Fiction: The Library of Eristat / The Seven Suitors, Chapter 4

A serialized mystery in a fantasy setting.

Author’s note: The Seven Suitors is a novel-length mystery in a fantasy setting I’m serializing on this Substack. It’s also the follow-up to the Library of Eristat story you may have read. Chapter One can be found here, the previous chapter can be found here. New chapters will now publish weekly until the story is finished.

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Image generated with Midjourney, all text human-written by me and human-edited by Alyssa Sparza.

The man in the mirror—the supposed Lord Silas the other suitors took him for—still looked like a stranger to Semote. The face staring back at him was clean-shaven, and keeping it that way would be the first newfound responsibility he had to worry about. Whatever practical skills the nobility might be lacking, personal grooming was not likely to be one of them; he would have a hard time keeping up this façade if he showed up every morning looking like he lost a fight with his own razor.

Semote ran a hand through his hair, which still felt strange to him. It had been cut to a respectable length and parted to the side—another rare sight. But it had likely been worth the effort—Semote expected Rowena to be a more exacting judge than any of the suitors, and since he had survived their last meeting without being on the receiving end of any thinly-veiled looks of sartorial judgement, he must have cleaned up acceptably. Most of that, admittedly, he had Rowena to thank for, as her advice and advance had set him up with a set of expensive blue robes that seemed to change how everyone saw him.

It had been hard for Semote not to openly marvel at the way the staff moved in orbit around him, making space as he passed by but ready to swoop in if it looked like he had a whim unmet. Individuals with far more right than him to be at the funeral had even made room for him and afforded him a level of respect he was unaccustomed to, simply for looking like one of them. If he could keep up the performance, Semote could almost get used to living life as a member of the privileged class. If he didn’t despise everything that represented.

The most impressive feat of acting Semote had pulled off yet had been passing by the castle’s library on the way to his room while feigning complete disinterest, holding back his inner librarian from rushing in to take a complete inventory of whatever treasures were hidden away there unappreciated. That would have been a difficult task for him under any circumstances, and even more so now that Semote hoped for an outside chance of laying bare the mechanisms behind reality and cracking the system of the world with the right book.

Within the Library of Eristat, its content obfuscated so thoroughly as to appear as nonsense, Semote had begun to decrypt the contents of a strange black book, an apparent copy of a tome called the Tenebrous Codex, which made some extraordinary claims. Claims which, if true, meant that everyone alive was wrong about almost everything.

The book claimed that the entirety of the universe could be modeled with mathematical constructs, and the future itself predicted through equations that governed the fundamental forces of reality, leaving no room for the whims of gods controlling the weather or compelling the movement of the planets and stars. The book alleged that the political arrangements that held the world together stemmed not from the divine rights of kings and lords, but as a simple consequence of power employed in perpetuation of itself, vulnerable to vanishing from existence if people stopped believing in it. That some of their fledgling sciences like alchemy, arts that smarter minds than his had devoted their entire lives to, were close to nonsense in their understanding of the world, badly misinformed as to the fundamental nature of substances.

Among the Codex’s strange ramblings and almost prophetic warnings, Semote had uncovered enough testable hypotheses—equations and mathematical transformations that offered a description of laws of motion, force, and gravity—to put some stock in the book’s claims. The progression of knowledge the book hinted at promised incredible destructive power for mastering its principles, well beyond anything possible with the concussive force of a ballista or the explosive inferno created by black powder, forces that could burn the world itself. But the majority of the book remained encrypted, with a code breakable by a key derivable from first principles, an extended sequence of prime numbers that could be used to decrypt the Codex’s remaining text. A sequence that while rare, if his mother was to be believed, had been published in a text of which were still a few copies of in the world.

That by itself would be worth the trip, if Rowena’s library held the key to translating the remainder of the Codex. And there was always the chance of finding the Codex’s original, the master text laying bare the mysteries of the universe Semote had begun to uncover. Assuming he could rule out the existence of any more copies, all he would have to do is burn the book, and he could be done worrying about it forever. It was not a decision he took lightly. But there would be no way of containing the sorts of weapons the Codex claimed were possible, if that knowledge were to escape into the world. Without the information the Codex offered, it might take centuries to independently discover whatever scientific principles allowed for that level of destruction. Millenia, if they were lucky.

