The Most Powerful Of Kings - Jackie Ashenden Page 0,37

her a dress to borrow for the night from one of Axios’s most talented designers, while offering her stylist’s services to do her hair and make-up. Anna decided not to lie about the reasons for slipping into the ball even though she hadn’t been invited, and Calista had been wholeheartedly on Anna and Ione’s side.

And so, a week later, Anna found herself standing in front of a small side door—a staff entrance—that led into the grand ballroom of the palace, dressed in a stunning ballgown of ice-blue silk and silver lace, with an overskirt of silver net sewn with crystals, with her hair, golden and gleaming, piled high on her head and perfect make-up, ready to crash the king’s reception.

She felt strange, utterly unlike herself, as if she’d put on someone else’s clothing. Nerves fluttered in her stomach, making her feel slightly sick. She’d been feeling off-colour the past couple of days, though it hadn’t turned into anything more than tiredness and the occasional bout of nausea, so she’d mostly ignored it. Right now, though, it felt worse, making it difficult to find the calm that usually got her through the most trying days in the convent.

This was a move the Reverend Mother wouldn’t approve of, that was certain, but then, Anna wasn’t doing this for herself, just so she could go to a party and wear a ballgown. Or even to see the king she couldn’t stop thinking about.

She was doing this for Ione.

The staff member leaned forward and pushed open the door, and abruptly Anna was thrust into a massive room full of beautiful people wearing beautiful clothes, where the air buzzed with the sound of conversation and the tones of a small orchestra played in one corner.

The vaulted stone ceiling was crisscrossed with heavy beams around which coiled lots of delicate lights. The stone walls had been softened by the inevitable tapestries, along with silken wall hangings. Pots of trees had been placed everywhere as well as enormous tubs of flowers. There were even fountains, giving the illusion of a lovely and elaborate garden that had been brought inside.

It was beautiful, and for a second Anna wanted to simply enjoy it for herself.

But that wasn’t why she was here.

Steeling herself, she stepped forward into the crowd.

Adonis stood next to the wall beside one of the big potted rhododendrons, taking advantage of a minute’s gap in the constant round of small talk to scan the crowd, to make sure the evening was proceeding as planned.

The celebration to mark the signing of Axios’s latest treaty wasn’t something he was particularly enjoying. Unlike his brother, who loved a good party, Adonis did not like parties. Nevertheless, many Axians did like to have a fuss made, so he’d ensured the maximum amount of fuss for this particular occasion, opening the royal wine cellars and making sure the royal chefs did not disappoint for the official dinner.

And, indeed, they had not.

A triumph, people were saying, which he took as Axios’s due. He might not like parties, but even he could appreciate how a good one could earn respect.

The crowd in the ballroom shifted and turned, the air full of conversation and the sounds of the orchestra. Jewels and sequins sparkled, the light also glinting off medals and cufflinks, while people laughed and talked and drank vintage champagne from the best palace crystal.

Restlessness coiled inside him. A familiar restlessness. It had been rattling around and around inside him like a lion pacing before the bars of his cage, and nothing seemed to get rid of it. He’d been spending long hours in his gym and in the pool, working himself into physical exhaustion, but that hadn’t helped. Even rounds in the boxing ring hadn’t got rid of it.

He’d tried to fill his days as much as he could with the endless demands of kingship, trying to ignore it, but that hadn’t helped either. At the end of each day he lay awake in his bed, that restlessness eating away inside him, and he’d have to get up and walk the corridors just to satisfy it.

As a consequence, he was in a foul mood.

It didn’t help that a part of him knew exactly why he was restless, but it was a part he didn’t want to acknowledge and so he didn’t. Except during the day, when sometimes he could hear the sounds of his daughter’s laughter, and along with it the sound of another laugh. Deeper and a little huskier than Ione’s clear bell