The Royal Trials: Imposter Read online

  “You don't seem terribly shaken,” he observed, dodging my question. “I noticed you weren't all that affected watching the girls who drank poison during the test as well. Have you seen a lot of people die, Calla?”

  “Don't evade my question, Lee; it's not as cute as you think.” Okay, it was probably cuter than he thought, and I’d just evaded his question, so I guessed we were even.

  Giving me a small smile, he sighed and sat on the opposite end of the lounge from me. With several other armchairs available, maybe I wasn't the only one feeling this insane, magnetic attraction.

  “Yes,” he confessed after a long silence, “I knew what was coming. There was no way to warn you, though. And I knew you wouldn't be at risk...”

  I scowled at him. “So it was okay to let that poor girl, Lady... uh...” Crap, I had no idea what her name was.

  “Lady Janaira,” Lee informed me. “And no, of course it wasn't okay to let her go to her death tonight. You seem unaware that you're not the only one being held by binding oaths. I had just as much choice in how tonight played out as you did, Calla.”

  I huffed a sigh but knew in my heart he was right. He wasn't evil, not like Taipanus. If he could have stopped it, I'm sure he would have. “We're totally screwed, aren't we?” I asked him, sagging further into the couch, which somehow managed to move me closer to Lee.

  It wasn't a huge lounge to begin with, so we were already within touching distance. Something Lee proved by running a fingertip over my bare upper arm.

  “He bruised you,” he murmured softly, his rough thumb stroking the tender skin where Taipanus had grabbed me. “That man acts so untouchable, so indestructible. I look forward to the day he gets stripped of his position.”

  I laughed, turning on the couch slightly to face him. “As if that would ever happen.”

  “I'm a servant, Calla. I hear a great many things, one of which is that there's no love lost between Taipanus and the princes. King Titus's reign is ending, and I would put money on it that whoever ascends to the throne will take out the trash.” His fingers continued stroking down my bare arm, making my skin tingle as he reached my hand.

  “You have a lot of faith in those arrogant pricks,” I commented, biting my lip as he turned my hand over and began tracing patterns on my palm. “You didn't see them at dinner, Lee. They just sat there, totally uncaring as a girl died at the table. And for what? For accepting their invitation to compete in the Trials? She didn't deserve to die. None of us do.”

  Lee's fingers on my palm paused, and there was a tense silence before he spoke again, leaving me wondering if I'd overstepped. Who knew how long he'd worked in the palace; maybe he had a different opinion of the asswads who called themselves princes.

  “I think,” he finally said in a careful voice, “not everything is what it seems around here, and you should consider giving them the benefit of the doubt. After all, you don't really know any of them, do you?” There was a faint note of hope in his voice as he finished with that question, and I smiled at him.

  “No, and I don't really intend to,” I replied, feeling sure of my feelings. The princes held no romantic interest for me. None whatsoever. That crazy sexual tension I'd felt with Thibault was just... hormones or something. Carryover feelings from my day with Lee. “Believe me, I wasn't lying about not wanting to jump headfirst into bed with those Neanderthals. Can you even believe their idea of a prize is the opportunity to spend the night with one of them?” I made a gagging noise, and Lee burst out into laughter.

  “I'm serious.” I frowned at him as he shook with amusement. “It's not actually funny, you oddball. Anyway, the king made an announcement—or rather more of a threat—that he's not granting anyone permission to leave the trials.”

  Sobering up and shifting somewhat closer to me on the couch, Lee peered at me with his intense blue eyes. “So what will you do?”

  Meeting his gaze unflinchingly, I ignored the charged shocks of attraction racing through me and answered honestly. “Win.”

  His brows shot up in surprise, and his long lashes blinked a couple of times. “Win? You mean...”

  “Become the next queen and marry one of those conceited pricks? Not a chance in hell. But there's no way anyone will make me poison myself for their own amusement. I'll win this stupid game, and then they'll live to regret all this bloodshed.” There was an edge of steel to my tone that surprised even me. Before just now, I'd still been considering tucking tail and running in the hopes that the binding oath wouldn't kill me. But hearing my own conviction as I spoke that declaration aloud... that changed things.

