House of Shadows (Royal Houses 2)

“We do not know,” Bayton said, glancing uneasily at her sister.

“But court has not been the same since he left,” Benton added.

They reached the top of the stairs, and Benton and Bayton went completely still. Then, they dipped into a low curtsy.

“Princess Wynter,” they said in unison.

Kerrigan took their lead and dropped low. Princess? Who was this girl? The figure before her was hardly how Kerrigan expected a princess to dress, but what did she know about this bloody court?

“What is going on here?” Princess Wynter asked.

Kerrigan rose with the twins and got a good look at the woman. Princess Wynter was dressed in all black—a loose black tunic tucked into tight fighting pants. Her boots were quality leather, laced up to her knees. A bow was slung over her back with a quiver of arrows attached to her hip. Her hair was down to the middle of her back and the same color as her skin—white as snow. She had uncanny light-blue eyes that seemed to suck life out of the world.

“Ma’am, we’re escorting Miss Kerrigan to get ready for dinner.”

Wynter tilted her head to the side. She was practically ageless. She could have been seventeen, like Kerrigan, or three hundred, but either way, those eyes were something altogether different.

“I shall join you,” she declared. “I need to prepare as well.”

Benton nodded, even as Bayton clenched her hands into fists. “As you wish, my lady.”

“Bayton, fetch my attendants as well.”

Bayton dipped into another curtsy and then all but fled. Benton, to her credit, held her head up as she directed them down the hallway.

Wynter fell into step next to Kerrigan. Her eyes were forward, but it felt as if she were weighing her. “So, you are Fordham’s new interest.”

Kerrigan kept her face carefully neutral. New interest was such a clever way to say concubine. Though the more interesting part of the sentence was using Fordham’s given name. This was his sister. So it made sense. And yet, it made little sense at the same time.

“I suppose that I am.”

“Well, you are beautiful. I’ll give him that for taste.”

Kerrigan tried not to laugh but couldn’t help it. “Beautiful? Me? I hardly think that’s what did it.”

Beautiful wasn’t usually anyone’s choice word for her. Between the uncontrollably curly red hair, freckled face, and mouth that never seemed to know when to shut up, she’d gotten rambunctious, obstinate, and intimidating before beautiful.

And Fordham, of all people, had thought that she was an insult. She’d been sent by the Society to work for him during the tournament because the servants were too scared of him. That didn’t exactly go as planned—until she had prophetic dreams about him. The only thing he seemed to like less than a mouthy half-Fae shadowing him was one who actually helped him. Feelings for her enemy had only come later… when she stopped thinking of him as her enemy.

“Well, you’re not like the last one. That’s for certain,” the princess said.

Kerrigan forced herself not to react to that. Surely, Wynter was baiting her. “So, you must know the inner workings of the court then.”

Wynter arched a pale eyebrow. “Of course.”

Kerrigan hated to show her ignorance, but she needed answers. She couldn’t go on, not knowing what she was walking into. “Well, what is this dinner? Am I to meet the king?”

Wynter eyed her skeptically. “No one told you?”

Benton opened the door to reveal a room full of hundreds of stunning gowns. “Here we are, my ladies.”

Kerrigan met Benton’s gaze, and she shook her head just once. A warning. Don’t confide in Wynter. Don’t give her your secrets. You’ve already said too much.

But Wynter was waiting for an answer.

“No. No one told me.”

Wynter smiled at her. It was supposed to be friendly, but somehow, it only looked a little mad. “We’re to have a ball to celebrate my big brother’s return.”

A ball.

Big brother.

These words didn’t compute. Fordham had a … sister? Well, that had definitely never come up before. Of course, she should have associated princess with her being Fordham’s sister, but she was still so used to Bryonican royalty that these rules didn’t exactly make sense to her. In Bryonica, there were four royal lines and all the first of their line were considered princesses. Kerrigan had been a princess. Helly was technically a princess from a different royal house. She hadn’t realized that it would mean blood relative. If Fordham had divulged information about his home, then she wouldn’t continually be caught off guard. Wynter was apparently relishing in it.

“Well, a ball sounds lovely,” Kerrigan finally said. She hated court games and always had. But she was going to have to remember how to play if she was to survive here.

“I bet,” Wynter said.

“This way, Miss Kerrigan,” Benton said, pulling her into an adjoining room, away from Wynter.