The snow had melted away, making way for the rising flowers of spring. The Rising Jewels, the beautiful mountains that had always enchanted the locals, were displaying their spring colors. Many couples preferred to marry in this time. Because of that, there was a greater variety of flowers on sale than there would be during the summer. Temples that represented the God of Marriage were sprucing up their exteriors and hiking up their prices.
Rosanda was trying to figure out if she should go the Fertility Ball or remain in her townhouse. She had already ordered and received a new ballgown. Actually wearing it was another matter.
She let her thoughts scuffle about in her mind for a long time, and then she yielded. She was going.
On the day of the ball, Rosanda decided to wear her pale green shoes that the king had given her, because she desperately wanted to wear the pearl necklace that came from the prince, and she felt guilty choosing one accessory and not the other. She had shown the shoes to a seamstress so she could find a matching fabric to construct the gown with.
The pale green gown had thick festoons of red-purple ribbons pinned about the over-skirt. False white daisies, made of silk, were pinned in clusters on the ribbons, between each festoon. Her neckline was wide, showing off not only the tops of her shoulders, but also a small portion of her small but gently curved bosom. The sleeves were fitted and covered her elbows, with layers of white lace flaring out like thin bells. Red-purple bow-knots were arranged over her stomacher in a tight row.
Her pearl necklace was looped around her neck a few times to keep it from catching on her dress. Her ears had the smallest little gold earrings, inherited from her late mother. While her fingers were clean and soft, they had no rings. There were no ornaments in her simple coiffure. She simply invested in a golden chain attached near her spectacles' hinges, so that if they fell off her head, they would be hanging against her collarbone like her necklace.
As she rode on to Penthorn Palace, she fidgeted with her outfit. Sometimes, she tugged on the chain on her glasses. Other times, she pressed some pearls between her fingertips. There was a closed metal tin of hot coals under her feet, keeping her body warm, and her feet often tapped onto the tin, making a harsh sound. The cloak around her body was soon pinched and crumpled in her fists.
She knew that she'd end up spending the night at the palace, as many of the guests would. It would be rude of the royal family not to offer their home for the weary guests who had a long ride home waiting on them. Rosanda had packed up two bags of supplies and clothing with this fact in mind.
If it wasn't getting so dark, she would have read a book to distract her mind. She was trying to figure out how to refuse the king's proposition without angering him. The king did seem like a mostly decent human being. Rosanda couldn't hate the man. She imagined that any woman would dive into the chance of being connected to him. He was a handsome man with a great deal of resources that he apparently was willing to share.
It didn't feel right to her, though.
Kutberth I wasn't going to be pleased.
When she arrived at Penthorn Palace, she saw that the whole building was alight with celebratory paper lamps. Two servants took her bags for her. She thanked them and pulled her cloak even tighter about her throat as she gingerly clicked her heels onto the glittery pathway to the main entrance. She showed a doorman her invitation. Then she was led through a foyer, down a hallway, and to an immense ballroom full of colorful guests.
The music was jolly and enlivening. There was gold, marble, and silver colors all around the room. The high ceiling seemed to be divided in equal squares panels, each one elaborately painted with geometric designs and holding a chandelier of sparkling crystal.
Floor lamps, essentially tall candelabras, were near the walls. There were a few white fireplaces, unlit, but still elegant. There were also large paintings, mostly portraits, hanging high and just out of anyone's reach. On one side, there was a large band of musicians and a table loaded with food. On the other, there were seats and benches, and open doorways leading to porches.
Most of the guests were either dancing or eating while standing. Some were seated, waiting for a turn to dance. The great amount of people, and the various lit candles, put a great bit of heat in the room. Rosanda fanned herself with a white lace hand fan and shuffled around the perimeter of the dancing floor. Then she seated herself on a single stool that had a very soft cushion.
Immediately, men started asking her for a dance. She wasn't offended, and she barely had any surprise. She knew she was considered to be quite pretty, in a curious and startling way, but still pretty. Out of civility, she danced with them. It was actually pretty fun. The popular dances were very similar to what she was used to. Whatever she didn't understand could easily be guessed or faked.
