Page 8 of Blood and Fate

Tessa turned back to her, concern wrinkling her forehead. “Are you feeling okay now?”

“Better, yes.”

Tessa moved back toward her and picked up the brush from the dressing table, beginning to drag it through Satori’s long golden blonde locks. “Their leader, or whatever he was, seemed to be paying extra attention to you.”

Satori’s eyes met Tessa’s in the mirror again. “Oh?”

Had everyone noticed their connection, as Kais had called it?

“You didn’t notice?” Tessa’s hands stalled. “After you danced he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.”

Satori didn’t trust her voice, she only gave a small shake of her head and dropped her eyes to the table in front of her. The room was closing in on her again. She shifted in her seat even as she counted the strokes of the brush through her hair. Tessa was a second-generation lady’s maid, and she had been taught that the way to keep a royal’s hair shining was one hundred strokes every night. Usually Satori didn’t mind, even found it relaxing, but tonight she needed to be up, away, and out.

Ninety-eight... ninety-nine... one hundred.

As soon as Tessa set the brush down beside her, Satori stood, her knee knocking into the dressing table. She barely noticed as she turned and moved toward the large set of doors that opened onto her own private balcony. Pushing aside the curtains, she grasped both handles and wrenched the doors open. She was met by a chilly evening breeze that sent her night dress billowing out behind her, plastering the front to her legs.

Wordlessly, Tessa handed Satori her dressing gown. She paused for a moment. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Satori pulled the gown tight around her. “I’m fine, Tessa. Really. You can go.”

“Alright.” Tessa dipped into a slight curtsey. “Goodnight, Your Highness.”

“Goodnight,” Satori said as she stepped up to the balcony rail.

Her rooms were many floors up, giving her a lovely view of the castle grounds. Though at this hour, with only a sliver of moon, she had to rely on her memory to see below.

The balcony was long, running the length of her suite of rooms, and it was one of her favorite places.

“Good evening, Satori.”

She nearly jumped out of her skin, her head whipping toward the silken voice on the other end of her private balcony. Henrik was still a way off, but he was coming toward her. The light from the moon glinted off the bright gold thread running through his pale blue coat. Panic filled her as she backed away, clutching her very thin dressing gown tightly around her. Not tonight, not tonight.

She cleared her throat. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Her voice shook, and she tried to steady it, but it was a response he had elicited from her since she was young.

He had visited her on her balcony before, but it had been quite a while. Recently he had favored her rooms. She had finally started to feel safe here again. Her heart thundered in her chest, and her vision was beginning to swim. Don’t pass out, don’t pass out. Pull yourself together, Satori.

He was still advancing on her, slowly, the long fingers of his left hand trailing idly along the stone of the balcony rail. Henrik was forty years old and still staggeringly attractive, and she hated him all the more for it. Courtiers would come to visit and Satori would have to sit in rooms and listen to them gossip about the King’s advisor and how blue his eyes were, and how they would love to run their fingers through his wavy, sandy brown locks. How his hands were a work of art, and what it must feel like to be caressed by them.

Vile. It felt vile.

“It’s cold out here tonight.”

Her eyes snapped from his hands to his face. He was tall, his height always making her feel small. Her breath hitched as he drew closer still, nearly in front of her. If only Tessa would return. He stopped inches in front of her.

“You are not supposed to be here,” she repeated her earlier words, but they held no volume and less threat.

He reached out and trailed one finger down her cheek, along her jaw, and over the collar of her dressing gown. She looked away, silently willing him to leave.

Powerless is how he made her feel. When she was younger, partly due to Henrik, she had begged her father to allow her to train with the captain of their guard. Nothing too involved, simply basic concepts to defend herself. Her father had not allowed it, saying that as the Princess she would have guards with her at all times. All times except when she was alone in her room. She suspected Henrik had some say in her father’s choices.

She stepped back, out of his reach, fully aware of the end of the balcony behind her. If he advanced on her, there would be nowhere to go. Nowhere but down. She allowed herself a glance at the railing. Maybe down would be preferable.

Henrik, hand still hovering in the air, noticed. He glanced over the balcony and then back to her. Another step. She was caged in.

“Surely my company is preferable to death?”

---