Author's Note: Sorry this took so long to update! A lot has changed. Also, I purposely changed the story from past tense to present (from this chapter onwards). And thank you so much to everyone who commented on and messaged me about my last piece! I hope you enjoy this one!
--Lamb
Chapter 2
Ellora
Nobles and officials line the walls of the throne room. They chat amongst themselves in hushed tones, nervous but excited for the king's arrival. I watch as Queen Merissa scans the crowd with half-lidded eyes. My place is directly beside her ornate chair, on the right side, and I stand with my head low, as a prized pet is still a pet. No matter how many years pass, my cheeks never fail to grow warm in front of the familiar crowd. I tug at the hem of my dress. Everyone knows of my relationship with the queen. They know what we do. Our relationship is private but not secret. Plenty of noblemen have been bold enough to ask my mistress for my services, but she always denies their proposals. Still, their glances are lingering.
"Is it uncomfortable?" my queen asks suddenly.
I turn to her with wide eyes. "What do you mean, mistress?"
Her gaze drops to my throat, her lips pressed into a thin line, and I realize I have been absentmindedly caressing my collar.
"No, mistress," I tell her. "I simply like the way it feels."
The corners of her mouth curve up as she turns to face the crowd again.
Movement to my right catches my attention, and I turn to investigate. Kiero, a dear friend, steps onto the raised platform and kneels before Merissa. His shirt and pants are white with golden accents, and he wears a short white cape over his shoulders. His clothing informs others of his position: a high-ranking attendant. The son of a modest lord. He could also be called a professional queen wrangler. It is Kiero's job to make sure Merissa is where she needs to be when she needs to be there. He also ensures all events go off without any setbacks. Merissa waves her hand at him. Permission to speak.
"Your guests have arrived, Your Majesty," he says in a clear voice.
A hush falls over the room and people move to stand in organized groups. Women turn to each other, asking how their outfits look. The men stand taller. Kiero slips away but not before shooting me a smile and offering a tiny wave of his hand. I return his gestures.
My mistress rises from her seat and clasps her hands together. Two attendants take this as their cue to open the giant doors that connect the throne room to the entrance hall. A representative dressed in pale purple hurries through the doors. Queen Merissa's lower servants wear uniforms of dusty red, so it's obvious this man is part of the king's entourage. He makes his way to the center of the room, keeping a respectful distance between himself and the throne, and bows deeply with his left hand placed over his chest. My fingers twist each other behind my back. My blood rushes through my veins.
"I greet you and your subjects humbly, Merissa, Queen of Aruven. Allow me to present King Selvin of Terulia," the attendant announces. An extensive explanation is unnecessary. Everyone knows who is about to walk through those doors.
The representative steps aside, his head kept low. Eight guards march through the doorway to line the path for their king. They carry their achievements as colorful ribbons on their chests, and the two at the front of the group hold spears. The men spread out along the golden carpet with four on each side and wait for their commander. A low murmur rises among the crowd, but it quiets when the main event appears in the doorway.
King Selvin's violet robes brush the carpet as he takes his measured steps down the aisle. Dark hair, deep blue eyes, and a pretty face cause a few ladies to fan themselves. There's a gentle smile on his face, and I'm able to breathe a bit easier. Although the stories about him are positive, I can't help but worry about getting along with the king. A strained relationship between us could hurt my relationship with my mistress. And that is my darkest nightmare. I steal a glance at Merissa and find an indecipherable glint in her eye.
One bodyguard of high rank follows close behind the king. The Draveian. Merissa's words from our bath earlier echo in my head, and I shift my weight from one leg to the other. He stands a head taller than his master. Golden eyes survey the room with animalistic intensity. The hilt of a giant sword peeks over his shoulder--a silent threat to those who may oppose him--but it's his masculine confidence that makes him intimidating. A few people step back when he passes in front of them, and this only seems to fuel his pride. He presses his shoulders back, a tiny smirk spreading across his face as the men stop in front of the throne.
"The kingdom of Aruven welcomes you, Your Highness," Queen Merissa says with a polite smile, her voice ringing through the hall. A murmur of agreement comes from the crowd.
"Please accept my sincerest gratitude. I look forward to our time together," the king responds, that soft smile not wavering in the slightest.
Merissa glances toward the open arches leading to the gardens. "The day is beautiful. Shall we step outside for a short walk? Your retinue will be attended to."
The king agrees, and our little group of four heads for the closest arch. As my mistress passes by a servant, she leans in close and whispers into his ear. He trots away after bowing twice. Part of me wants to ask what is happening, but another part makes me fold my hands and lower my gaze. If it is important, I shall find out soon.
Fifteen minutes later and the fresh air of the gardens isn't helping me breathe easier as the Draveian's eyes bore into me. My mistress converses with her betrothed a few paces ahead while the Draveian remains close by my side. He is meant to stay close to the king in order to protect him, but every time I glance up at him, I find his startlingly golden eyes on me. He doesn't look away when caught staring like the men who play coy. No, his gaze remains unabashed.
I watch as his eyes rake over my body, lingering for a minute when they pass over my breasts. Heat fills my core, flooding into my limbs, and I'm forced to turn away as he continues to examine me. Such a brazen attitude is new to me. My mistress is bold, but queens are allowed to be bold. The Draveian's boldness stems from a different source. A deep, primal source. I blush, imagining the things he must have done to any pretty maids in King Selvin's palace.