After three sets, she found a moment of peace and used it to walk to the table of food. She slurped down a few oysters, and then she took a sip of water. A sturdy cracker with spicy meat paste spread over it was delicately balanced on her fingers when she heard a familiar man's voice. Rosanda almost dropped the cracker, but she caught it without causing a nasty mess.
She looked up at the man. It was Kutberth I. At first, she had thought it was Kutberth II, but his paler skin and his slightly graying hair gave his identity away. She liked his formal coat. It was a pale blue color with a subtle dotted pattern that gave it a little sheen. Mirror images of the God of Hope was embroidered on the left and right of the opening at his front.
"It's good to see you, Miss Lunai," the king said with a calm smile and lazy eyes. His cheek were a little flushed. "I hope you would celebrate this occasion by dancing with me." She tried to curtsy, but he shook his head. "Don't bother with formality. You might stain your clothing."
"Your Highness," Rosanda said, smiling and hoping to get the worst part over with. "I wanted to give you an answer to your generous proposal."
He reached over and patted her free hand. "Don't fret over stressful decisions right now. Wait until the ball is over." He grinned at her in such a way that made her knees quiver under her gown. "Now eat your little snack and join me on the dance floor at the next set."
Rosanda sighed and put her cracker into her mouth. When she was done eating, she took the king's expectant arm and waited with him for the next set.
People were staring at her. She didn't need to see their questioning faces to know about them. She was dancing with the king himself. It wasn't considered to be scandalous. The queen had been dancing with several men. Still, whenever the king danced with someone, that someone automatically became interesting. Rosanda didn't know how she was supposed to feel about it.
It wasn't a bad experience. Dancing with such a graceful, enchanting man had its perks. Rosanda didn't want to enjoy looking up at his self-assured expression, his soft yet clever lips, sharp cheeks. His hand was strong against hers. His other hand stole quick touches of her arm or back.
And when it was finished, Rosanda's cheeks were pink. Her breath was like sandpaper. Her pussy was vibrating like a nail under a hammer, and she loved it. She would have gone back to a seat, but the king claimed her arm and said, "Dance with me again."
Rosanda didn't think she could refuse.
They danced through another set while Rosanda's thighs were moistened by her desire. The way he looked at her, with those enlightened hazel eyes, seemed to suggest that he knew she was excited. He even licked his lips a few times. Close to the end, her glasses fell off. She was thankful for the chain.
She slid her glasses back onto her face as she stepped away from the king, trying to suppress her elation. The king nodded to her and bowed. Then he said he had other guests to dance with, and he left her alone.
Rosanda took a sip of water. Then she made her way to one of the porches outside. There weren't any other guests on the porch she chose. The roof was supported by columns and fences that were partially obscured by thick vines. She peeked through one of the openings between the vines, and saw that while she could see the other porches, she couldn't quite see if any people were on them.
Someone tapped her shoulder. She was startled enough to yelp and turn about. Under the outdoor lights, she thought it was the king, but it wasn't. He was wearing a different coat. It was black with silver and white embroidery in geometric shapes. He didn't have the gray hair, and his skin seemed darker.
Rosanda wanted to say the name Alex, but she was afraid that he might have changed his mind about that. She gave a greeting and a curtsy. Then she laced her fingers together and moved them to her bosom. Her eyes went to his strong chin, then his mouth.
"Miss Lunai, when I heard you were invited to this ball, I must admit that I was excited."
Again, she wanted to say the name Alex. Her breath was hurting again.
He wasn't smiling, exactly, but there was something in his lips, something hot and needy. As strange as it was, even his teeth inflamed her skin as he spoke. "Did you know that you're allowed to retire to your guest room early?"
"I'm sorry?"
He went on, leaning towards her. He was close enough for a kiss. Rosanda wasn't being kissed at all, but his warmth was teasing her in such a way that she almost thought there was a caress.
