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Fierce.
I would give him fierce.
* * *
Regan led me down endless passageways and stairwells that told me exactly how far I was being kept from the fearsome King. The guards lined the hallways, a silent sentry of black armor, heads covered in strange domed helmets. They all watched me with varying expressions of curiosity and disgust. A filthy Fae, in their castle. A female, who’d lain waste to their own. I suppressed a smirk.
“The King is greatly anticipating this meeting,” Regan said as he hurried along beside me. He seemed to have trouble keeping pace, sweat breaking out across his brow.
“Am I walking too fast, sir?” I asked him when he stopped and leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath.
“Madam, you do have a certain speed about you.” He gave a short laugh before inhaling deeply, straightening to continue down the stone corridor lined with brightly coloured stained-glass windows.
I stole a gaze outside, at the city that sprawled off into the distance, a mass of brown buildings that ended abruptly at the foot of lush green mountains. Beyond that, the very tips of the enormous mountain range that separated Veles from the southern Realm were visible, frosted in snow. So different to Peyrus, all the way in the icy north, the flatlands and dark forests I had grown up in.
We descended a grand sweeping staircase and crossed a hall in which hung flags and tapestries. The crests and emblems of the important families of Veles, those that had retained Theron’s favor at least. There were suddenly many more guards, armed with spears and dressed in armor of shiny Velesian steel, glinting black in the sunlight that poured in through the windows.
Theron was clearly afraid of me. What had those two assholes said when I woke? I had fought bravely? I wondered what other stories had circulated about me in the Velesian court that had Theron this spooked. The thought had me squaring my shoulders, even though my hands were still shaking.
Two enormous oak doors ended the passageway and two guards stepped forward to open them for Regan and me. I took a deep breath, clenching my back teeth to stop my jaw trembling.
I am not afraid. I am not afraid.
The throne room was draped with the red and black colors of the Velesian house, a carved ebony throne perched on a grand dais dominating the room. Courtiers stood to either side, dressed in varying shades of burgundy, red, and black. They all fell utterly silent as Regan led me into the room. I kept my gaze firmly ahead on the figure who sat in the ebony throne.
The figure adorned with the most towering golden wings I’d ever seen in my life.
Theron watched me with amusement as I approached, leaning casually to one side of his throne, chin resting in his hand. His fingers rubbed back and forth across his lips, his eyes looking me up and down. He was younger than I expected, surely no more than 25. A black crown sat atop hair the color of rust. His skin was a warm, rich gold, and made his green cat-like eyes even more startling.
He would certainly be thought of as handsome, his regal black velvet garb unable to disguise a strong physique. A sharp jawline jutted out over the high collar of his jacket. But his gaze was terrifying - cold and calculating, as though he was thinking of a million different ways in which he could either devour me or murder me.
I moved through the sea of red and black, feeling like a beacon amongst so much darkness. The Velesians were dressed in finery like none I had seen before - thick gold chains, black shimmering lace, heavy burgundy satins. And all this fuss to watch a simple Fae princess meet the King? It somehow made the scene even more unnerving.
Theron rose to his feet suddenly, and Regan dropped into a deep bow.
“Majesty,” he said, “I present to you, Princess Elara of Peyrus.”
I bowed my head, refusing to curtsey. Princesses didn’t fucking curtsey.
“Your Majesty,” I said, and a gasp rose from the crowd, Regan’s eyes widened as he gave me a side glance from his bowed position.
Theron laughed heartily. “You have shocked my courtiers already, Your Highness.”
“And how have I done that, Your Majesty?”
“By speaking before I spoke to you.” Theron replied.
“What a boring way to live.” I cocked an eyebrow haughtily. “I imagine starting every single conversation you have becomes tiresome after a while.”
Regan had gone a strange shade of purple, still bowed and staring at the floor. He made a strangled sound, and Theron seemed to become aware of his presence for the first time.
“Oh Regan,” he said with a wave of his hand, “do get up now.”
Regan straightened with an audible creak, making me wonder just how old he was. “I do apologize, Your Majesty, I didn’t brief Her Highness on Velesian etiquette.”
Theron rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. “I don’t think we need to worry about the manners of a Peyrusian Princess.” His gaze returned to me, and he grinned. “I’m sure Her Highness has excellent manners.” Even though that almost lecherous gaze made me deeply uncomfortable, I kept my face neutral, my eyes staying on his. He broke away first, taking in my figure with an upturn of his lips. “Do you like the dresses I sent up for you?”
“You seem to, Majesty.”
