Chapter 46 She's a Matchmaker

Chapter 46 She's a Matchmaker
Fiona

Elara bursts into laughter.

"I didn't think you could make female friends; you must be a warrior like her."

My face heats, and Liora laughs.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Elara," Liora says, tilting her head. “I hope you're better company than your sister."

Elara curtsies, and I scoff. "By all means, make jokes at my expense."

I squeeze Elara's hand and lower my voice to whisper.

"Stay with her,” I whisper. “Don’t stray from her side, do you understand? Not for a moment. And don’t you dare go anywhere near Father or the Hyath delegation.”

Her brows knit. “Fiona—”

“Promise me,” I say, staring into her eyes.

She swallows and nods slowly. “I promise.”

I nod and look at Liora. “Keep her safe. Please.”

Liora’s gaze softens almost imperceptibly. She gives one short nod. “I will.”

The promise eases a bit of my concern, leaving me with nothing but anger and purpose. I need to talk to Varek. I know he hasn't seen it, but he can't turn a blind eye to the facts. Will he even listen to me? I can't be sure. Varek had only barely, begrudgingly, backed off earlier, but he'd sent Liora to me and given us privacy. He may still be trying to regain control, but he wouldn't let his issues with me blind him to the fact that something was going on in Caldara that might ruin him if he didn't do something.

I scan the hall, searching for his broad shoulders and dark hair. I catch sight of Dante, slipping through the press of nobles with that easy stride of his, heading straight for where Liora stands with Elara. Watching the way he moves through the crowd makes me smile. She keeps looking over at him, gauging the distance between them. It’s as though there’s a string tied to his chest, pulling him toward her. His eyes linger on her face like he’s already memorized it. His expression is soft as he looks at her, adoring. It's clear she notices from the faint tint in her cheeks and the way she keeps jerking her gaze away from him like she's been caught.

It's adorable. With any luck, Liora will be reunited with her sister and off with a man who will adore her by the end of this mess. I scan for Varek again, but don't see him. Instead, I see a young man leaning against the far wall, his arms folded stiffly, his mouth pressed thin. He looks more like a soldier forced into fine clothes than a noble. I can see the way he fidgets, a little restless, impatient, and scanning the crowd with this mulish expression that says he'd rather be anywhere else.

Our eyes meet. He straightens at once, flushing faintly, but he doesn’t approach. I walk over.

“You know who I am,” I say.

“Yes, Princess Fiona,” he replies, voice quiet but steady, bowing his head briefly. “And no, I’m not actually interested.”

The honesty makes me laugh softly. “Thank the gods for small mercies.”

His lips twitch. “I didn’t want to waste your time.”

“Then let me ask something else.” I tilt my head. “Would you be interested in my sister?”

His brow furrows, confusion flashing across his face. “Your—?”

I angle my chin toward Elara, where she stands beside Liora. With the terrible gown covered by my father's cloak, she looks every bit the modest young woman she is. She's relaxed, and only the youthful beauty and sweetness in her face are on display, as they should be.

The young man follows my gaze. His eyes widen. Then, to my amusement, his entire face flames red.

“I—I—” He clears his throat, stammering like a boy. “She’s… she’s beautiful.”

The earnestness of his tone makes me grin.

“She is,” I say firmly, and take his arm before he can protest. “Come. No use hiding against a wall.”

He startles, then lets himself be tugged along, stiff as a post but not resisting.

“Elara,” I say brightly as we approach. “I’d like you to meet someone."

She turns. Her eyes fall on the man. A soft flush fills her cheeks as she dips her head and curtsies.

"A pleasure to meet you."

"Uh, please. It's my pleasure, " he gives a jerky bow. "I'm… Corin of Marvane.”

"Marvane…" Elara says softly. "To the east?"

"Yes." He clears his throat. "It is an honor that you have heard of my home, Princess Elara. You are quite knowledgeable." His gaze dips to her hands. "And you have quite the taste. The embroidery of your gown is exquisite."

