The Gantean (Tales of Blood & Light Book 1) by Emily June Street Page A

southern custom. Unlike his father, the prince screamed for notice: everything about him—his crisp white coat, his fitted breeches, the breadth of his shoulders—served as a trap for my attention. He looked like one of the cast statues we’d passed on the walk up the Palace steps, gleaming, shaped by artistic hands. I’d never seen a man like him. Other Lethemian men, even Tiercel, struck my eyes as effeminate, with their slicked hair and carefully arranged clothes, but Costas Galatien had the strength and presence of a Gantean combined with the glittering allure of more .
    He noticed my gaze and smiled with a quick quirk of his mouth even as he guided Ghilene to greet his father. No one else had seen the flash of his notice; that smile was a private thing made only for me. Hurriedly I turned my attention back to Ghilene’s train, shifting it higher as she moved. The tugging sensation in my gut did not stop.
    Lady Entila and her retinue were given rooms in the Palace’s eastern wing. Ghilene hurried into her room—causing me to scramble to keep the train away from her feet. She giggled with excitement. “Did you see him? Did you see him? He was just as handsome as everyone says! He kissed my hand!”
    “Who?”
    “Are you blind? Costas Galatien, of course! The Palace servants should have delivered my things by now. Hurry, find my lavender dress for dinner tonight! And I want to wear my pearls, the pink ones.”
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    A table made from a cross section of a giant tree ran nearly the length of the dining hall, a slice of wonder my mind could hardly grasp. Gantean trees were small and stunted. I wanted to see the forest that had produced such an enormous tree. Had I not manners to remember, I would have stared open-mouthed at everything in the dining hall: the painted ceiling, the gold beams, the glittering glass orbs filled with light that dangled from the ceiling on threads so thin they might as well be floating.
    More , said that sayantaqvoice inside me. Show me more. Dazzle me. Transport me. Amaze me more.
    Mydon Galatien stood at the head of the table and opened his arms. “Let us eat together!”
    For each chair situated round the table, a stool had been provided. These stools—for servants like me—were so low that only my head and shoulders would peek above the table. I suppressed a nervous laugh. I would look like a begging dog.
    Ghilene settled into her taller seat as I held it for her, and then I lowered myself onto my stool. Prince Costas and his manservant sat across from us. I snatched glances at them to make sure I served the food onto Ghilene’s plate in the correct way. Costas Galatien had the most luminous skin. I wondered if he brushed it with something to make it gleam. I wanted to look closer but I did not dare.
    “Lady Ghilene,” Costas said, leaning across the table. “How pretty your dress is. It brings out the lovely color of your eyes.”
    Ghilene flushed. Her hands twisted her servlet in her lap. “Thank you,” she said meekly.
    Costas gazed at Ghilene as if she were the only person at the table. “What is your age?” he asked.
    Did he calculate to convey his interest? Surely Ghilene would take it that way.
    “I am fifteen years old,” she replied.
    Costas nodded vaguely. “Old enough to marry, then.”
    Ghilene stared at him, her green eyes wide. I’d never seen her struck dumb, but apparently the Lethemian prince had a power over her that no one else did.
    Costas attended his food for a moment before speaking again. “I practice my martial arts in the morning, before breakfast. Would you like to come observe? Do you enjoy such games?”
    “My brother practices,” replied Ghilene with an eager tremble in her voice.
    “Bring him, if you wish, and your handmaiden, too.”
    Prince Costas’s gaze turned to me, making me feel as conspicuous as a black hare in a drift of new snow. His attention had a snaring effect, drawing in its object like a trap. Ghilene, still flustered,