Glenn Gentrey Cover Exlplained

Take a look at Grace’s brand-new book. There is a lot to unpack from just the front cover. On the front, there is Glenn’s silhouette, her tell-tale hair spilling down out of a bun, her eyes burning straight ahead, sure and steady. Inside that, a ballroom scene plays out. For those perceptive readers who have taken a closer look, they may notice that this scene is not actually in the book. The scene shows Glenn, in a long billowing ballgown, dancing with another gentleman. Standing off to the side, another man watches. If the scene had made it into the final copy of the book, the man dancing with Glenn would have been revealed to be Warren. Reed is the one watching dejectedly from the edges of the ballroom. This scene was never published, but it was written. Below is what inspired the cover art:

I descended the stairs slowly, trying and failing not to look at my feet. My mother’s voice rang out in my ears Head high! Shoulders straight! Smile! I couldn’t do all of them, so I was trying to focus on not falling. Someone above me was rattling on, announcing my title and my claim to high stature and calling on my father as proof of lineage and his father and his father’s father. It was a long ordeal, and I was at the bottom of the grand staircase before they had finished. My evergreen dress bloomed around me in ruffles like levels of downy leaves falling around me in graceful curves. I wore elegant gloves that came nearly to the crook of my elbow. I fiddled with them now, waiting for my brothers to finish racing each other down the stairs and dreading the long night ahead of me. As my eyes swept the crowd aimlessly, not necessarily looking for anything or anyone. I did find someone, though. Or rather, someone found me.

From across the span of people, a pair of shimmering gray eyes locked with mine. It was Warren. He and his family stood in an even line on the other side of the ballroom. The King and Queen on their pedestal, then Reed beside his father, then Warren. Reed respectfully listened as each member of the royal court was introduced and their families. Warren watched me with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. You look miserable, he seemed to say. You don’t look much better I shot back with a scathing glare.

A courtier cleared his throat and all attention turned to him. “In accordance with tradition and the wishes of the King and Queen, Prince Reed, the rising King of Leangap, will begin the dances this evening. Any young lady may be chosen.“

I glanced back at Reed, who was turning to retrieve the gold circlet that set him apart as the rising King. When he found it was missing, I could tell he was trying hard not to look alarmed. Where had the crown gone? No one else seemed to even notice Reed’s dilemma because the attention of the crowd was focused entirely on the similarly dressed young man pushing his way to the center of the room. On his mousey curls, a circle of intricate gold leaves sat askew. It was Warren, doing one more thing to anger his brother and parents. His eyes swept the crowd, looking for one unlucky girl to dance with. That’s when his eyes met mine. He sauntered over, looking to the rest of the world like a gentleman. I saw right through that. I saw a self-serving, pampered palace brat.

He bowed low in front of me, a smirk on his face. “My Lady,” he began, “may I have this dance?”

I shook my head, but my mother shot me a scathing glare and pushed me forward. I grimaced and lowered myself into a cursty. “The pleasure is yours,” I whispered for only him to hear.

He grinned and offered me his hand, which I took after only a moment’s hesitation. He led me to the center of the ballroom as people backed up to give us space. The band began playing in soft notes. He bowed, I curtsied, and we began. I had one hand clasped tightly in his and the other on his shoulder. The hand I wasn’t holding was on my waist.

“How are you enjoying the festivities tonight?”

I eyed him carefully, looking for any clues to what he was playing at. His gaze was over my shoulder, always on the crowd. As we spun, I glanced behind him and caught sight of Reed’s face among the many. He was trying hard to keep his composure, but his gaze never left Warren.

“Fine.” I lied. I was watching the other dancers now. We’d started as a solo act, all eyes on our waltz, but slowly couples were joining us. A woman beside us never looked up from her feet, and the gentleman dancing with her was sniffing her hair. An older couple by the door simply clung to each other and swayed.

“Not me,” he said, his eyes flicking momentarily to my face before looking away again. “Too many people.”

I nodded, and before I could stop myself, I admitted, “Sometimes I do wish I could slip away.”

He faltered in his waltz, tripping himself momentarily before correcting himself. “Let do it.”

Now it was my turn to falter. “What? We can’t just disappear. My mother will kill me.”

“Then just a small disappearance, five minutes tops.”

I bit back a smile. “And how do you propose we do that?”

Those piercing eyes finally met mine as a sly smile crept across his lips. “Like this.”

