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I mean every single word.
Ravelyn cannot afford to have someone like Helyn holding one of its three decisive seats. Making the court see her as nothing but a long pair of legs and heavy tits is for the good of the kingdom.
I’ve failed so far. Her performance in the labyrinth achieved the opposite outcome.
That said, I'm not torturing her solely because of politics.
I'm punishing Helyn Stovrj because nothing has given me greater pleasure, as far back as I can remember.
I wanted to play with her before I even saw her, from the first moment back in the duke’s garden.
And from the sheer, defiant loathing in her eyes, I'd bet my crown she suspects as much.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
FOLKS AND FOES
I've never worn anything as uncomfortable as this vulgar excuse for a dress. I cannot sit. I cannot shift one way or another, for fear of flashing my nipples to half the court. I certainly can't even dream of bending down to grab any of the refreshments presented on low coffee tables throughout the glass atrium.
Zale takes me for a stroll around the garden, ensuring I'm displayed before the wandering eyes of all his court.
I'm still reeling from his words, his accusations, partially because they're true and I can’t deny they don’t cast a flattering light on me.
I didn't bother to get to know the realm I'm now a part of. Why would I? I'll forever see myself as a child of Magnapolis, no matter what land my mother's husband rules.
But also reeling, because he's just using them as an excuse, a shield. Zalewaslying. He's torturing me because he loves it.
“Helyn, I don’t believe you’ve met Sir Woodhouse.”
Careful to never touch so much as an inch of my skin, keeping his fingers on the pearls covering my lower back, the king leads me to a man who looks around his age. Black haired, particularly handsome, he has acutely pretty features, almost effeminate. His pale skin distinguishes him as a coldblood, but the shape of his pupils, slanted like a cat’s, make me think he may have folk blood mingled with it.
“Dayn is a knight of Elandheart. He’s served the Rhodes family since the day of the duke’s grandfather, isn’t that right?”
The man’s feline eyes remain locked on mine, not realizing that the king addressed him.
My jaw ticks. I know what Zale’s doing. This specific knight will forever remember me as the barely dressed doll paraded here.
“Sir Woodhouse?”
With a start, he turns back to the king and clears his throat. “Apologies. Your Grace?”
“You’ve served house Rhodes for some time?”
“Three hundred years, Your Grace,” he says proudly. “I am now a member of the duke’s guard, though I am on leave.”
“Helyn is the duke’s stepdaughter. Perhaps you could tell her a little of the south she’s never seen.”
“With pleasure. The southern isle is much colder than the northern one, Lady Helyn, but it’s also greener. Our forest extends for over a thousand miles, and the array of fauna would surprise you. It has been a refuge for the folk long before it ever became a prison for the mainland.”
All of this is new to me, and I feel like the ignorant ingrate Zale accused me of being.Doubtless that was his aim.
“Over the last age, the folk and the coldbloods have lived in harmony, under the rule of house Rhodes and house Celian.”
I don’t think I’ve heard the second name. I’m itching to find the closest library, hating nothing more than ignorance.
“Do you like it there, Sir Woodhouse?” I ask politely.
“Very much. I was chosen as a squire to the duke’s grandfather when I was as young as you, and in time, rose to knighthood. Merits are lauded as much as birth in the south,” he adds with a pointed look around us.
