“Who was I to ignore an invitation from the King of Goreon?” I say to Del, trying to keep the salt out of my tone.
With the manners of a perfect gentleman, he gestures for me to walk beside him, and I do.
“Of course, no one denies King Nerian,” he says. I glance up at Del, his thick lips turned upward in a playful smile.
“Ah! And that’s my favorite painting!” Nerian calls, pointing high above at the mural staining the ceiling near the entrance.
Unsurprisingly, it’s a depiction of war.
“It’s lovely,” Charlotte replies, following Nerian into the antechamber.
I refocus on Del, working to keep my stride long enough under the weight of my layered, black silk gown. “I won’t be quick to accept anything beyond his invitation, I assure you.”
His beautiful eyes flare. “Careful, Queen Veya. People around here might think you have a sharp mind and your successes haven’t been all luck.”
Is that the rumor? That I’ve beenlucky?
I hum at him and face forward, picking up the front of my dress to relieve some of the friction slowing me down.
Del shortens his stride in response, and I try to ignore the warmth in my chest from the small gesture.
We accompany the king to the dining room,surroundedby guards, and they spill through open gilded doors. But I can’t imagine Nerian is really that threatened by us. Which means it’s intimidation he’s after.
General Balor cuts me off, stalking into the dining room first.
I glare at his back, and Del’s fists clench beside me as we filter in behind Balor.
Interesting. Del and I already have something in common.
Two marble fireplaces twice my height roar on opposing sides of the flickering dining room, and candelabras line the walls, the bleed of light dancing about. It’s romantic, designed and set for an intimate gathering. A draft brushes against my skin, and I wonder where the hidden doorways in this room might be. There’s never just one exit in a space frequented by royals.
Gold and onyx servingware dot the cream-covered table, and a line of fire burning in oil threads the center.Several place settings decorate the two sides of the table, but there’s onlyonesetting at the head. The other end is empty.
I pause as I watch King Nerian settle into his head seat.
A queen doesnotsit at the side of the table.
My gown gleams in the firelight, and I let my expression darken and my eyes flare red.
Del walks past me and pulls out the chair opposite the king.
My gaze runs up Del’s finely tailored suit, hugging his muscular form in all the right places. Yet the intensity of hisappearance is nothing compared to the penetrating look locked on my face, and his lips purse as he waits for me to take the seat he’s boldly offering.
I step confidently toward him, and King Nerian glances up as I lower myself into the plush chair, his red eyes narrowing and jaw ticking from the other end of the table. I meet his gaze as we stare each other down across the licking flame between us, our companions hesitant at the fringes of the dining room.
Del leans over me, his cologne whispering like a hushed secret in the air, stealing my attention. He transfers the three empty tasting goblets from the place setting on my left, his strong hands arranging them before me.
“An oversight,” Del says, blazing plum eyes finding mine again as my chin tips up to look at him.
“Was it?” the king barks, and I wonder why Nerian even has a second—he seems to barely tolerate Del.
I swivel my attention to the king. “Surely one of the demands I’ll be making,” I say with a pleasant smile uncomfortably adhered to my face.
Del clears his throat and sits to my right as the king tries to grin at me, but it comes out as nothing kinder than a sneer. And I almost laugh at how horribly he’s failing.
Second stomps around the table, fingers three glasses from another place setting, and sets them up on my left, replacing the ones Del moved. He plants himself on my other side, crosses his arms over his broad chest, and leans back with a huff.
Charlotte sighs dramatically, sitting herself next to Del, and Emmanuel pulls the chair next to Second across from her.