Semote started as he heard a rap of knuckles at his door. He rubbed his face, quickly trying to adjust his mindset back to the somewhat stuffy noble he was pretending to be. Rowena had so far declined to fill him in on any significant details about the other suitors, asking him to form his own impressions before comparing them with hers. Hence, he might as well have been the man he was impersonating—alone, out of place, and about to join a group that was not going to be pleased to see him there.

Admittedly, the man smiling back at him after Semote opened the door did look somewhat pleased to see him. The young man was slender—his figure suggested a different lifestyle than the comparable softness that came with a life of ease, or an existence honed in preparation for combat that would have led to a muscled physique. His skin was of a darker shade that suggested, if the Codex could be trusted, that his ancestors had adapted through random variation under a selection pressure that favored tolerating periods of extended sunlight. Hence, another foreigner, relative to Aeolia.

The young man extended his hand, which Semote took on reflex. “My name is Darius. House Myron. You can imagine my excitement when I heard there was someone else here who didn’t quite fit in.”

Semote’s heart went double-time for a few beats, before he quickly reminded himself that there was an obvious answer as to what this meant. “We’ll see if either of us manages to fit in here long-term. I’m Lord Silas of Nareth, from Erelia. Where do you call home?”

Darius smiled apologetically, as if a little embarrassed for having to be reminded to state the obvious. “Somewhere closer than you do. I just came over the border from Serenia, a fact which may make me even less popular here.”

“Are your countries not on good terms?” The question was genuine, Semote knew enough history to say the two nations hadn’t had a major conflict since Aeolia split from being a unified kingdom to being ruled by independent houses, but any recent developments that had yet to make it to the Library would be beyond his knowledge.

Darius shrugged. “It is a porous border, which creates some aggravation for both sides. But more to the point, if you’ll pardon me for saying so, I think you are better situated than myself simply due to proximity. It is harder to foster resentment for a group of strangers you never see, than the ones you find on your doorstep.” Darius inclined his head in the direction of the hall. "I’ve been told we’re expected for dinner, would you like to join me? Safety in numbers and all that.”

Semote’s smile froze, as he thought quickly. If this man had only just arrived in the country, given the timeline that he knew of, at the very least he couldn’t have murdered Rowena’s father. But there were still likely any number of out of the way spots in the castle Darius could take advantage of if he had ill intentions. Still, the risks was probably low. It’s not that Semote thought a noble in Darius’s position would never try something, clearly some would. But they wouldn’t make a move this early—not against a stranger.

“Certainly, I’d appreciate the company.”

Darius smiled, and began leading Semote through a maze of halls. Semote followed, doing his best to adopt a dignified gait, like he was used to making other people wait for him and not the other way around. As they reached the dining room, they passed by kitchen staff preparing the table, bowing courteously to them both.

“Hmm. I think we’re here first. Punctuality must not be an Aeolian virtue.” Darius’s eyes scanned the seating arrangement at the dining room table as Semote followed his gaze. There were chairs at the head and foot, and three each down the sides, for 10 seats total. Taking himself and the seven other suitors, that left two spots for Rowena and her sister. “Still, this may present an opportunity for us.” Darius pointed to the far side of the table. “I assume the princess will sit at the head, so there remains a question of strategy. Would it be better to be at the princess’s side, capable of sharing in a hushed word? Or to sit at cross-corners, poised to do commerce in meaningful glances? Say I gave you first pick, as a gesture of friendship. Which would you choose?”

Semote hesitated, as the honest answer was neither. If he was going to have anything to show for the evening, his time would be best served by focusing his attention on anyone in the room other than Rowena, as much as the intractably stupid parts of his brain might prefer otherwise. The problem was, Silas of Nareth would want the opposite, and actively seeking anything other than proximity to the princess would seem suspicious. Semote opened his mouth to speak, but was saved by another voice interrupting him.

