Devrim's Discipline (Court of Paravel 1)

I look up from my seat, at the edge of the ballroom, in time to see Duchess Balzac sit down beside me, amusement glimmering around her mouth.

I straighten and greet the Duchess politely, though it saps the rest of my nearly non-existent energy. “Good evening, Your Grace. I hope you and the family are well.”

Duchess Balzac doesn’t seem interested in small talk. She gazes across the ballroom to where Daddy and Wraye are dancing, him, in his scarlet uniform, her, in a glimmering silver gown with spaghetti straps. She looks fragile and elegant in his arms. You can’t help but stare at them.

“He’s a fine figure of a man, your father,” the Duchess observes. “There’ll be more than one widow annoyed that the Rugova girl will be Archduchess, a higher rank than us all.”

I watch Daddy’s gentle, smiling face and the tender way he holds Wraye. It’s plain to see that he’s in love with her. It’s better that he’s happy, instead of making some political match. He deserves that after all he’s been through.

But why did it have to be with my best friend?

“He wants what he missed out on,” Duchess says gently. “A beautiful young wife. Being a father.” She pats my hand sympathetically. “That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you, but you’re all grown up, and you don’t need him. A man like that enjoys being needed.”

The Duchess’s daughters, Sachelle and Tamsen, walk past us, as dark-haired and beautiful as their mother, dressed in emerald and sapphire jewel tones.

Across the ballroom, a man is watching them like a hawk. He’s wearing a suit, and his hands are clasped in front of him. Jake. Jakob. Something like that. He comes to the house to talk security with Daddy. I’ve seen him at every ball, but he’s not here to dance, he’s here to work. He needs to keep his eyes to himself, because the Duchess’s daughters are far out of his league.

“And what about you, Aubrey?” Duchess Balzac asks.

“Pardon?” I ask, dragging my attention back to her.

“This might be easier for you if you were married, too.”

She nods meaningfully at Daddy and Wraye. I’m not going to marry someone simply to get out of that house.

“I’m focused on my riding, right now. I hear dressage competitions will begin in Paravel soon, and I intend to win.”

The Duchess’s face brightens. “You ride? How wonderful. I didn’t know Levanter House had stables.”

“We don’t. I’ve been meaning to look for a livery stable.” A livery stable would be ideal, because I can ride Cinnamon and take care of her as much as I want, and on the days I can’t make it due to social events, the staff will exercise and brush her.

“There’s the Bellerose livery place.” The Duchess’s eyes shine as she says it. “I would see Cassian Bellerose exercising horses in Royal Park before the revolution, or the People’s Victory Gardens, as they were then.”

“Are the stables any good?”

But the Duchess seems too preoccupied about the owner to answer my question. “What a fine figure of a man he is.”

Oh, for heaven’s sake. I don’t give a damn if he looks like Adonis himself. I just want somewhere safe and secure for Cinnamon. “Is he any good with horses?”

“Yes, he’s excellent. The stables are on the far side of Royal Park, and it’s a short ride to South Row from there.”

I perk up instantly. South Row. I long to ride along South Row. “That sounds ideal. I’ll visit first thing in the morning. Thank you so much.”

Across the room, Daddy and Wraye have stepped off the dancefloor and are slipping out through one of the doors, hidden in an alcove. Daddy has his arm around Wraye’s waist, and his lips behind her ear. They think they’re being subtle, but I know what they get up to in dark corners of the palace.

Duchess Balzac wants me to be happy for them, but I can’t forgive such wildly inappropriate behavior. I would never carry on like that. Not in a thousand years.