His eyes grow wide, and his smile dims. I look up at him through the loose curly strands of my hair and smile.
There are a few gasps at the display of my magic, but everyone seems to think it’s some sort of party trick. They murmur in the rows, almost excited.
They have no idea what maelstrom of rock and crystal lurks in the dark, ready to swallow them into the earth.
“Stop that,” a warrior grumbles behind me. Another comes up and points a spear at my throat.
I listen only because of the women who will be waiting outside, primed for escape. The magic doesn’t leave me, it merely reverberates under my skin—out of sight.
The panic amongst the guests wanes, and they begin to stand and file out, starting with Lord Fektir’s row first. One of the guards steps forward and unchainsme. The other women are left there, but I am taken out one of the side doors with barely enough time to look down at the singed velvet fabric from where I was seated moments before. The other women look at me with wide eyes.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask, twisting back to look up at the giant.
“High King Rholker wants you to sit with him at the feast,” he grunts.
Unease swirls in my insides as the sounds of the highest lords and ladies in the land make their way to the feast. I wonder what Aska will think of my attendance—surely Lord Fektir will be furious.
“Will the other… gifts to his majesty be taken?” I ask, thinking of the elvish women, the ogre, and the other humans.
He doesn’t respond, clearly not feeling the need to stoop to my level with a response.
The smell of meat and spirits hits my nose as we enter a side room. We pause for a few moments, waiting for a sign before we are led through another servant’s passageway that spits us out into the great hall. I immediately spot the opulent table arranged in the center of the room. Rholker sits there with Aska Fektir at his side. The new giant queen.
Colors of every hue swirl before me. It’s almost hard to take in all the richly dyed stripes and intricate patterns. The sparkle of gems threatens to blind me in a room already illuminated by floating candles and torches.
More music plays from a group of ogres positioned at the back corner of the room. After seeing their king, I don’t feel like they are friends.
I’ve seen more of them in the last few weeks than in my entire life, but even I have to admit that their harpists, flutists, drummers, and lyrists play in perfect harmony.
It’s not Enduvida, but it’s pleasant. Especially for thosemaking their way to the long, wooden feasting tables. A woman is at the front, singing in old ogrese. It’s… beautiful.
However, the space left for dancing is still, unsurprisingly, empty.
The giant waits for a pair of male elves from Arion’s court to pass, and then we walk up to the throne. A roar of voices still chatters on, but I can feel eyes on me.
The frilly costume I’ve been given moves against my body with each step. The stiff skirt rubs my hips and the diamonds on the breast band chafe my underarms, as if the energy of this awful ensemble wasn’t bad enough.
Sweat collects on my forehead and back, and I hope it causes the glittery powder to slide off my skin and make me a little less appealing.
“Come now, pretty slut. Show me a smile!” one of the giant lords calls as I pass, seconds before he reaches out to grab my ass.
On reflex, I yank on the lyre string of my magical reserve and light bursts out of me. I turn to hiss a curse upon the giant’s head, but he cries out and holds up an injured hand. The flesh bubbles on his palm from the burn, and he slinks back, running from the room.
“Your Majesty,” the warrior holding my chain says. He eyes me with palpable disgust. He knows I’m dangerous.
Good.
Rholker’s nostrils flare before he looks back at us. At me. His yellow eyes meet mine, and his pupils dilate.
“Ah, yes. Give her to me,” he says casually as he reaches out for the chain.
The warrior draws the links closer to his chest. “My king, I?—“
Rholker raises a brow.
“Has she been causing trouble?”
The man glances to either side. “I think she’s using her magic.”
