“Oh.”
The twinkle in his eyes returns in earnest, looking every bit as mischievous as I remember.
He pushes past boundaries I should be upholding, leaning in until his lips brush against my ear. Shivers cascade down the side of my neck as he whispers, “Though I’d argue the beauty standing before me is significantly more than anything outside that window.”
I pull in a sharp breath when his lips caress the sensitive skin on my ear as he straightens. His eyes flick to mine before he feigns interest in the world past the pane of glass.
“If I could show you around the room, ma’am,” Lanska says.
I turn to follow when the door to the suite opens, and Drusilla enters. Her gray eyes dart around the room as her expression brightens—easily the most endearing I have yet to witness from her.
“The Queen requests your presence at tea, ma’am,” Lanska says.
I raise my brows, then look to Varic.
“Do you mean the Queen will be hosting the Emperor, and I will be joining at his behest?” I ask.
“No, ma’am. The Queen requires you alone,” Lanska explains. “With your Imperial Guards, of course.” She bows her head, then gestures to the bathing chamber as part of the tour.
I stride ahead with discomfort unfurling inside my stomach, instinctively seeking Drusilla to gauge her reaction, though her expression remains suspiciously neutral.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Presence
Imperial black is too severe for the vibrancy of this land, with this dress more befitting their mourning practices than having tea with Her Royal Highness. The silver-framed, floor-length mirror reflects the quaking in my limbs with the wish to tear the fabric from clinging to my skin everywhere, aside from the plunging neckline and the window in the back.
My freshly washed hair tickles as it swings over the exposed skin, having been set in a rare style allowing my loose waves to fall free rather than being pinned to the top of my head, aside from the few strands Drusilla secured in the back with a gold barrette in the shape of our sigil.
The door clicks shut behind my attendant as she leaves us, and I spin to where Varic stares at me. Heat spreads up and across my chest, which is fully visible in the cut of this dress.
The high-heeled shoes clip over the light stone floor as I practice my gait to make it seem as if I glide through the suite, needing to make a show of being capable of walking in footwear I am so seldom dressed in.
“Drusilla said to have you put this on, then remove it for dinner,” Fray says, helping me into a thin black stole which he secures over my shoulders.
Unease brews in my stomach the closer we come to a meeting with the Queen, since I lack any kind of experience with a social call like this. Especially with the uncertainty of whether His Majesty knows about it, inducing a sense of fatigue so intense I could fall asleep standing.
“Do we think His Majesty is aware I am going to tea with the Queen?” My voice comes out more fraught than intended, and my Guards all soften with the sound of it.
“He will send word when he requires you,” Varic says.
Lars rubs my arm with his knuckles. “Try to relax and enjoy some time away from him.”
Varic scoffs, apparently recognizing that Lars’ recommendation is as impossible as I do. However, he did attempt to be supportive, so I look into his ocean-blue eyes and challenge him, “But he has yet to send word or issue any commands. Which is not entirely unheard of, though it is rare.”
The edges of Lars’ eyes crinkle before he opens his mouth to respond.
“Someone is approaching,” Malin says.
Lars releases a breath and steps away while we wait until a muffled knock sounds at the door. Malin answers it with his magic to reveal Lanska’s smiling face at the threshold.
“Good afternoon, ma’am.” She dips down into a curtsy before rising to gesture toward the Queen’s quarters. “If you will follow me.”
We do as she says and exit the suite two-by-two with Varic to my left. An Annovian guard bows to me once we make it out into the corridor, before returning to his post by my suite door.
I teeter on my feet and spare some magic to collect the tendrils of anxiety winding their way through my abdomen, replacing each one with the thrill I felt studying the landscape—not expecting the memory to elicit a heady mix of emotions brought on by the sorcerer who cannot stop peering over at me.
Mechanical whirring grinds behind the plaster as the giant white doors slide open to disappear in a seamless pocket in the wall, making it seem as if they were never there to begin with. Annovian guards bracket the entrance as we walk past, and the tiny hairs rise along the back of my neck when the same grinding sounds until the enormous doors slam shut behind us.