  Lee held my gaze for a long moment, his face an unreadable mix of emotions. Just when I was about to tell him it was okay to leave, he wouldn't hurt my feelings, he reached forward. Slipping his long fingers into my hair, he cradled the back of my head and pulled me closer until our lips were a scant breath apart.

  “I shouldn't be doing this,” he whispered, sounding conflicted. “This could really fuck things up for them...”

  By them I assumed he meant the princes. Not that it was any contest in my mind—Lee was ten times the man any of those royal toads were.

  “Do you really care?” I challenged him, my lips brushing against his ever so lightly as I spoke. He gave a pained groan and answered me in the only way I needed him to—closing the short gap between us and claiming my mouth with his own.

  The butterflies that had set up a nest inside me the moment Lee and I had met all took flight at once, filling me with the most giddy, intense, girlish feeling I'd ever experienced. It was a sensation that I never wanted to end, and it only increased as his lips moved confidently against mine.

  Stunned, ecstatic, and a little out of my depth, I had no idea what I should be doing with my hands. Should they be on his shoulders? His face? Why was I so damn ill-prepared for a situation like this?

  In the past, kissing had been a rushed affair. A box to tick on the way to sex. Certainly nothing like the languid, erotic way Lee's mouth met mine. Gently, he coaxed my lips apart, and our tongues met in an explosion of sparks.

  Overcome with desire and arousal, I was no longer worrying about where my hands should be. They practically had a life of their own as I explored the hard planes of Lee’s chest. I wasn't the only one getting carried away, either, as Lee’s grip shifted from my hair and down my back to rest on my waist.

  The warmth of his palms through the thin satin of my dress had me moaning and arching my spine, desperate for more. Thank Aana and all her fortunes, Lee was on the same page as me, pressing me backward onto the couch even as his hands reached up to cup my breasts through my dress.

  Murmuring an incoherent sound of approval, I snaked a leg around his waist, pulling him closer until I could feel his hardened length pressing against my core.

  “Calla,” he groaned, grinding against me and sliding one palm down the exposed length of my thigh. “This isn’t right, we shouldn’t be doing this. Not like this.”

  Parting my lips to argue, I barely had gotten a sound out when the unmistakable click of a door closing shocked me from my lust-induced stupor.

  “Well this was unexpected,” my best friend exclaimed, meeting my eyes over Lee’s broad shoulder as she glared down at me. “When you said to take the night off, it didn’t occur to me you would be entertaining.”

  “Jules,” I panted, wide-eyed as Lee hurried to sit up and then gallantly offer me a hand up. “This is, ah, Lee. He—”

  “Was just leaving,” Lee finished for me, standing and trying to subtly adjust his pants before striding to the door. “I’ll be seeing you, Calla.”

  The brief flash of panic that had struck me when he’d started his hasty exit was soothed by the heated, desperate look of desire on his face as he looked back at me.

  “Uh-huh,” I agreed, still numb and buzzing from our sexy make-out.

  No more words were necessary, though, as he was gone before I could even blink twice.

  “Ahem,” Jules fake coughe
d, dragging my attention from the door where I’d just been staring after Lee like a lovesick girl.

  “What?” I asked her, cocking a brow and feigning innocence. “Don’t give me that look; it’s nothing you wouldn’t do.”

  She pursed her lips and scowled. “Exactly. But it’s not what Rybet Waise would do. What’s gotten into you, girl? Did they brainwash you or something?”

  Shaking my head, I dodged her accusing eyes. “It doesn’t change anything. Now, sit down and shut up; I need to tell you what happened at dinner.”

  8

  The mood when I entered the training arena the next morning was somber to say the least. Gone were the nervous, girlish giggles and whispers, and not a single smile was in sight. The king's display of cruelty at dinner the night before had thoroughly shaken everyone, and looking around at the girls, I found plenty of pale, drawn faces.

  “Welcome to your first combat class,” a man greeted us, entering from the doors I'd just come through. “I trust you're all here?” He passed by me, his arm brushing mine, and I yelped at the static shock that zapped me.