“Excuse me.” The castle steward who had shown him to his room earlier cleared his throat, somehow manifesting himself the moment a need was unmet. “Since you are both from out of the country, the princess thought you and the other young gentleman might appreciate a seat at the foot of the table, to have a chance to converse with all the other guests.”

Darius gave a courteous smile, as though this news wasn’t ruining his plans for the evening. “Much obliged.” Semote smiled even more sincerely. Rowena must have had similar thoughts to his own, and chose to place him in the best position to observe the evening’s events.

As Semote and Darius found their seats, two other men approached from down the hall—one of whom Semote recognized as Cedric. They both stopped to speak with the steward on their way in, who pointed them towards a particular seat at the table. Assigned seating must be a given at this sort of function, a missed cue on their own parts. At least there had been no one else around to see it.

“Don’t worry about the placement.” Darius whispered to Semote as they took their seats at the end of the table. “Better to start at the bottom and work our way closer. There’s nowhere to go but up from here.” The two nobles from the hall joined them not long after, Cedric positioning himself in the center of the three seats on Semote’s left, and the other man ending up directly to Darius’s right.

The man to Darius’s right flashed a portrait-ready smile at the two of them. “Wesley of Gilder, at your service. It’s good to see some fresh blood in the mix, this might be interesting after all. I’m curious what brought you—”

A booming voice rang out in the hall. “Silas of Nareth, as I live and breathe.” Alexander brushed past Wesley to clap Semote on the back. “I knew you had it in you. I’m sorry everyone, I really am.” Alexander turned to address his fellow guests. “I’m responsible for bringing this young pup into the fold. When you see the best of Aeolia come up short, and the princess in the arms of this man, it will all be because I found him and guided him on the path towards love. But I regret nothing.” Alexander placed his hand over his heart. “Only a fool would try to direct love, it washes over us and carries us off in its wake, and all that is left of our plans is the foam on the shore.”

“Or perhaps not.” Alexander winked at Semote. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to keep you company this time Silas, it seems I’m wanted at the seat next to the princess. Enjoy the view from down there...and please, do stick around.”

Alexander sauntered off to the farthest seat on the right set of three. Darius looked at Semote and whispered to him. “How long have you two known each other?”

“A few hours.”

Darius shook his head. “Between you and me, if this is the best Aeolia has to offer, I’m not surprised that the princess hasn’t managed to find a husband. I’m surprised she hasn’t given up completely.”

Semote meant to follow up, but the other seats were quickly filling in, and the introductions soon took over the conversation. Aside from the two seats at the head, every spot had been filled in. To his left were two new faces: a man who introduced himself as Lucian, followed by Cedric, and a man named Valerian who appeared to be the tallest in the group, a fact which at least one book in the Library would claim made him the odds-on favorite.

To the right of Darius sat Wesley, Gideon, and Alexander. Last to arrive was their host...or hosts, as it turned out. Rowena took the seat at the opposite corner of the table from Semote, perpendicular to Alexander, while her sister sat down beside her. Rowena’s sister had light brown hair, several shades brighter than Rowena’s. She seemed less than interested in the men at the table then her own sister, stopping to whisper in Rowena’s ear, who smiled and whispered something back. Skye was her name, Semote remembered. It was just one more name he had to worry about keeping track of, in addition to his own alias. He would seriously consider taking pen and paper to draw up a table to keep track of everyone and his suspicions, if his notes wouldn’t be a dead giveaway.

The chatter at the table instantly died down as Rowena sat up straight and leaned forward, all eyes turning to her. It was almost comic how quickly she caught everyone’s attention. Semote doubted an axe plunged into the table could have produced the same instantaneous shift in focus.

“Lithos thanks you all for coming.” Rowena began. “These have been trying times for us. My father was a great leader, and there are some who wonder if we can survive his passing. I intend to see to it that we will.”

