Page 8 of Dreams of Ash and Smoke

As I step inside, the herald announces my name and title, causing curious eyes to turn toward me. But most of the attendees already know who I am — the prince’s betrothed. Not necessarily a captivating title but I was going to be their queen and that gave me a certain level of respect and understanding.

My eyes sweep over the grand hall, taking in my finished work. The rich hues of red and gold drape gracefully over the beams, casting a warm glow throughout the space. Delicate candles twinkle on every surface, adding to the enchantment of the room. And in the midst of it all stands Dryston’s approved decor, complete with a touch of vibrant light green that ties the whole design together.

I spot Dryston conversing with a Lord and make my way toward them, Hadeon following close behind. As I approach, I give a respectful curtsy before addressing Dryston. “Your Majesty,” I say, my voice steady, despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach.

His gaze lingers on me for a moment before turning back to the conversation at hand. He doesn’t seem as pleased as I had hoped, but he alsodoesn’t look disapproving. At least not yet. Turning to address the Lord, I smile brightly and offer a polite greeting.

“My Lord,” I greet him with a bright smile, hoping to mask any signs of anxiety. “It is an honor to have you here to celebrate this wondrous occasion. I trust Lady Jacoby was able to join us as well?” My words are polite and carefully chosen, reflecting the grace and poise expected of me as an event planner for the royal court.

He smiles back, pleased with my attention and appearance. “She did. My lady is off with the others, gossiping, no doubt,” He laughs. Dryston motions for me to make my rounds so I take my leave and do just that, greeting familiar and unfamiliar faces.

In the lively and bustling room, I retreat to a quiet corner and savor the smooth burn of bourbon as I observe the revelry around me. The band’s melodies fill the space, inviting people to sway and twirl on the dance floor. My senses are overwhelmed by the intoxicating combination of music, tantalizing food scents, vibrant sights, animated chatter, and alluring perfumes. The rich warmth of bourbon coursing through my body soothes and comforts me.

Hadeon, my companion for the evening, is nearby charming a pixie from our court. He periodically glances toward me, making sure I am well in his absence.

It’s nice.

Until it isn’t.

As darkness creeps into the room, a hush falls over the crowd, with only the lively music of the band continuing to fill the space. Goosebumps prickle along my skin, but it’s not from the cold, nor is it the same dreadful chill from Dryston I am use to.

The grand doors swing open, revealing the Herald, his staff hitting the ground with a resounding thud as he announces the arrival of our guest. “May I present King Eryx of Khyrel.” The heavy doors slam shut behind him, cutting off any outside noise and amplifying the tension in the room.

As the people around him turn to stare, Dryston’s sharp gaze fixes on the approaching king in a show of respect. I follow his lead and make myway toward them, but as Dryston catches my eye from behind the imposing figure of the Dark King, he subtly shakes his head at me. Taking the cue, I shift my path and continue forward with purpose, each step closer to the throne room as it fills with tension and anticipation. The air is thick with a mix of awe and fear, as all eyes are fixed on the meeting between two powerful rulers.

* * *

The first dance of the night consists of the King— or in this case, soon-to-be— and whomever he chooses. Since I am his betrothed, it is naturally me.

Dryston leads me to the middle of the dance floor as the band prepares for the next song. I chose it to be the same song we first danced too, wanting to be a little romantic in my softer heart.

He takes my right hand in his left and places his right hand on my hip, fingers delicately playing with the skin of my bare back. Dryston pulls me closer. “This dress is dangerous, Verena.” His voice deepens and sends a rush of tingles down to my stomach mixing with the booze.

“I hoped you’d like it. I had it made with you in mind.” A blush creeps along my chest up to my cheeks, the overwhelming need to gain his approval burning my skin from the inside out. “I wasn’t sure red would look this nice on me.”

“I prefer pink on you, you know that. I forget how beautiful you are until we have events like this and then I get a lovely reminder.” He speaks low, his fingers still rubbing small circles on my back as we dance together.

I take note of everyone’s reactions; the smiles and whispers about how perfect we are together. But it doesn’t flood me with the sensation of pride it use to.

I can’t help but stew on his words. He is complimenting me but why does it feel as though he is insulting me? Was it the answer I wanted? Of course not. But he gets busy and we rarely see each other.

But… then why do I feel as though his touch is suddenly making me sick? A wave of nausea hits me as I force it back, smiling through the feeling taking over.

The dance ends and as he bows his head, I curtsy, then we walk our separate ways.

The ladies joining us, who are not married, usually have to accept dances from everyone who asks. But, even as an adolescent, I was never asked by anyone other than Dryston himself since we are engaged to be married. Dryston refuses to let anyone else dance with me—always has. He said it was disrespectful for anyone to dance with me because it meant they thought they had a chance.

I quickly down another glass of bourbon, hoping to drown out my nerves. As I glance up from the beverage table, I am met with a pair of mesmerizing dark brown eyes, penetrating me as they study my every move.

Couples twirl and sway on the dance floor, their laughter and joy filling the air. Meanwhile, Dryston is deep in conversation with his mother and some important Lords. Hadeon continues to charm and flirt with a pixie, leaving me alone with the Dark King.

My gaze remains locked onto his, unable to tear away. Despite my fear, I can’t help but admire his tall stature, chiseled physique, and strikingly handsome features.

He is quite literally the most beautiful being I have ever laid eyes on. In that moment, time seems to stand still and I find myself holding my breath in awe of him.

His ebony eyes seem to absorb all light around them. His tousled jet black hair cascades over his forehead, giving him a effortlessly handsome appearance. As I look at him, I can’t help but wonder if he just woke up or had the most passionate lovemaking session of his life. The thought sends shivers down my spine and a wave of red-hot envy surges through me.

I find myself subconsciously tracing my fingers over my birthmark, hidden under my dress. The small bird shaped patch on my hip always brings me comfort, but in this moment it seems to be pulsing with an intensity that matches my own racing heartbeat. As I take a deep breathand remind myself to remain calm, the air fills my lungs and replaces the dizzying sensation that had taken over me for a moment.

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