Page 26 of Her Dark Reflection

I don’t know what made me angrier: The fact that she was poking around into my history, or that what had happened to me was thought of by anyone as anaccident.‘Stay out of my business,’ I hissed.

She shot a glance over at the king, who was now in conversation with someone else. ‘Your business is everyone’s business if you want to be around His Majesty. What will I find if I keep digging? Because I know there is something not right about you.’

‘Lucky for me, what you think of me doesn’t really matter.’

‘Maybe. Perhaps we should leave that for His Majesty to decide.’

‘Stop this, Vanaria. It’s pitiful.’ Tilting my chin, I brushed past her.

A gush of warmth spilled over my back, and the shock of it seized my body, hunching my shoulders over as red rivulets poured down the white of my dress and made tracks through the paint on my arms.

The page boy watched me in open-mouthed horror. Vanaria stood with an empty cup dangling from her hand.

‘Whoops,’ she said, touching her fingers to her lips. ‘I’m so clumsy.’

I wanted to scream. I wanted to claw her eyes out with my fingernails. I wanted to wrap my hands around her slender neck and squeeze until her tongue lolled from her mouth. But I stood frozen as tittering laugher broke out from a nearby cluster of courtiers. I was almost glad of the white paint. At least it would hide the humiliation heating my cheeks.

Without another word, I strode away from her. If I spent another moment with her within arm’s reach, I’d do something I wouldn’t want all these witnesses to see.

‘Your Majesty,’ I said when I reached the king, prompting him to turn away from the man he had been speaking with.

His eyebrows hiked up his forehead when he caught sight of me. ‘What happened to you?’

I didn’t trust myself to answer the question. Everything was ruined, there was no way I could beguile him while covered in mulled wine, and I just wanted to scrub the itchy paint from my skin and go to bed. ‘By your leave, I’ll retire from the ball.’

He looked on the verge of laughing and the humiliation began to burn at my eyes as I blinked away tears. I bobbed an angry curtsey, but he stopped me on the verge of walking away.

‘I don’t mean to offend you. Go and clean yourself up, but I’d be pleased if you’d wait for me in my suite afterwards. I’ll send word for you to be let in.’ He smiled conspiratorially. ‘After all, you still owe me a game.’

I readily agreed, and the triumph was sweet enough that I completely ignored the gasps and laughter that followed me as I left the ball.

I was waiting when His Majesty returned to his rooms, the wine and the paint gone from my body. My hair was soft and perfumed, my skin pink, my glamour reapplied for another day, and I was dressed in something loose and easy to remove, with Draven’s apple tucked securely away in a pouch sewn into the lining of the skirt.

‘Why are you sitting so far away from the fire, sweet one? The maids would have stoked it for you if you’d asked,’ he said as he shut the door behind him.

‘I’m not cold,’ I lied, shooting a glance at the glowing coals across the room. Enduring the sight of flames while I was already so nervous was not something I wanted to test.

I must have appeared serene as he removed his cloak and the circlet of gold on his head, but inside I was crawling with anxiety.

I shouldn’t have worried, though. He took one look at me and swept me up into a hungry kiss. So much for our card game.

My nerves quickly faded away. Beneath his finery, his body was pale, his flesh moving towards softness, his stomach rounded, the skin around his torso beginning to loosen. He was still an imposing presence, but these imperfections, when paired with the urgent way he moved his hands over me, showed me that for all the pomp and bluster surrounding his position as ruler of the country, he was just a man. And I knew men.

I quickly sank into the routine I had perfected over my years as a maisera, a carefully choreographed succession of moans and sighs, of a hand here and a kiss there, of a swish of the hips and an entwining of legs. I took him in my mouth, because I knew how men liked such things, and while he gasped and panted, I wondered how the Winking Nymph’s new girl, Aalin, was getting along. This part of the job was not something that came naturally to everyone, after all. It used to be something I dreaded, but since I had realised the power in making a grand man squirm and shudder to my bidding, I had found ways to enjoy myself. No matter how mighty the man, they were all as vulnerable to pleasure and teeth when they had their cock in your mouth.

When he finally crawled on top of me, he didn’t last long enough for me to grow bored. After a few minutes of enthusiastic thrusting, followed by the spasmodic groan of release, he heaved himself off and settled onto his back with a contented sigh. I stroked the silver hair of his chest and tried to look satisfied.

‘I’m famished,’ I said, sitting up and eying a platter on a low side table. He couldn’t sleep yet. Not until I had achieved what I came for. He made a low grunt. I climbed off the bed, deliberately rocking the mattress as I did, and thumped across the floor, casting a quick glance in his direction as I patted at my discarded petticoat. His eyes were already closed, the fragile skin of his eyelids slightly purple.

I cobbled together a plate of meats and cheeses from the platter, trying to pick the pieces that looked least appetising and dumping them together, so it looked more mess than smorgasbord, before placing the apple slightly off to the side, separate and perfect and gleaming, still as ripe and fresh as the day Draven had left it on the mantlepiece.

The king was snoring quietly when I plonked down next to him, jostling him enough that he woke with a start.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I said, blinking at him in exaggerated surprise. ‘Were you asleep?’

He rubbed a hand over his face, clearly ready to dose off again, but perked up when I held out a glass.

‘Are you hungry?’ I asked as he sat up and sipped at the wine.

---