The Noriel carriage stopped at the palace steps while the day edged past its peak.
Aline adjusted her gloves and forced her hands to stay still.
"Stop fidgeting," her mother said. Shalen Noriel sat across from her, dressed in deep green silk that matched her eyes. "You look nervous."
"I'm fine."
"You're pulling at your sleeves." Her mother's gaze sharpened. "Is it him?"
Aline kept her gaze on the window instead. "It's nothing."
"It's always something when it comes to your cousin."
"Shalen." Hosrick's voice held a warning. He sat beside his wife, broad-shouldered and gray at the temples, wearing the kind of expression that suggested he'd rather be anywhere else. "Leave her alone."
"I'm simply observing."
"You're prodding."
"Someone has to."
Cassar bounced on the seat between them. "Are there going to be horses?"
"No, darling," Shalen said.
"Swords?"
"No."
"What about—"
"There will be food and boring conversation," Hosrick cut in. "Try to look interested."
