisms.

He took a sip, his gaze never leaving mine.

“You are from Ravensfall is that right?” I questioned casually.

“Yes your grace, our great kingdom is known for its rich soil with White... I'm sorry I feel a bit dizzy ehm...

He trailed off looking disoriented and suddenly his hand trembled, the goblet slipping from his grasp. It clattered against the table, spilling crimson across the white tablecloth I pushed back my chair quickly to avoid the mess.

“Tariq?” I called out. The prince’s eyes had already glazed over, his frame slumping forward. The room erupted into chaos as his bodyguard lunged forward, but I was quicker. My hand darted beneath the layers of my gown, producing a knife gleaming in the candlelight.

In an instant, I had the blade pressed against the guard’s throat. “Still your movements,” I commanded in a low whisper, my breath hot against his ear.

He stilled, his emerald eyes wide with shock.

Those piercing green eyes... my masked man was no Prince he was a fucking guard.