There was a chorus of agreement from around the table. Rowena waited for the voices to die down, then continued. “I appreciate the support you have all shown by coming here. Over the coming days you will have a chance to demonstrate your commitment to keeping Lithos strong. But for now, please enjoy our hospitality. Lithos may be rich in many things, but in nothing, I think, so much as its friends.” Rowena nodded towards the steward, who began to bring out plates of food to the table, starting with the princess herself and proceeding to her right.

As the conversations at the table began to pick up again, Semote took a moment to ask himself if he’d stumbled into the wrong dinner. The nobility’s talent for dancing around the obvious never ceased to amaze him, it seemed the focus of the night was going to be politics rather than romance. Evidently it was still gauche to discuss what was really happening, even though they all knew the motive behind everyone’s presence. Well, almost everyone’s. He still had a job to do, peculiar as it was.

Semote leaned back and let the buzz of conversation wash over him, doing his best to form impressions without paying too much attention to what was being said. There were seven suitors he needed to learn about, and six suspects—technically seven, if he didn’t take Darius at his word. By personality, he would take the group as having three extroverts, two introverts, and two who fell somewhere in between.

On the scale of extraversion, Alexander easily topped even this large of a field, completely undeterred by those who might prefer he didn’t. Darius and Wesley were a notch below, and different in approach as well. While Alexander soliloquized in a long continuous stream, assuming people would want to listen to him, Darius’s conversation seemed to consist more of questions than comments, drawing out the people around him and encouraging them to talk about themselves. He seemed genuinely curious to know the lay of the land, to say nothing of the unusual situation he had found himself in. Wesley spoke as though he were reciting poetry, his words almost having a meter to them as he danced from topic to topic, expressing respect for his fellow nobles, and admiration for their hosts. Looking directly at Darius and Semote himself, Wesley commented that he wished he still had the time to travel the world himself, he always found it a broadening experience.

Gideon and Valerian were the most reserved at the table, if Semote excluded himself. Valerian seemed to mostly express approval or disapproval at what other people had to say, his judgement falling on Rowena as easily as any of the others in her remarks. Gideon might be the only one Semote never saw looking to catch eyes with the princess or trying to grab her attention, although even he wasn’t capable of looking away when she directed her gaze at him.

Cedric and Lucien rounded out the middle of the conversational pack. It was difficult to describe the impression Cedric left. He was like how a pauper imagined a prince must be, rather than true to Semote’s own experience of how they actually were. Respectful, and at least outwardly empathetic. He expressed concern for Darius’s and Semote’s safety as foreigners likely traveling with significant sums of money, and offered to assist them in finding an escort should they wish. He also declined to rise to the bait of the other lords, even when Alexander needled him about whether he could actually afford it.

Lucien was another oddity. He kept busy in conversation, jumping in and out of discussions, and shifting his attention from person to person as the night went on. Semote initially thought he might have made a mistake not counting him among the talkative ones, but soon realized why that wasn’t the case. When his attention wasn’t being requested, Lucien would drop off and observe the people around him without offering anything in return. He could be found giving a particular suitor a studied look as they spoke, perhaps asking himself what the princess had seen in him to bring him this far. And how he might prove her wrong. In a certain way, Lucien’s approach to the dinner was probably closest to his own. At this point in the game he wasn’t focusing on the princess. He was focusing on everyone else.

“Everyone else” had somehow managed to exclusively be handsome young men who had yet to breach their third decade. Wesley was probably the best looking if Semote’s instincts on the subject counted for anything. And while Semote could tell himself he didn’t care, his ego was gaining a small boost from the fact that no one seemed to think he appeared out of place in their group, or looked at him any differently than any of the other handsome young men at the table. Even if it had required an outfit someone had probably taken months to fashion, and overpaying for the skills of a barber used to serving much wealthier clientele.

Semote’s attention was jerked back to the present by a rhythmic pattering coming from behind him. He turned his head to see a small creature run around the right side of the table and jump up on Alexander, letting loose a series of joyous barks. The fluffy white dog was panting enthusiastically and licking at Alexander’s hands, all while making light yipping noises. Alexander made a show of trying to quiet the dog down, before he began to stand up and speak.

