Page 23 of The Shadow of Breninsol
With a clap of the king’s hands, the music resumed once more, but those sounds didn’t reach her. Audible solely to Eleanor, a voice, filled with pride, resonated with a powerful boom.
I am the very light, bathe in it.
Eleanor’s vision dimmed, and she wasn’t standing in the lavish gold and white ballroom anymore. She was in another throne room with other voices that were long gone.
The darkness will reach you no more.
Her breaths became shallow and rapid, each inhale a struggle, as she heard screams of terror, horror, and pain. Until something solid hit her back and jolted her to the here and now.
As clear as if the woman was standing next to Eleanor, she heard an older patient woman’s voice whispering softly in her ear.
What do you feel?She felt a cold wall in one hand and wetness from the other, not realising she’d sloshed the warm wine over her hand.
What do you hear?Voices. Joyful laughter. Music.
What do you see?She blinked harshly to clear the dark spots that’d emerged in her vision, and as the room came back into focus, she saw the ballroom. Courtiers dancing in their fine silks and jewels.
Eleanor took a deep, shuddering breath and dared a look at the dais, to ensure the king stayed there and wasn’t getting any closer. As soon as he sat on the gold throne, relief swam through her. A woman in a sheer dress who was dressed like a Favour sauntered over to him to present him with a large gold encrusted cup. It seemed he wasn’t without his wine, much like his members of his court. As Eleanor watched, other similarly dressed women flocked to him, his other Favours, draping themselves over and around their king. The music had changed to a slow and elegant melody, and the courtiers converged into the centre of the floor, having resumed dancing with their partners. But Eleanor couldn’t stay in this room, not while the king was here, not now. Seeing the king had stirred something uncomfortably deep within her and she needed some space away from him, the room, everything.
She needed some air.
Eleanor downed the rest of her glass and dropped it on a servant’s golden tray, as she made her way to a side door which she hoped would lead to the outside. She told herself, if she could get some air, just for a minute, she’d be fine, and then she’d go back.
Eleanor rounded the corner with renewed purpose and collided with a clatter into something hard and unforgiving.
“Shit. Sorry,” she blurted reflexively as her hand reached for her thigh. Large hands reached up as if it was instinctive to stop her from stumbling and falling to the floor, and instead she landed against a solid wall of warm muscle.
She felt something in her flare to life, a part of her that she’d forced herself to never think of, but had long lain dormant in that deep, dark central hidden recess of herself. She felt it flowing through her body even though she shivered against it, as the juxtaposition of long, cold fingers wrapped themselves around her bare shoulders. Every instinct in her stopped her from going on the defensive, to step back and reach for her concealed blade. Even if she desired to, she discovered she was unable to. Her feet were firmly rooted to the ground beneath her, while being in this stranger’s presence.
A soundless rush filled her ears as if she’d been submerged beneath the waves, as she tentatively inched her way up the hard body. Warmth kindled in her stomach, as if they were in their own sphere where nothing and no one could touch them. Her eyes widened as the very breath was sucked from her body, or maybe she was holding her breath. Either way, she couldn’t remember if she was breathing or not.
It didn’t matter, as she found herself being drawn into a faraway place. A place that lacked gravity. Turbulent grey-blue eyes with a hint of silver had taken up her entire vision, and they became her whole world.
Despite her burning lungs craving a breath, the very air was insignificant. The very earth beneath her feet didn’t matter to her.
At this moment, everything else was meaningless to her. She could be floating or drowning.
It didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered.
All she knew was him, this moment, and the desire soaring through her body.
“Such a wicked word from such delicious lips.” The Dark Star’s voice was as smooth as silk as it embedded itself into her narrow world of those swirling pewter eyes. She felt his voice enfold her into a haven she longed to inhabit eternally.
His words drew her eyes to his lips, luscious and sensual. They softened his strong jaw and sharp cheekbones, turning a severe face ruggedly handsome.No, that wasn’t the right word for what he was. Beautiful. He was, without a doubt, beautiful.
Her mouth dropped open, an instinctual attempt to suck in a breath as her body demanded. He stood half a head taller than her, and she wasn't considered to be short. He would be a head taller than her if she wasn’t wearing heels. He had arched black eyebrows that matched his long black hair, worn in the current courtly fashion of being past his shoulders, with a slight wave to it.
It was only then that she managed to suck in a much-needed breath.
He was wearing a rich deep purple and silver thread embellished long-coat with a matching silk waistcoat. Even without the clothing, the many jewelled rings on those elegant fingers that were rubbing her shoulders revealed everything she needed to know. Eleanor swallowed as she forced herself to step back from him, out of his clutches.
She had retreated from him the previous night. The Dark Star.
Fuck.
He was a noble.