Elara's eyes brighten, then her lips curve into a genuine smile. “Thank you. I embroidered it myself.”

His head jerks up, startled. “You? Truly?”

“Yes.” She glances down at the golden stitching on her sleeves. I hadn't noticed it before, but now that he brought it up, it's lovely and wasted on the gown that's not even to her taste. I suppose she did it to have some form of ownership of the gown, to make herself feel better, and for luck. “It passes the time at home.”

“That’s remarkable,” Corin says, the words tumbling out with awkward earnestness. “My mother used to embroider when I was a boy, but I’ve never seen work like this. What kind of flower is it?”

Her shoulders loosen as she explains it. I never paid much attention to the meanings of flowers, but I am more than amused that Corin seems to be able and willing to follow her explanation. They fall into an easy rhythm, their words quiet and their attention completely focused on each other, as though the rest of the hall has melted away.

I take a few steps back, grinning to myself. That was easier than I thought. I need more time to investigate Corin, of course, to see that he's exactly who he appears to be, but I have a good feeling about this.

My gaze drifts across the hall to where my father stands. His jaw is tight, his eyes locked on Elara and Corin. Rage simmers in his expression. I meet his gaze and let my smile sharpen into a glare, daring him to try to interfere.

I turn then and finally catch sight of Varek, watching me.

He looks furious for a moment, and I smile before turning to join another conversation. When I catch sight of Lucian’s sister on his arm, I narrow my eyes and turn. Luckily, there’s a man heading towards me. He’s tall and handsome in a rugged way with a scar above his left eye. He’s built a lot like Varek, and while his presence isn’t as strong as Varek’s, he’s nothing to scoff at. He smiles at me, showing pearly white teeth and a dimple in his cheek. 

He’s what I imagine Varek might have been when he was younger, if he hadn’t grown up in such a hard environment. 

He bows. “A pleasure to meet you, Princess Fiona.”

I chuckle. “I suppose it’s impossible to have come and not known who I was. A pleasure to meet you.”

His eyebrows lift a little before a wry smile takes over his face. 

“There is that, but… we’ve met before.” I blink, staring at him, trying to place his face. “Admittedly, I looked much different then… maybe half a foot shorter, wearing rags, covered in—”

“By the goddess, you’re the lost prince!” I say laughing, remembering. “Prince Gavin, right?” 

He nods. “I’m flattered you remember me.”

I chuckle. “It would be hard to forget such a week. How are things? You father? Your mother?”

He turns and gestures across the room. “Overjoyed to have me home and long since on good terms with Solara. Can I introduce you?”

He offers me his arm, and a sharp heat brushes across the back of my neck as I take his arm and let him lead me away. I glance back toward where Varek stands, stiffly watching me. He tears his gaze away from me. His expression grows colder as he speaks to whomever is in the circle with him. I note with distaste and irritation that it’s a group of women who look like they want to throw themselves at him. 

Lucian’s sister looks angry and seems to be pretending to be polite to the young man trying to talk to her.

I tear my gaze back as Gavin’s mother, an older woman with a benevolent disposition, dressed in a beautiful red gown, and tears in her eyes. She draws me into her arms and squeezes tightly. 

“Thank you for returning him to us.” She pulls back, dabbing at her eyes. His father stepped forward, offering a nod of his head. “If there’s anything we can do to repay you.”

“You can have him if you’d like.”

“Dad,” Gavin huffed. 

I chuckle at that. “Trying to get rid of him, hm? Seems suspicious.”

His mother swats her husband. “It’s not right to joke like that, dear. Honestly.”

“Who’s joking?”

“Ignore my father,” Gavin says, shaking his head. “Unless he’s forgotten my betrothal already in place?”

I take a deep breath of relief.

“I didn’t,” his father says, his eyes twinkling. “I think your bride-to-be wouldn’t bat an eyelash about being your second wife to Princess Fiona.”

Gavin shakes his head. “I have no interest in a second wife.” He looks at me. “Though I wondered if perhaps you might be interested in a trade deal. Solara and Caldara have allied, right?”