Page 6 of The King's Queen

“I know. Now get dressed so I can go.” She points a well-manicured finger towards the beautiful gown from earlier. I oblige and slip into it, noting the way the silk fits my every curve like a glove. The fabric is soft, but by no means is the gown comfortable. I put on my slippers and make to leave when Tanja rushes forward, a tiara in hand.

“Just know I love you very much, and that I will be back in the morning.” She kisses my cheek after fastening the tiara in place and flings open the door before I have the opportunity to ask any questions.

“Have fun!” Tanja drawls out the word ‘fun’ before turning away as a heavy hand lands on my shoulder.

“Hello, Blaine.”

“Mei Reinhavich.” He nods curtly and extends his arm. I ignore the thrum of energy that shocks through my core as I accept it, draping my own across his. He clears his throat, and we begin our walk to the dining hall, where my father and this mysterious delegate await.

“So, do you know what this meeting is about?”

“Perhaps.”

“And I’m guessing you can’t tell me what it’s about?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Typical. We continue in silence, our echoing footsteps the only sound in the hallway. The occasional servant offers a passing nod or bow, but other than that, there is nothing. It’s suffocating. That is until Torin appears on my other side.

“By the Laei, try not to look like you’re going to a funeral,” he tuts, pushing my chin up with his thumb. “Though the black isn’t helping the atmosphere.”

“Father picked it out.”

“Of course, he did.”

“I gather you know what this is about as well?” Torin nods. “And I guess you won’t tell me either.”

“More like can’t tell you,” he amends, linking his arm through my spare one, “but don’t worry, you’ll find out soon enough.” We pause before two grand doors, mahogany inlaid with pure gold with carved ivory handles. Extravagant and showy. My companions let go of my arms, Blaine leaves first with a tight face. Torin stays an extra moment.

“Ready to go face the wolves?” I offer a weak smile, and he kisses the back of my hand before he gestures to the guard to announce my arrival. He takes a step back, bows, and then those two grand doors open.

Chapter3

Verosa

The table is already piled high with an exquisite array of meats and fruits. Multiple servants rush about to fill goblets with wine or to offer their services. It’s a perfect picture of regal elegance and gluttony.

The sounds of chairs scraping on the floor fills the room as our guest stands, while the head of the table remains seated. My gaze tracks to my father first, where he sits in his golden chair at the end of the table, his polished crown sparkling atop his head in the firelight. I curtsy and approach him first, offering a kiss on the cheek before I find my own seat.

“Verosa.” His voice is dry gravel on a dirt road. Thick and withered. “We have a guest tonight.” As if I couldn’t see that. I turn my gaze to the visitor to greet them, but my words die in my throat.

“It is a pleasure to make the acquaintance of such a renowned beauty.” The man with the hood from earlier smiles again, no less eerily than the first time. Now that he wears no hood, I can see how truly handsome he is. He has fair skin without a blemish in sight, along with inky black hair that is perfectly combed to the side of his head. He has the eyes of the Tesslari empire: slightly upturned and dark pools of an iris. His teeth shine unnaturally white as he smiles, and he has a fine physique.

Our delegate wears a deep emerald tunic with black pants and a matching elegant black coat so finely tailored it looks as if it is a second skin. Every inch of him oozes with glamour and confidence.

“Lucius.” He extends his hand. Mechanically, I give him mine, and he presses a soft kiss atop my glove.

“The pleasure is mine.” I say all to unconvincingly.

“Verosa.” My father flashes a warning glance at my curt tone.

“The pleasure is mine.” I repeat with a bit more warmth to my tone. No further pleasantries are exchanged nor does my father spare me a second glance.

I take note that there is no one else in the enormous dining hall, and the far expanse of the table sits empty except for our end. Ophelus, my father, motions for Lucius to sit, and calls for the dinner to begin.

My plate remains relatively untouched as I study the man across from me. The servants seem on edge, just as everyone else in this palace has been all day, but nonetheless, he flashes that stunning smile and thanks them personally every time they attend to him. He eats with his left hand and cuts his food with the utmost precision. He is clearly skilled with other forms of blades. He discusses casual politics with my father, mainly regarding the longstanding alliance between Krycolis and Tesslari. Then there is the casual mention of Irene.

“Father, forgive me, but may I ask the nature of this dinner?” I interrupt.

A maid drops a tray, causing meats and wine to spill across the cold marble floor. She apologizes profusely while Ophelus clears his throat. His stony gaze captures mine. The deep worry lines that crease his features seemingly more prominent in this light.

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