Page 4 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
Chapter Two
Ihad seen the palace ballroom decorated for parties and celebrations before, but the sheer magnificence of its splendor never ceased to amaze me. And tonight was certainly no different, especially when I stepped over the threshold into the room and suddenly realized the theme of tonight’s decor.
Me.
“Well.” Rankor whistled. “This is really something.”
The limited candlelight bounced off the crystal chandeliers, sending tiny rainbows dancing across the room. Sparkling black and golden tapestries hung from the ceilings and the walls. Scarlet place mats and golden dishes sat atop black dinintroug tables. The Council all already sat at the table in the room’s front, under a scarlet banner portraying the Bident of Hyrax.
I shivered, feeling a growing itch everywhere my dress pressed upon my skin. The similarity between my gown and the decor was no coincidence. The Dragon wanted me to look every single bit like Hyrax’s chosen successor. And I didn’t quite know how I felt about that.
No, that wasn’t true. I knew how I felt about it.
“It’s a bit much for my taste.”
Rankor snorted. “That’s because if it were up to you, we’d be drinking in a tavern while you hand me my ass in cards and then demand to arm wrestle every man in the joint.”
I jammed my elbow into his ribs, but laughed.
“Ah, ladies and gentleman,” a booming male voice silenced the chatter of the room around us. “It seems our guest of honor has arrived.”
The Dragon beckoned for me to join him at the front of the ballroom and, with an encouraging squeeze from Rankor, I did so, curtsying low as I approached the king. He wore his finest attire, a golden jacket with diamond clasps in the shape of miniature dragons. His thick hair was well-combed but grayer than when I had first met him a year ago. As I met his dark eyes, he passed me a crystal glass of red wine.
“My darling,” he purred, a slimy smile spread wide across his face. “You do look lovely in red.”
I shivered involuntarily, and the Dragon chuckled. By the Gods, I swore making me uncomfortable was the man’s favorite pastime. He snaked an arm around my waist and pulled me to him, unbothered that his young wife sat only a few feet away from him, as he raised his glass of whiskey and began his toast.
“We have gathered here tonight to celebrate Lady Theodora Moore’s successful completion of the combat trial,” he announced, his voice smooth and commanding. “Already, we have seen that Lady Moore is a fine young scholar on her written trial, but today she has shown that she can be a fierce warrior as well.”
A polite murmur of approval rippled through the crowd, though some guests exchanged knowing glances over their goblets. I clenched my fingers around the stem of my wineglass, holding my expression neutral.
“This is, of course, no surprise to many of us,” the Dragon continued, his gaze sweeping the hall as if daring anyone to contradict him. “Lady Moore has already proven her courage, intelligence, and dedication to the Athenian people in battle on more than one occasion in the past year. These are times I do not look back on fondly, as no ruler can be proud of times when his own people turn on each other, but I am grateful that, by the graceof the Gods, justice has prevailed and our Lady Moore is more prepared than ever to step into her birth-given role in our government.”
I kept my posture still and poised, even as I fought the magic that roared wildly inside me.
The Dragon lifted his glass higher. “So please, raise your glasses in a toast of congratulations to Lady Moore and join me in wishing her luck in the trials that will come next: the final Council trial and her greatest trial yet—creating an advantageous marriage.”
The hall erupted with cheers and gossip. My name swirled through the air in hushed whispers, speculation weaving between the clinking of glasses. It was nothing new. The court had been whispering about me since the day I had arrived in Athenia a year ago, battered and confused, with no memory of the life I’d led before. But lately, their talk had shifted—from questioning my motives to predicting the details of my future wedding.
As if my life was nothing more than entertainment to them.
I took a careful sip of my wine, ignoring the flutter of uneasy butterflies in my stomach. All Council members had arranged marriages. Our partners were chosen based on their ability to uphold the purity of noble bloodlines. My marriage would be no exception. While the thought left me cold, the rest of the kingdom reveled in the promise of a royal wedding, their excitement palpable.
Slowly, I stepped away from the Dragon, putting distance between us as I let the wine coat my tongue. My retreat did not go unnoticed. His smirk curled at the edges, almost playful, but I caught the flicker of gold in his dark eyes.
“Sit,” he commanded, his voice like silk over steel. His hand flicked toward the empty chair beside him. His eyes lingered on my crown before dipping over my breasts. I cleared my throat aggressively, which earned me another mischievous grin. I fought the urge to vomit.
“You did well today,” he complimented, as the palace staff began bringing out the evening’s meal.
I couldn’t help but glance quickly around the table. The Dragon’s queen sat to his right, dressed in a shimmering golden gown with long sleeves. The dragon shaped bangles on both of her hands that marked her as his wife shimmered under the candlelight. Next to her, Gregory Handel, the Council member from House Herea, sat with his wife. Though he was far more engaged in the conversation that he maintained with his lover, Davide Moroe of House Angerelia. Athenia had no prejudice against their love, but the Council forbade their marriage because of the men’s inability to produce heirs. Still, they’d been happily and publicly engaged in their affair for decades. Next to Davide sat Rosalia Blackmore of House Delia and her husband, who chatted happily with the widowed Clara Reid of House Palaemon. There was one notably empty chair at the table.
Clay wasn’t here.
“It was quite the show,” the Dragon continued, cutting into his veal.
“Perhaps more of a show than necessary,” I remarked pointedly.
He grinned. “Perhaps. But that was, of course, up to my discretion.”