  Our tutor for the day paused, peering down at me with sage green eyes framed in dark lashes. “Everything okay, Lady Callaluna?”

  Sucking in a deep breath, I stared back up at his handsome face with wide eyes and nodded. “Uh-huh. Just a shock.”

  A sly sort of smile pulled at his lips, but he said nothing more as he continued through the gathered girls to the table where various practice weapons were laid out.

  “Look around you,” he instructed us, any trace of his smile gone and a frown firmly in place. “You'll find that not only is Lady Janaira gone, but so too is Lady Hyacinth. She decided to ignore all of the palace's warnings regarding the binding oath you all took and attempted to abandon the Trials.” Our tutor looked grim at this news, and his jaw ticked like he was clenching his teeth way too hard. “Perhaps some of the rest of you tried as well but were smart enough to abort the attempt before suffering any permanent damage.” His green gaze swept across the gathered ladies, and several of them shifted uncomfortably. “Hopefully, you're all intelligent enough not to try again. Now, let's move on. I'm your combat tutor, Ty. This morning you'll be learning some basic self-defense skills that could save your life one day.”

  “Excuse me, Ty?” A pretty blonde girl, who I vaguely remembered as Lady Rosealee, put her hand up. “Why would we need to know how to fight? Doesn't a princess or queen have her own guards?”

  “She does,” Ty agreed with a nod, “but what happens if those guards are not around for whatever reason? What happens if she is caught alone or her guards are killed? What then? She just swoons and lets herself be killed or worse?” Lady Rosalee flushed with embarrassment, but Ty wasn't done. “I understand you've yet to take a history and politics class with Zan, but I would have thought most well-bred ladies knew of our country’s history and how our current royals came to rule.”

  Agatha cleared her throat. “Yes, sir. Queen Ophelia and her baby were attacked by unknown invaders. Her guards were all killed, but she was an accomplished swordswoman and managed to kill several of her attackers before they ran her through and stole the Princess Zarina.”

  “Can't have been too accomplished then,” I muttered under my breath and instantly felt the burning gaze of our tutor on me.

  “Something to add, Lady Callaluna?” he prompted me, and I bit my lip to keep quiet.

  Shaking my head, I plastered on my most innocent face. “Not at all. Just speculating what must have happened to Princess Zarina.”

  Ty narrowed his eyes at me but accepted the cover up. “It's widely accepted that she was either killed or sold into slavery. Certainly, no other kingdoms have asked ransom for her, so we must assume the worst. But Lady Agatha is correct. It is because of what happened to Queen Ophelia that our royals must know how to fight and defend themselves, not simply rely on others.”

  I bit back the smart remark resting on my tongue that it still hadn't saved Ophelia or her baby. Drawing more attention to myself just really wasn't necessary.

  “Please step forward and receive a practice weapon from my assistant Gerald, and then we can begin.” Ty nodded to the middle-aged man standing silently beside the weapons table and then stepped aside, clearly expecting everyone to do as he instructed.

  After a moment’s hesitation, the ladies began to move as instructed, and I stole an opportunity to inspect our newest tutor.

  He was handsome, which I was beginning to think might be a requirement to work at the palace. Taller than me, probably taller than Lee too, Ty was broad-shouldered, and his arms, which he folded over his chest, were thickly corded with muscles. He was clearly no stranger to combat himself, which was likely why he'd been picked to tutor us. It seemed odd, then, that he wasn't wearing a soldier's uniform. Instead he was just dressed in a loose cream shirt and soft black pants, much like the rest of us.

  It was somewhat heartening to see that most of the other ladies had used their common sense when getting dressed this morning and opted for pants over skirts. It wasn't like women weren't allowed to wear pants, but in the years since the Darkness, our once progressive country had really regressed back into old ways and older traditions.

  Making my way over to Gerald to receive my practice weapon, I discovered it harder than anticipated to pull my attention from Ty. There had to be something in the air within palace grounds because acting like a hormonal hussy wasn't like me at all. First Lee and that explosive kiss we'd shared, and now I found myself inspecting Ty—picturing what he might look like without his shirt. I'd put money on it that his chest and shoulders were just as muscled as his arms...

