With that, he pulls back and drops a chaste kiss on the back of my gloved hand.
And I am left standing between the thick marble columns, feeling as though he stripped me bare. My heart thuds loud in my ears, my skin still tingling where his breath had brushed it. I feel undone, as if he has reached inside me and shifted something I did not know was there.
I am flushed, breathless, and strangely light-headed. A hot,shameful awareness coils low in my stomach, making me want to both shrink into the shadows and run after him.
What is happening to me?
“There you are!” An excited shriek pulls me out of my trance.
Aileen appears next to me, alongside a young lady whom I recognize from the ceremony.
“Aileen, it is good to see you,” I stammer. My mouth feels too dry to speak.
“Are you quite alright, my Queen?” Aileen asks with a concerned tone to her voice, taking my arm and guiding me toward some chairs at the back of the room.
“Yes, of course, just feeling parched after all the dancing,” I say with an unnatural smile on my face.
“Sit down, m’lady, I will arrange for a drink,” the other woman interjects.
As soon as she is out of earshot, Aileen turns to me.
“Oh devil’s mercy, did I see the King speaking with you just now? What did he say? Was he kind to you? I heard he is quite the conversationalist,” she babbles on.
I like the way she talks. Her voice has a slight rasp to it, and it habitually curls upward at the end of her sentences. It makes her sound…hopeful, as if any second something wonderful might happen.
“Yes, we took a few steps together. He was kind and rather…charming,” I lie. He had been more than that. But Aileen is still a stranger, and I am not inclined to confide in her so quickly.
“Charming, huh? He is very handsome, if you don’t mind me saying so,” Aileen giggles.
“That he is, but I fear I am feeling a little uncertain about how to talk to him. He speaks his mind freely, but after all, heis the King, so why shouldn’t he?” I answer truthfully.
Aileen bites her lip, her brows drawing together in thought.
“I would think that the King wants his wife to be authentic in private conversations. There are enough people telling him what he wants to hear, I assume.”
I nod and look over to where Charles is standing, talking to his adviser, Aynhard. The latter seems displeased with something, but Charles is laughing, so whatever has Aynhard upset, doesn’t seem to bother the King. With a slap to his back, Charles sends his adviser on his way and turns toward me again. The moment he sees me watching, he raises an eyebrow and smirks.
Devil’s mercy, why do I have to be so obvious? Gawking at him like the lovesick girl that I am.
Aileen chatters on as she settles beside me, smoothing her skirts, her voice a steady stream. I nod in the appropriate places, though my thoughts are still elsewhere.
“…and truly, the musicians are better tonight than they were at the spring feast—oh!” She leans closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Did you notice Lord Aynhard earlier? He looked positively sour, didn’t he?”
My attention sharpens at once. “I did,” I say carefully. “I have heard of him.”
Aileen’s brows lift. “Of course you have. Everyone has.” She glances toward the far side of the hall, where Aynhard stood not long ago. “He has been at the King’s side for years. Since before …” She trails off, lips pressing together.
“Before Queen Hilde,” I finish.
“Yes,” Aileen says softly. “Before her.”
I slowly turn the ring on my finger. “My father warned me about Lord Aynhard,” I admit. “He said I should be…wary.”
Aileen nods. “That sounds like good counsel.”
“Because of Queen Hilde?” I ask.
“In part. His family was close with hers. Very close. They were…fond of one another.”