Before I could say a word he’d sprung into action. Our gentle waltz was easy enough to follow, I had memorized a hundred moves with a sword so this was a walk in the park, but in the midst of a turn, he coyly stuck out his leg and caught my shoe. I slid, gripping the shoulder of his suit as I fell, but I didn’t need to worry about falling. The pressure from his hand on my back increased as He caught me and twirled me into a dramatic swoon that ended in our faces being inches from each other. Although he kept his face a mask of concern, beneath the facade, I could see a twinkle of laughter in his eyes. He slowly righted me as the crowds finished their first round of gasping. He led me to the far side of the ballroom as spectators gathered around us. I shot him a look, and he winked at me. Play along, he seemed to say.

So I did. I fluttered a fan in front of my face with an ornate fan I’d slipped from the purse of a nearby noblewoman and tried to look faint.

“I’ll accompany Miss Gentrey outside. The fresh air will do her some good.”

Amazingly, they let him. With one hand still supporting me, he opened the door to the courtyard and led me into the cool night air. As soon as the door closed behind us, we both let out relived laughs. “How did that work?” I said, smiling and casting the fan aside.

He shrugged. “Fortune favors the bold.”

I playfully hit him on the shoulder. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to let him know I had a bone to pick.

He rolled his shoulder and looked offended. “What was that for? I got you out of there, didn’t I?” His white teeth glinted at me from the darkness, and I found myself smiling too.

“You tripped me!”

“So?”

I huffed and started walking up the rocky path that ended in a freestanding stone arch. He ran to catch up with me, and together we walked silently up the aisle that Reed would one day become King on. I bounced happily beside me as if there was no one else in the world he would rather be ditching a ball with. I paused as a thought hit me. “What will you do?” I asked. In the dim light from the crescent moon, I could see the confusion so I clarified. “When Reed is King.”

The change in his face was immediate, not because he reacted but because of the lack of reaction. His face seemed to still, and his eyes grew distant. The happy bouces that were his steps suddenly stopped. We came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the aisle, both of us earthshaking silent.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. Each word seemed important and was emphasized as such. “Reed was born king, but it’s a burden I wouldn’t wish on anyone.” He paused so long I wondered if that’s all he would say about. With a shaky breath, he finally continued, “You know all those fairytales where the King’s sons fight over his kingdom?”

He glanced at me, and I nodded, hoping I hadn’t responded too quickly and showed how I was holding on to his every word.

“Well, they are all wrong. If I were Reed, I would beg me to take the crown. I wouldn’t want the responsibilities, the title, the rules, the publicity for all the world.” He glanced at me then, it was a quick look and only lasted a fraction of a second, but there was something hidden in it. What was it? Fear? Pity? Worry? It was gone in a blink, leaving me wondering what he wasn’t telling me.

We took the last few steps to the alter and sat beneath the arch, my dress poofing comically around me. He pretended not to notice how I shifted uncomfortably in my dress and instead sat beside me, not caring if his perfect suit wrinkled.

“What about you?” he asked, shaking me from my stupor.

I turned from watching the ravens peck the ground by the castle and looked him dead in the eye. “Do?”

His face was blank again, scarily so, almost like he was scared to show any of the thoughts that raged behind his eyes. “When Reed is King.”

It seemed like a loaded question like he expected a certain response. What response was it? “Oh,” I said, stalling. I’d probably keep fighting for the Mages, but I couldn’t say that. “I don’t think things will change much.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, Reed respects, or fears, his father too much to change his policies too much.”

It was his turn to stall “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Oh.”

Something in his expression told me my explanation had surprised him. Had it been the correct response? I didn’t know. But I knew he wasn’t angry with me. A thin smile was spreading across his lips. He stood slowly and turned, tucking one hand behind his back and extending the other to me. “Shall we finish our dance?”

I arched my eyebrow, “What about the ball?”

He shrugged. “I’ll go in later and say I escorted you to your room.”

“Why would you lie for me?”

Again he shrugged, but there was something different about this one. He never looked away this time. “I think you’re forgetting that you got me out of that ball too.”

I smiled and took his hand. After much readjusting of my dress to let me stand without falling, I joined him on the moonlit cobblestones of the aisle. It was a slow procession at first. Just the two of us watching the world spin slowly around as we moved to the music leaking from the ballroom. Somewhere in there, a trumpet was blaring a hauntingly sad ballad. He spun me once, letting his hand trail my arm once before letting me go. I spun to a gentle stop under the arch. I turned to watch him go as the trumpet began its final crescendo. Warren turned and slipped his hands into his pockets and walked back up the aisle to the ballroom. I could have stood there forever, watching him return to the place he hated just to let me have a free evening if it weren’t for the dove that fluttered down and came to rest at my feet.

Bee needed me.

With one final look after Warren, who by now was inside and giving my polite excuses, I turned and ran.