“I’m terribly sorry.” Alexander began, hardly seeming sorry at all. “I thought he’d be much better behaved than this. I know what you all must think.” Rowena simply raised one eyebrow and looked at Alexander. “I found him on one of my last hunting trips, abandoned and alone. I couldn’t bear to leave him like that, so I took him in. We’ve been inseparable ever since.”

Semote heard an audible sigh coming from somewhere to his left. Alexander went on as if he hadn’t heard anything. “I really don’t mean to impose, but I don’t know if I could bear to leave the poor creature alone right now. Would it be possible to let him stay?” Alexander gave Rowena an imploring look. The dog jumped on Alexander’s chair and did the same.

Rowena smiled, her face looking like it was fighting the urge to make eyes at the puppy as she took on a formal tone. “Lithos is known for its generosity.”

“Thank you so much...”

“But not for its space, unfortunately. The table is a bit crowded as it is.” Rowena looked around briefly. “Either you or the dog are welcome to dine with us, but not both.”

Alexander’s next words seemed to stick in his throat, as he struggled for how to respond. Semote doubted this was turning out quite the way he had planned. It was Rowena’s sister who finally defused the situation.

“I think it’s about time for me to retire anyway.” Skye interjected, motioning for the dog to come over, causing it to bound towards her happily. “I’d be delighted to look after your furry friend if you wish to stay a while longer.”

Alexander gave her a look of sincere gratitude. “We’d be eternally grateful. He’s a tender soul, I’m not sure little Motte could stand to be alone right now.”

Skye smiled, bending down to scoop up the dog in her arms. “He looks like more of a Bailey to me. But it will be my pleasure.”

None of the guests stirred or made a move to get up as Skye left the room. It seemed no one had any intention of missing a moment at dinner as long as Rowena was still present. Semote went back to studying the group, only to realize that someone was staring just as intently at him. Lucien was gazing at him with a focus that awoke a defensive instincts Semote tried to suppress. The other man’s hair had a touch too much fire in it to be called brown, offset by the blue hues of his outfit. Semote mustered up the will to return his gaze, and Lucien finally broke the silence. “Lord Silas of Nareth. From Erelia.”

Semote nodded. “That is what they call me.”

“You’ve joined us at a very interesting time. I hope all this talk of death and succession hasn’t soured you on Aeolia.”

Semote raised his eyebrows. “Really, there’s some concern related to succession? Are you telling me that’s why we’re all here?”

Lucien chuckled and leaned in closer. “I don’t know how it is in Erelia, but here we have a saying about how the burdens of nobility are better left undiscussed. Better to live in poverty and be thought wealthy than to live like a king but be despised as a pauper.”

“I’m not sure I could disagree more.”

Lucien raised an eyebrow and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Really. Would you prefer it if everyone here bared their souls to the princess, told the truth about impoverished estates, and expressed their base desires? Even as far as Erelia, I thought it was believed that it is our ability to control ourselves, to act with class, which separates us from animals.”

Semote paused for a moment, trying not to fall into any of the traps that sentence suggested. He was at risk of sounding too much like himself. “If all that separated us from animals was our ability to lie about our intentions, I’m not sure that would be in our favor.”

“But if everyone lies to each other, and we all know we are lying, is it really a lie at all? Playing the role assigned to you—putting up the façade—is itself is part of the game. It is what distinguishes a noble from a common man.”

That’s more true than you know, Semote thought to himself. But outwardly, he said nothing, and shrugged.

“All that said.” Lucien continued, allowing his voice to rise a little. “It certainly would save some time to shrug off our decorum. I think she’d send a few prospects home on the spot if our fellow guests revealed what they were really thinking. So in that spirit...” Lucien raised his glass to meet Semote’s. “Why are you here?”

Semote clinked his glass back, thinking quickly. “To see how this plays out.”

“Now there’s a non-evasive answer. You can hardly end up disappointed if that’s all you want. But really...a noble from Erelia. Let’s say you do marry her. Are you going to leave your homeland and run affairs from here? Do you somehow imagine she would choose to abandon her ancestral home and follow you across the world? Are you sure you’ve thought this through?”

