Page 13 of Veiled Flames
“Women should be seen—neverheard.” The king strikes me again, this time even harder and over both of my ears at the same time. My dizziness amplifies, and I find it hard to remain on my feet. It’s impossible to keep tears from my eyes.
“We heard you were feral.” The King grips the back of my neck and squeezes. “No matter. Any wench can be tamed.” Tightly squeezing the back of my neck, he forces my head forward, and I cast my eyes down.
When the King releases me, I feel bruises rising in place of his strong, boney grip, and I slowly lift my gaze toward my father. This foreign king’s words and actions are as much an insult to the King as to me. Red has bloomed on Father’s cheeks, but he won’t even look toward me.
Olifer shoots me a sympathetic glance, and Alfryd’s hand twitches, like he’s fighting not to unleash his sword. At least my brothers stand ready to defend me. Yet, neither has acted.
I expect they were briefed on the importance of this transactional marriage. In fact, they may have known about itfor weeks—perhaps a full moon cycle—and neither whispered so much as a hint to me.
“And this is one of my grandsons, Prince Tynan,” the despicable King says.
They brought a grandson.
Thisprince must be my future husband. Nerves swirl in my belly. Even if this young man is hideous and humorless, even if he’s cruel, at least my husband might be someone born within the same ten years as I have.
A pair of highly polished boots step into my line of vision. But I dare not move—not even to adjust my gaze—lest I be struck again.
Prince Tynan’s shadow, cast by the roaring fire behind him, lengthens as he leans forward, and the temperature around me noticeably rises. This prince smells of lemons and poplar wood, and I feel as if I’m drifting, as if the air has become infused by some kind of luxurious intoxicant.
I quite like the scent of my intended. But my continued light-headedness’ is likely less about this prince’s scent and more about the lingering effects of his grandfather’s blows to my head.
“Look up,” he whispers. “Idareyou.” His lips are so close to my ear I feel his breath. “I’m notentirelyrepulsive.” He leans back.
Slowly, I dare let my gaze rise. Above his shiny black boots, I discover deep green breeches, so tightly fitted I can’t help but notice the shape of his legs, and how his thigh muscles bulge as they rise above his knees. The impressively muscled thighs stretch strongly toward solid hips, and his jacket, formed from the same deep green velvet, cuts his body just below his waist.Two rows of golden buttons flare over his chest—very broad in contrast to his lower half.
When I finally lift my eyes higher, I gasp.
The prince is striking. The most attractive and tallest man I have ever met—even more handsome than how I imagined the stranger under the cloak in the woods. Could it be the same man?
No. This man’s scent is different, his eye color too, and although both men are tall and muscular—at least compared to the men in my family—Prince Tynan is taller and houses remarkably different energy. My stranger exuded immense, restrained power, but this young prince is like a coiled spring ready to explode.
Prince Tynan is freshly shaved, and his jawline is sharp, almost as if one might cut their palm against it. And above his jaw, hollows emphasize prominent cheekbones, framing a nose so finely shaped it might have been carved from hard stone. His hair is the same indigo blue as his father’s, but with no hint of silver, and curls spring out from his head in several directions at once, dancing around his ears, as if he took no time to groom himself for tonight, as if he’s just come in from horseback riding.
A smile creeps onto my lips, and I let myself hope that riding could be a past time I might share with my husband. Perhaps he’ll even allow me to ride alongside him. Perhaps evenastridea horse, rather than being handicapped by the sideways position the Tenets of Othrix dictate for women. Hope for my future rises.
Our eyes meet.
My belly flutters and heats, just as it did during my ride with the stranger. Prince Tynan’s eyes are green like his father’s, but farbrighter, sparkling like spring meadows after a rain. And much more importantly, in my future husband’s eyes I sense humor and mischief, along with other things I cannot name. Things that excite me.
“Like what you see?” he asks.
His words snap me out of my thoughts. How long have I been staring?
The young prince is smirking, clearly understanding that I’ve been admiring his appearance, and suddenly his mischievous look seems closer to arrogance. My cheeks flush, and I bite back my urge to either deny the truth or make light of it—or to point out thathehas been similarly studyingme.
I dare not speak. Not within his grandfather’s striking range.
Dread invades all the hope in my heart. If Prince Tynan learned how to treat women from his elders, my future will be miserable.
I calm my fears, telling myself that while this man may be arrogant, I saw no cruelty in the Prince’s eyes. Cruelty that radiates from both older men so strongly they may as well be wearing signs declaring their malicious dispositions.
“She’s comely, Grandfather,” Prince Tynan says. “Well done.” He smirks as he steps back.
My future husband finds me attractive. Pride and hope warm my chest.
A princess, his sister, is introduced, but I barely hear a word. And then Alfryd steps forward and bows as he brushes the princess’s hand against his lips.
Everyone laughs, and I wish I could tell whether it’s because they don’t recognize the custom, or whether they’re delighting in my brother’s obvious attraction to the young princess.
