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“Royalty does not mean privileged; it means trickery, corruption, and no moments of peace.”

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The guards took our horse and carriage without a second glance. Two others ushered Levan and I into the castle, their backs straight and their gaze forward.

I was expecting the Heart soldiers to be more laid back, not to act like their objective was the Diamond’s: Order, Unity, Honor—among many others of the same. Well, they are soldiers. I peek in my peripheral to see Levan acting the same, his once grinning face grim and as hard as stone.

And here I am fiddling with my fingers and looking at the tall, decorated walls as we walk. I stop a portrait, an old one by the looks of it, with the late King and Queen of Heart smiling perfectly, their dark hair, the same color of their loved roses, curled and pinned in the painting. It seems so realistic that it feels like their eyes are staring at me with awareness.

Like they are still alive.

I look away and turn the corner with the guards and Levan to two large doors.

“This is where you will wait for the Prince, Ambassador,” one guards says to me, the other opening the door.

“O-okay,” I reply, uncertainty tinging my words. Levan breaks out of his character for a moment to give me a grin, then he pushes me inside in front of him and the guards close the doors behind us.

The room is smaller than I thought it would be, thinking back to the doors. It is very beautiful, I will say that. Black and white heart-shaped cushions and loveseats with tables in front of them occupy the whole space. On the walls, clear mirrors perch, lined by roses and white flowers that I cannot name. To the left of me, three people sit eyeing me curiously.

My curved collar suddenly feels tight—the paint on my face pulled awkwardly by the large smile I smear on my face. I adjust my collarband and walk towards the three. I bow respectfully, Levan bowing with me, and rise to say, “Ambassador Yant of the Clubs. It’s a pleasure to meet you High Prince of Spade and Honored Damsel of Diamond.”

They do not respond. It’s eerily silent for a few shaky beats of my heart, before the Damsel laughs.

“Really! A Five of Clubs—the King must really have no one stronger in that weak kingdom of his. Tell me…Ambassador Yant,” she leans forward in her seat, her blonde hair, cut short to her scalp glistening in the light of the ceiling candles, and gives me a smile that seems predatory on her strong set jaw, “How much do you know about why you’re here?”

This time, it is I who does not respond. Instead, I look at the black diamond that sits proudly on the base of her throat. Her clothes are tailored in a way that shows her rank and race while still shielding her virtue. A sword lies on her hip, still sheathed thankfully, and her entire body seems to be pulsating with energy; thick, strong, and full of curves. She looks like she’s waiting for me to say something, anything, so she can start a fight.

I do have to answer, sadly. She is of higher rank and a royal at that.

The High Prince of Spade, and what most likely is his own guard, watch us lazily from where they lounge on a loveseat. “I will admit, Dear Damsel, I have not been told much of this visit to Sangue.”

The Damsel is about to say something when the High Prince speaks before her. “We’ve come here as representatives of our country to watch the Prince become a King. And no doubt after he becomes King, we will all die, starting a War that will bring horror that no one has ever seen to these lands.” His guard stiffens at his words, but she doesn’t say anything. He stops, putting his thumb into his mouth and stretching his legs, a cut in his robe exposing them and the black Spade on his knee, across his guard’s lap. “Was that what you were about to say, Rumandad? Or did you not guess why that was the reason why your mother sent you here…alone and without your Honor? Did she say that this would be your chance to gain it back? You poor, poor thing.”

The Damsel works her jaw, hands fisting in her lap. “My mother would never do that, you Spade,” she fires back.

“Your mother is a smart woman, even the Empress thinks so,” is all he responds with.

I’ve sat on a cushion at this point, and watching the two agure. Levan sits beside me watching as well, his lips pursed as he processes the High Prince’s words.

So. After all this, I’m going to die. My plan seems to be a failure then. I could run, I suppose, but my King knows my name and my Grandma after I told him where she lives so that he could send someone to watch her. Running away now, I could get us both killed. But staying here, I would get killed, if what the High Prince is saying is true, and my Grandma would live and still be protected by the King—we Clubs have a rule, to Protect if they have no one else to turn to.

There seems to be only one choice to this, and as Levan gives me a look of worry, my stupid little heart, no matter how small and greedy it is, roots me to the stop.

I might make it alive through this, even if the chance is small, and I still need that money for a new life. If a War starts, Grandma and I will be long gone before it reaches us.

We all turn as the doors open and a older man walks in, a Three of Hearts. “All welcome, Soon-To-Be King, the Ebony Rose of Death, the Prince of Hearts, Venus Heart!”