Semote tried to keep himself from smiling, given how irrelevant these questions were to his actual concerns. “I don’t expect logistics will be the deciding factor here, we can work them out together if required. I could have family take care of things at home if I would be needed here. But at least I know what inquiries I should expect if the princess thinks like you do. And in the same spirit...” Semote pressed his glass against Lucien’s a second time. “Why are you here?”

Lucien took a long sip from his own glass before setting it back on the table. “For all we are loathe to discuss them, Aeolia is beset by a number of problems. Not the least of which is the fact that our presence here is required for the house of Lithos to survive. There are forces gathering that would like to take advantage of our people in this perceived moment of weakness, and rob us of our wealth. Through military might, outright theft, or even seducing and exploiting a vulnerable heiress. I intend to see to it that they fail. So here’s to that.”

Lucien clinked his glass with Semote’s one final time, then turned his attention back to the rest of the table. Semote couldn’t help but wonder if that last comment about forces taking advantage of the princess was meant to be a slur on him. Darius soon whispered in his ear, confirming his suspicions. “Don’t let them get to you.”

Semote leaned in and spoke softly. “You think that was aimed at me?”

“Of course it was.” Darius smiled, keeping his voice down. “They’re scared. They’ve all known the princess for years. You and I only met her a few hours ago and we’re already on an even footing with them. They’ve tried and failed. They’re worried they’ve already missed their chance, and it’s going to be one of us.”

“And you think they’re right?”

“They definitely have reason to be concerned. But it doesn’t really matter if they’re right. What matters is what they’re likely to do. They want us out of the game. Each of them likely already has a plan to undermine the others, but the two of us are unknowns. And at this phase, they’d rather get rid of us or pressure us to leave than try to beat us fairly. You should watch out for yourself.”

Semote thought for a second. “If what you’re saying is true, then doesn’t that make me your main competition? Shouldn’t you want me gone too?”

Darius shook his head. “That’s not who I am. What I want is for the princess to have a chance to make up her mind on her own without undue pressure. I can’t ask for anything more than that. But from what I hear, the Aeolian nobility doesn’t fight fair. There are far too many premature deaths among this lot for them to all be accidents, and some that hardly bother to disguise it. Even if you are my main competition, the moment you’re gone, they’ll have no one to focus on but me. We need to stick together.”

“And what do you suggest?”

Darius shrugged. “Keep doing what you’ve been doing. Play your cards close to your vest. Keep them guessing. By the time any of them feel like they know for sure what to expect from you, maybe we’ll have something to take to the princess.”

Semote nodded. There was one more thing he needed to ask while he had the chance. Lowering his voice even further, he spoke. “You mentioned premature deaths. The funeral we just went to, the timing seems suspicious. Have you heard anything that might suggest foul play? Do you have any ideas whom we should be looking out for?”

Darius paused, looking around the room. “I had the exact same thought. It’s strange that no one has said anything, like they’re afraid to break some taboo. I don’t know enough to say anything yet, but I have some inquiries I plan to make. See what you can find out as well. We’ll speak again soon.”

Semote felt multiple pairs of eyes on the two of them. That was probably enough time spent conspiring for one day. He resumed his former posture and tried to rejoin the normal flow of conversation. The evening was already winding to a close. Rowena must have given some signal that she was ready to leave, because one by one, the guests began to excuse themselves, thanking her for a lovely evening, then taking off. Semote thanked her himself, but chose to linger in the hall, until he was certain the other nobles had left. He made eye contact with her, and she motioned for him to come over.

Rowena looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was in earshot, then smiled at him in reassurance, a smile that made his face smile back before the entirety of his brain was consulted. “We’ll have plenty of chances to compare notes, I’m planning on having audiences with each of the suitors alone. Anything useful yet?”

“I’m not exactly popular, which is probably good cover.” Semote spoke the words in a whisper. “There are a lot of people I could be spending time with, and I was hoping for some direction. I was wondering if there was somewhere you wanted me to start.”

