Events at the palace were always extravagant, but the yearly banquet was a creature all its own. Every spare room in the building had been filled the night before with guests from around the continent, rich and royal supporters of the Aspirian monarchy, while the on-site servants had been hard at work decorating the ballroom. Every table, chair, banister and wall was practically dripping in luxury by the time they were done with it, and visitors were already milling about admiring the sights and sampling the hors d'oeuvres before the party. Both the men and the women were dressed in expensive, colorful dresses and suits, washing the ballroom floor in painted fabrics that created an impressive tapestry from above—which was where Caspian found himself at the start of that evening.

Once he’d settled himself over his appearance in his room, Harry had stopped by to let him know it was time for him to make his grand appearance for the banquet. With one last glance in the mirror, Cas had followed him and two other guards out to the top of the staircase, where he hovered as his presence was announced to the crowd below, and he stood with a forced smile as the sea of politicians applauded as if he was a celebrity. He’d never liked all the pomp and pageantry at these things—showing up for a rooftop party with a bunch of people his own age was much more appealing—but he just grinned and bore it until the clapping tapered off, and he could descend the stairs while everyone else resumed their mingling.

It felt a little surreal to be back in front of a capital crowd. The last time he’d seen this many people gathered in one place had been his father’s funeral. He swallowed as the thought threatened to stir up unwanted memories of Atlas. Of Iris. Her face flashed through his mind again, and he felt his lip twitch, fighting against the frown that tried to take over. He still missed her deeply, but he couldn’t think about that now. There was nothing he could do to bring her back, he reminded himself for the thousandth time, and fixating on her would just exhaust him. Right now, he needed to get through the banquet, make his rounds among the invited guests, and find Suphate King Quincy to talk about his proposition.

Who knew? Maybe somewhere along the way, he would even start to enjoy himself.

That was what he hoped for as the evening wore on, and he circled around the ballroom, greeting people he hadn’t seen in a year and answering questions about his plans as the new ruler of Aspiria. Everyone seemed most curious about his agendas—and about whether he had any plans to find himself a queen. He knew why they were asking, of course, since he was acutely aware of the fact that the entire royal line hinged on him now that his father was gone, the rest of his extended family had been cut from the will, and he had no siblings or heirs of his own. If anything happened to him, the monarchy would crumble, and Aspiria had no backup plan in place.

Still, he didn’t like feeling pressured into a relationship, so even though he understood the weight his singleness carried in the eyes of his allies, he kept his answers vague, only telling the politicians that he had some prospects on the horizon but hadn’t made any firm commitments yet. That was enough to keep them off his back, and he would move on to the next groups, repeating most of the same topics with them.

After about two hours, he was finally approached by one of his guards, who let him know that the royal family from Suphate had arrived and were looking to speak with him. Excusing himself from the family he had just been conversing with—and breathing an inward sigh of relief that he didn’t have to humor their suggestion of taking more than one bride to grow the Maydestone royal tree faster—he followed the guard over to the base of the grand stairs, where he spotted a familiar face through the crowd.

“King Caspian,” Quincy greeted him with a broad smile, one hand resting on the shoulder of a young woman dressed in all white at his side. “Thank you for responding to my letter. You remember my daughter, Raine, don’t you?”

[color=#b97703]“It’s been a while, but yes, I do,”[/color] Cas nodded, offering a smile of his own. [color=#b97703]“It’s good to see you again.”[/color]

“You as well, Your Majesty,” Raine dipped into a curtsey and extended a gloved hand toward him. Her long, dark hair had been pinned up in loose curls, framing her olive-skinned cheeks. She was short and lithe—very unlike her stout father—with a cinched waist and supple curves that had been highlighted by her fitted cocktail dress. However, the most striking feature about her were her bright green eyes, highlighted piercingly with black liner. After ten years apart, she certainly knew how to make an impression.

Following the steps of tradition, Cas placed a kiss to the back of her hand and inclined his head toward one of the drink tables near the edge of the ballroom. [color=#b97703]“Why don’t we grab something to drink while we catch up? The champagne is excellent tonight.”[/color]

“Let’s,” Quincy agreed eagerly.

As the visiting king shepherded them both over to the table, Cas could see that he was practically buzzing with excitement. He felt a little guilty for not matching the Suphates’ enthusiasm, but ultimately, their meeting wasn’t about his feelings anyway. He was considering their proposal because it was a good move for Aspiria. It was just politics, nothing more. And it was better this way. If he left his feelings out of it, like he should have done with Iris, no one else would get hurt. So, taking a steeling breath, he picked up a champagne flute and readied himself to discuss options for an arranged marriage.