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I mean it. For tonight’s occasion, she braided her silky black locks with straw, holding it up with a broach shaped like a corn doll. Stunning as ever, Adelaid stands out as the comeliest in a sea of similar faces.
For now, I have little interest in anyone who isn't Helyn Stovrj.
“Dance for your king, sweetling.”
She beams, taking the sobriquet as a sign of affection. I don’t feel much for the girl, but I let her assume otherwise.
Adelaid Gyrth is the granddaughter of an earl of Flaur, and boasts a rich coldblood father. As well as having a suitable lineage, she also happens to be the most desirable lady in my court, which has allowed her to think she and I might have more than the occasional tumble. She might be right. When my mind turns to the matter of heirs and succession, her name will be somewhere around the top of my list of potential partners.
She’s also ruthless and petty, but such attributes don’t concern me.
Adelaid is only halfway down to the dance floor when my gaze lifts of its own volition, and falls on her.
My fingers find the armrest and dig into the hard stone. The slow rhythm of my heartbeat all but stops as the rest of the crowd disappears.
How dare she, I want to scream. Demand an explanation, an apology.
The more accurate question ought to be how could she, Helyn Stovrj, common worm of the streets of Magnapolis, stand above my court.
I take her appearance for what it is: an affront.
Helyn’s breezy gown flows, fluid, the translucent muslin caressing her skin at every step. The shape of her leg is discernible through the almost see-through black fabric pooling at her feet, though at her thighs, a layer of green velvet obscures the view, highlighting the shape of her hips. It gathers at her slim waist and crosses over her breasts, mingled with streaks of silver.
As she approaches, I note that the velvet’s studded with green sapphires and the silver at her neckline is shaped like a raven in flight.
She’s wearing the colors of Ravelyn, as if she belongs here. A queen wouldn’t have looked prouder of her kingdom than this presumptuous, disrespectful wench.
The worst is her hair. What in the name of the shade has she done to her hair? Instead of flying all over the place, aimless and chaotic, it falls in soft, defined burnished copper curls.
Straining to contain my ire, I suck in a steadying breath before she reaches the dais, only then noticing that all move to let her pass.
I could lie to myself and say they’re giving way to my regent, who walks five feet behind her, his new wife’s hand in his, but I know better. My court is parting for her.
Her!
No one dances, or drink, or talks, staring at the common girl in her silly costume, and at me. They’re watching my reaction like vultures circling in search of a weakness. I have to contain my desire to cross the space between us and wrap my hands around her pretty neck. I am king, and I will not let anyone see her get under my skin.
Helyn reaches the step of the dais and has the audacity to walk up, one step, then another, and the next.
She stops to look over me, as if I were beneath her, as if she is the one in charge here. “Well, you summoned. Here I am.”
I’m going to delight in her fall from this imaginary grace she claims.
“Here you are.” I let a slow smile spread over my face as I stand. '“My court, Lady Helyn, heir to the duke of Elandheart.” I don’t need to raise my voice in the stunned silence.
I magnanimously extend my hand, gesturing for her to take it. She hesitates, but lifts hers to mine.
I barely touch her fingertips, but their warmth doesn’t escape me.
“Now, some of you may wonder whether a girl born in the gutter of a polluted mainland city could one day rule one of our strongest territories,” I continue evenly. “I too have formed such a concern.”
Helyn has the audacity to grasp my palm in warning, her fist tight over mine.
My grin broadens. “Lords and ladies, gentlemen and artists, friends and foes, saints…” I look over at Helyn. “And whores.”
Hatred shines in her eyes, so intense it’s palpable.
The gods were wise not to bless such a spirit with magik. With a will like hers, she could have toppled kingdoms.