Rowena thought for a second, then spoke a single word. “Valerian.”

“Are we interested in him as a murderer or as marriage material?”

“Well, I’d appreciate answers to both if possible.” Rowena smiled. “Although settling either question strongly enough might pre-empt further discussion.”

“Something else I wanted to know...why him? For that matter, why did you pick any of them? Alexander I know about. But why choose the rest of them out of everyone who came?”

Rowena stared out into space for a second. “That’s a deeper topic than we have time for right now. For now, get to know Valerian. See what you can find out about him. Then maybe you’ll be able to tell me.”

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Two years ago

The outside air was cold, uninviting, and exactly what Rowena needed right now. The night so far had been a procession of forgettable names and faces, the most recent of which she was almost certain had just been introduced to her for the fourth time. She was starting to suspect the young man was using her perceived forgetfulness as an opportunity to try out different lines on her, and see what worked.

Her face felt sore from holding the same polite smile for hours, as she answered the same boring questions about herself with a rehearsed set of responses. She felt like she could make small talk in her sleep at this point. All the men she’d met sort of jumbled together in her mind, she wasn’t sure anymore who were the elder sons, who was native to the region, or even who was already married. The last man she’d enjoyed talking to had turned out to be visiting with his wife and children, and actually was simply making an appearance to be sociable.

Rowena breathed out a sigh as she saw another figure out of the corner of her eye casting a shadow into the night air. “It didn’t occur to you that I might be out here because I wanted to be alone?”

The shadow didn’t even turn to look at her. “No. I was here first.”

Unfortunate if true. Even if she did have the option to ask him to leave. “Are you sure about that?”

The shadow nodded. The man casting it was tall, but otherwise indistinct. “Yes. I was here before any of the dances started. You somehow put up with three. And then you came out, acting as though your family owned the entire world.”

Rowena smiled in spite of herself. She turned to look at the man. His figure was fit—she could have taken him for a soldier if not for his clothes, but his face was hidden in the shadows. She wondered if she should recognize him. She wondered if she was about to be disappointed that he was staying in the dark because he thought his chances were better if she didn’t see his face.

The man took a step forward, as though asserting his right to be there, and Rowena took him in as his face hit the light, decidedly settling the question of whether the man had anything to be ashamed of in the negative.

Rowena looked at him with an expression that was aggressively casual, as she reminded herself that she was a cool important princess that anyone should feel lucky to get to talk to. “So why come here in the first place?”

The man winced. “My little brother wants to be married.”

Rowena smiled. “Looking around, I assume that’s how most people feel.”

“Until it happens at least. But he wants to get married to some princess with an estate to her name and no male heirs to take priority. I hear it’s not going so well.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that.” Rowena wondered who the man’s brother could have been.

“I’m not. I don’t think I’d really want you as a sister in law.”

Rowena didn’t know whether to laugh or take offense. “And why is that?”

The man shrugged. “To begin with, I’d never hear the end of it from him, how my inheritance has nothing on what he earned for himself. And I hear the wealthier a house gets, the more they start thinking the world revolves around them.”

“Something tells me you think that way already.”

“Perhaps one day the world will revolve around me.” The man stepped further into the light, taking a closer look at her. “So you are Rowena. Every single man in the country is being told he needs to be pursuing you. Have you thought about abdicating and letting your sister share some of the attention?”

“Goodness no. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.” Rowena felt herself warming up to the man. “And you are?”

“Valerian. Valerian of Alden.”

“Well, Valerian. I was considering whether I could survive a fourth dance tonight.” Valerian didn’t look back at her. “Perhaps I’ll see you around?” After waiting a few seconds with no response, Rowena decided it was time to save face and simply take her leave.

As she stepped back inside, she heard a voice call out behind her. “Anything’s possible. But you won’t find me waiting around for an audience or a dance. Come find me when you’re bored.”

Rowena shook her head and smiled. “Maybe I will.” She called back.

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To be continued in Chapter 5, now available here.