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The steward stepped to the side and bowed his head down. “After you, my lady.”
Aria
The room shined to an immaculate sheen. The floor was covered in a large hand-woven rug that spa
Two massive chandeliers hung over the incredible long length of the table. Her surveying stopped as she saw who sat at the end of that table.
“Are you quite ready now?” Alrik asked in a low voice.
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“Sit down,” he demanded.
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“I meant...in a chair.”
Flushing with embarrassment, she started for a chair. She had to slow her steps though because she was practically ru
Aria
Suddenly a big, surprisingly warm hand enveloped hers. Her eyes popped open to see his hand touching hers. With a quick pull, he scooted the chair out then sat back in his.
Aria
From the corner of her eyes she watched him. He slouched back in his big throne-like chair, one elbow propped up on the arm with his square chin resting on his fist, eyes watching her with keen interest. His legs were kicked out before him, one knee bent more than the other. He wore black again, not a surprise there. A black jacket with black pants and black leather boots that came up to his knees. Unusual attire for royalty, but not for him.
The silence drew on until she couldn't handle it any longer. “Your highness, I apologize for being late.” She winced as her words held a biting edge to it. She could already see her fate flashing before her eyes—she'd end up like that prisoner she saw the other night, begging for her life after being wrongfully imprisoned.
“You already said that.” His deep voice traveled over the room in a low pitch like a wave. He moved and the candlelight from the chandelier glinted off the metal loop in his lip and eyebrow.
She nodded, clamping her lips shut.
“I...I was under the impression we'd be dining in the banquet hall,” she said quietly, her eyes now studying the design of the empty flute glass next to her plate.
“I wanted us to be alone.”
She swallowed over her raw throat, her hands twined together like she was trying to peel her skin off. “Why?” she whispered.
A soft bell chimed and then a much smaller door than the one she'd entered opened as half a dozen servants came in with trays of food. Aria
“Eat,” he ordered.
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“Your highness—”
“Alrik. You will call me Alrik when we're together.”
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“Alrik, may I ask why you wanted me to dine with you?”
She held her breath as she waited for him to answer. Eventually though she had to take a breath or she'd die right there sitting next to the king. She told herself not to look, but her curiosity got the better of her, and soon her eyes trailed over the fine table cloth, up his broad chest, and to his eyes.
He watched her.
“I've decided on something that involves you.”
Aria
When he said nothing more she made herself chew the tasteless salad and drink her wine, at least that wasn't a hardship. She downed her glass without any thought to being polite and taking delicate sips as she should. When the bell chimed again, the servants came out to refill their drinks, remove her half-eaten salad and his untouched one, and serve steaming cuts of meat, potatoes, and vegetables from a golden platter.
As a servant stood between her and the king, Aria
Aria
She kept her head turned away as she coughed—hard, loud. A few tears slid down her face as her head felt like extra air got squeezed inside her skull and lungs. After a good eight, choking coughs, the tickle finally stopped. Gasping, she looked over at the king. Of course he watched her. He probably invited her here tonight to get some kind of secret pleasure over her embarrassment.
“You should drink more slowly.”
A fierce blush blazed across her cheeks. “What is this that involves me?” she said in a hoarse voice.
He finally lifted his head off his chin, only to drum it on the arm rest. Dum, dum, dum, dum.
“Eat,” he ordered.
Aria