Page 27 of A Storm of Fire and Ash
“Dinner is ready. May I escort both of you lovely ladies to the hall?” he asked, stepping in between the two of us and sweeping his arms open in an inviting gesture.
“What a gentleman you are,” the Queen exclaimed, wrapping her arm through her son’s and leaning her head against his shoulder, exuding a sense of affection.
Now that they were side by side, Fintan looked just like his mother.
Fintan’s gaze shifted back to me, and he flashed that perfect smile that sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach. “Did you have a nice look around with Eryndor as well?” he inquired, his tone laced with genuine curiosity. I understood precisely what he meant.
Father had warned me against trusting the Prince, yet something about him felt trustworthy. After all, he was the one who had guided me to find my father.
“I did. Thank you, Your Royal Highness,” I responded, a smile blossoming across my face. This was the first time I had addressed him in such a formal manner; I thought it appropriate given the Queen’s presence.
As we began to walk toward the dining hall, I noted that it wasn’t far from where we had been standing.
Stepping into the great hall felt like crossing the threshold into a scene from the stories I had read in my books. The walls were decorated with flickering torches and glowing candles, casting a soft golden hue over the room. Above us, the ceiling was made entirely of glass, allowing a breathtaking view of the twinkling stars while we dined. The tables were elegantly draped in luxurious royal-blue cloth, exuding opulence.
At the far end of the hall, dead center, the King sat at the royal table. He drank mead from a gilded cup, his other hand grasping a hearty turkey leg. I felt his piercing gaze settle on me as he swallowed several gulps of mead and set the cup down with a resonant thud. An uncomfortable heat flushed through me under his scrutiny. His hair was as black as the midnight sky, and unfortunately, the prince had his eyes. He possessed a chiseled jawline, and part of me couldn’t deny that, if I didn’t despise him so fervently, I might even consider him somewhat attractive for a man in his sixties.
Desperate to distract myself from the King’s intense stare, I shifted my gaze around the hall. The royal table boasted six golden chairs, each upholstered with plush royal blue velvet. As we made our way past tables filled with others, I caught a glimpse of Kalista. I managed to offer her a warm smile, but she stared back at me with piercing eyes, shooting daggers with her glare. A wave of frustration washed over me; why did her hatred affect me so much?
The Queen gracefully detached herself from Fintan’s side, moving to take her seat next to the King. “You’ll sit next to me,” the prince said, a commanding yet inviting tone gently underlying his words.
“What? No, I couldn’t possibly sit there, Fintan!” I whispered urgently, my voice stern yet low to ensure that noone else could hear my protest. “I am not royalty,” I insisted, tension lacing my words.
“You’re mine, Elara, and I want everyone to know it. You’ll sit next to me.” I didn’t like being owned by anyone. Something about his words just didn’t feel right, yet my heart seemed to enjoy his claim.
Fintan stood tall, his presence commanding as he pulled me along just a few more steps until we arrived in front of the King. “Father, this is—” he began, but I quickly cut him off, aware that he was oblivious to the last name I had lied about earlier. “Elara Peachwood, Your Majesty,” I declared, bowing my head, doing my best to mask the disgust that crawled up my spine at the very thought of his presence.
“What an odd name, Elara Peachwood. Stand.” The King’s voice boomed, and I obeyed, straightening my posture as he scrutinized me, his gaze intrusive and unsettling. “You know, Miss Peachwood,” he said my name with disgust, “cutting the Prince off like that could call for your pretty little head.” My skin prickled under his inspection, and I felt a strong urge to crawl out of my own body.
“Enough, Father. She may introduce herself if that pleases her,” Fintan interjected, a note of disdain clear in his voice.
“It’s ‘Your Majesty,’ boy, and you better not forget who is still in charge,” the King snapped back at Fintan, his expression darkening. But he brushed off the King’s words, “Not for much longer,” Fintan challenged back. The King took a hearty bite of his turkey leg, the sound of bone cracking and flesh tearing filled the air as he flicked his wrist at us, signaling for us to move along.
Without hesitation, Fintan placed his hand on my lower back and led me toward the end of the grand table, where I caught sight of a young woman who was utterlycaptivating. The moment our eyes met, a spark of intrigue flashed between us.
“Fin,” she greeted warmly, her bright smile enhancing her beauty.
“Genevieve,” he responded kindly, a soft smile gracing his lips as he looked at her. Then he gestured to me, his voice a playful murmur. “This is Elara Peachwood.” He hardly contained a chuckle as he uttered my last name, but I held my composure.
“Peachwood, how cute!” Genevieve exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious. “I’m Genevieve, Fin’s favorite cousin!” She leaned forward, her vibrant energy captivating.
Fintan pulled out my chair with a gentle touch, tucking me in as I lowered myself onto the seat. He took his seat beside me, and on my other side sat Genevieve, who radiated a magnetic charm. “It’s lovely to meet you,” I managed to say, my voice slightly wavering as I took in her long, straight, light blonde hair that cascaded down her shoulders, and her dark green eyes that glimmered like precious stones. She was draped in a dazzling array of crystals and jewels that sparkled in the dim light.
As the feast began, Fintan eagerly grabbed food from the platter in front of us, expertly arranging a significant portion on my plate. My mouth watered at the sight of the juicy turkey and creamy mashed potatoes piled high. He made sure that my plate was filled to the brim.
“Thank you,” I smiled shyly at him, grateful for his kindness amidst the overwhelming grandeur of the banquet.
We began our meal, and the atmosphere lightened as Genevieve engaged us in conversation. She recounted amusing stories of her childhood, detailing how Fintan used to tease her relentlessly when they were little. Their banter was easy and playful, hinting at a deep bond they shared. I listened intently, my heart warming to their camaraderie.Despite my initial anxiety, I found myself laughing freely, my tension easing as the evening progressed.
Every bite of food I took filled me with delight, and I soon cleared my plate of every morsel. I felt impossibly full, my stomach satisfied to the point of reluctance towards any additional offerings. However, when Genevieve persisted in refilling my glass of mead, I indulged, gulping down large swigs until the glass was empty again. A soft buzz of warmth spread through me, and I could feel my head starting to spin slightly from the alcohol.
I laughed at something Genevieve said and placed my hand on Fintan’s upper thigh, not thinking much of my wandering hand. “Let me walk you back,” Fintan whispered in my ear, sending shivers cascading down my body. His breath was warm against my skin, igniting a flutter of unexpected feelings.
“Okay,” I replied, biting my lip in a moment of nervousness. I quickly released it when his gaze shifted, drawn to my mouth, an unspoken tension swirling in the air between us. It felt like the world around us had blurred, leaving only the two of us caught in this fleeting moment.
Chapter Eight
The way he looked at me had my panties soaked. Or maybe I was just drunk from the wine.
