She spun around and came face to face with Marek. “Is everything all right, Your Highness?” he asked, staring daggers at Jarvik.
“It is now,” she said. “Please escort me back to my bedchamber. I’ve had enough dancing for one evening.”
He took her arm and led her from the room. She could have sworn she heard Jarvik laugh.
“You’re shaking,” Marek commented when they were in the hallway.
“Only because I hate that insufferable man,” she said.
“The squire?”
“Yes.” She hoped she didn’t see him any time soon because if she did, she would probably punch him.
“I thought perhaps you were referring to Prince Odar.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “When you danced with the prince, you had a fake smile. Then with the squire, you seemed yourself. When I saw you losing your temper, I came over as quickly as I could without tearing across the room.”
They reached the Royal Chambers. “Did you have a chance to dance with Madelin?” she asked.
His face reddened. “No. I’m on duty and not permitted to partake in the festivities.”
“I’m sorry.” Her hand rested on the door handle to her bedchamber.
Marek shook his head. “Don’t be. We all make sacrifices for our kingdom. Some are steeper than others.”
This conversation had turned too heavy for Allyssa’s liking. “I’m going to turn in for the night.” And with that, she went into her room, closing the door behind her.
“Can you believe this?” Grevik said, indicating the Fren soldiers in the tavern.
No, Allyssa most certainly could not believe the pretty prince had brought so many men to Emperion with him. If they were all staying at the castle, then why were they here in this tavern of all places? She hoped no one recognized her.
“Have you tried talking to your parents?” Grevik asked, abruptly changing the subject. He leaned forward, closer to her.
She raised her eyebrows, wondering what he was specifically referring to.
“Your profession,” he clarified.
Allyssa smiled. If only he knew. She took having to go into the family business to a whole new level.
She was just about to reply when Grevik said, “I was at the weekly announcement.”
Allyssa gulped. He’d heard her speak? Did he suspect she was the princess? She couldn’t even look at him. If her identity was known, she’d never be able to sneak out to see Grevik again.
“The princess is a pretty, young thing,” he continued. “Her hair was all done up fancy around her crown, she had beautiful eyes, and her dress probably cost more than my mum makes in a season.”
It was amazing what elegant clothes and some dusting powder could do to improve a person’s looks. “Let’s go,” she said tersely, wanting to end this conversation and leave the stuffy tavern along with the Fren soldiers. Until this day, she’d never come this close to having her identity discovered.
Grevik finished off his drink, and the two of them left the tavern. They headed toward the south end of town, keeping their eyes and ears open for trouble. Given the late hour, they were bound to run into something.
Allyssa tugged her cloak around her, trying to ward off the cold air.
“When I start working for the City Guard, and I can’t go out at night with you anymore, what will happen to us? Will you still visit me?”
Allyssa wished she could see Grevik’s face, but it was hidden under his hood. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I want to still make a difference.”
Grevik grabbed her arm and stopped walking. “Lilly, you better not do this alone. That’s how my father was murdered.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t. Besides, I’ll be getting married one day and I doubt my husband will approve of my nightly escapades.”
“Or you visiting another man, even if we’re only friends.” Grevik released her arm, and they resumed walking.
Grevik was Allyssa’s one true friend. Someone who valued her for her person and not her position. She couldn’t imagine him not being in her life.
“Until the time comes when we’re married, you are welcome to visit me. And I’d like the opportunity to come and see you. I know you say your parents won’t approve, but maybe if we told them—”
“Grevik,” Allyssa said, interrupting him midsentence. “Who’s that?”
A man was leaning against the building about twenty feet in front of them. He was dressed in a long cloak, his low hood concealing his face. He had a long sword strapped to his waist, the metal gleaming in the moonlight. Only soldiers and guards were permitted to carry swords in the city, and this man wasn’t dressed in the uniform of either. He pushed off the stone building and walked down the street, away from them, disappearing from their sight.