  “Ahem,” someone fake-coughed, ripping my focus back to what was in front of me. “Your sword, m'lady,” Gerald, a nondescript man in the palace guard uniform, said in a bored voice. In his hand he held out a wooden sword, and I took it from him with a grimace.

  It'd been years since I'd needed to train with a wooden sword. Bloodeye had started me on edged blades when I was barely seven years old, so it was going to take all of my creativity not to stand out during this lesson.

  “Form two lines, facing one another,” Ty instructed us, and the ladies all shuffled around to oblige. “Because of Lady Hyacinth's early departure, we have an uneven number of people, so I'll be filling in the gap. We will rotate partners every so often to keep you on your toes.”

  He summoned Gerald up to demonstrate with him what we were learning, and I had to bite my cheek not to laugh—not that the two of them were bad swordsmen by any means, but just at how painfully simple the moves were.

  Sighing internally, I turned to my partner and gave her a small smile of encouragement. At least I knew this was one class I wouldn't be failing. The damn binding oath wouldn't let me.

  “You ready?” I asked her, and she shrugged.

  “I guess,” she responded, waving her practice sword in front of her like some sort of magical wand. “My father always told me it wasn't a lady’s place to handle weapons, though.”

  Frowning, I inspected her. She was roughly the same height as me but with a slimmer build and autumn-colored hair. Poor girl wouldn't last two minutes in the Pond.

  “Well, I guess he was wrong if this is what the royals have instructed them to teach us.” It was the politest way I could phrase it, but the scowl creasing her brow suggested she'd taken offense at me calling her father wrong. “Whatever,” I quickly added before she could get all uppity at me. “Let's get on with this.”

  Hefting my wooden sword, I tested its weight before slowly starting the three-step sequence Ty had just demonstrated to us. Each time before my “blade” reached hers, I needed to coach my partner on how to block the strike, so when Ty called for us to switch partners, I let out a sigh of relief.

  My next handful of partners were only moderately better than the first, and I found myself spending a huge part of the morning just instructing them on how not to get whacked with a wooden sword. It only go
t worse as Ty changed the sequences to progressively harder combinations, and by the time it was my turn to pair with our tutor, my arm ached.

  “Feeling fatigued, Lady Callaluna?” he teased me, swinging his wooden sword like it weighed nothing at all.

  Grumbling under my breath, I rubbed my aching arm and took the second’s break to stretch out my tight lower back. “Maybe if you were a better tutor, I wouldn't have needed to spend the entire morning correcting everyone’s form.”

  His dark brows shot up, and a small smile ticked at his lips. “Oh, really? You think you have these forms down?” I glared a challenge at him, too tired to rein it in, and he understood exactly what my face was saying. You're damn right I have them down, you assface.

  Okay, maybe he didn't receive the message in those exact words, but his narrowed eyes said he was going to test me. Damn it all to Zryn, why couldn't I just keep my mouth shut for once?

  “Well then, let's make this more interesting for you, m'lady,” he murmured in a dangerous sort of voice that made me shiver and my nipples tighten. Shit, something really was wrong with me. “Ladies, mix things up a bit. You're free to use any of the techniques learned today. Think of it as a mock fight and do whatever your instincts tell you to do.”

  Turning back to me, he threw down a challenge of his own in the way he smirked at me. “Ready?”

  Hefting my practice sword—that felt like it was made of lead—I grinned back at him. “Born ready, Ty.”

  Without another second of banter, Ty launched his attack. For such a big guy, he moved with the speed and grace of a striking cobra, and I was embarrassed to admit to myself how much effort it took to parry his strikes.

  I did, though, and it was clear to see how surprised he was by how well I held my own.

  “You're holding back,” he grunted when I ignored the fourth or fifth opportunity to strike at him with a more advanced move—one that he hadn't taught us.

  Cocking a brow at him, I flicked my tongue across my dry lower lip to moisten it. “If I were, the oath would have zapped me by now.”