Page 2 of Golden Queen
The Castering lord had been unwilling to look me in the eye because he believed himself superior to me. I was just an unimportant detail in his quest for the throne. After all, it was notmypermission he would need to gain to take the crown.
The Minototian, however, would not dare look at me lest theevils of my wicked womb infect him and his righteous honor.To the Minototians, women were the temptresses who led good men astray from their paths of virtue.
I prayed that the Minototians had only come for trade.
Even if the Windemerian Council of Eldermen would never consider an alliance with Minototia, a poor kingdom with very few resources aside from their fanatic warrior priests, I didn't even want to hold a conversation with them. There was nothing to be gained from losing my temper in front of the entire court when I couldn't manage to keep my mouth shut.
The Minototian herald finally rode out. He carried a flag at the end of a long pole depicting their angry red bull god. "Prelate Kellan Vijohn, blessed of the Undenary, High Wilshman of Minototia, and Servant of the Brotherhood of the Minotaur!"
The Prelate looked smug as his title was shouted. He leaned back in his saddle and puffed out his chest.
It made me nauseous to see the man. He would have been marginally handsome, if not for the fact that he most likely had several more brides locked up at home. Most of them would have been no more than fourteen years old when the disgusting creature took them to wife.
I made no attempt to school my features. I glared at the Prelate as I followed the signal from Markus to dismount.
Arkadian and the few other nobles who accompanied us followed until we all stood in the middle of the godsgrass, facing the Minototians.
"Well-met, My Lords," the regent said, clasping arms with Prelate Vijohn.
The prelate smiled with his mouth full of straight, white shark's teeth. "Well-met, Regent." he said, flexing his arms.
Thick muscles strained against the sleeves of his robes. The shape of his wide chest made him look as though his arms were somehow too short. I was struck with the absolute certainty that the man would not have been able to wipe his own backside, and I had to stifle a laugh as the prelate's gaze slid to me.
He still did not meet my eyes. Instead, they went straight to the bodice of my white and gold brocade gown. They lingered on my chest, and then slid slowly down my stomach before his gaze landed on the fullness of my hips, evident even in loose flowing skirts.
Revulsion rolled through me at that look, twin to the ones I had been receiving since I first developed breasts.
I tried to force more disdain into my expression as the prelate's gaze moved up to my face, lingering on my lips first, of course, before he finally met my gaze with an approving nod.
It was more than I received from the Castering lord, but I would take the cold indifference of being ignored any day over what the arrogant cleric had just done to me with his eyes.
My face heated with embarrassment as Markus formally introduced me.
Despite myself, I felt shame for the way he had looked at me. I fought the urge to step off into the godsgrass, to let it hide the shape of me from any further scrutiny under the Minototian's predatory gaze.
Thankfully, the meeting was short. We headed back to the city in only a few minutes. My uncle led the column on his tall, steel gray charger, flanked by the regent's personal guard in their gold and white embroidered cloaks.
Arkadian and I followed him, riding side-by-side.
As Duke of Lithaway, my cousin was the most influential nobleman in Windemere. He was always afforded a position at my side, something I never failed to be grateful for since it meant I was rarely alone when he was in the city.
His duties in Lithaway took him away from Albiyn much more often than I would have liked, though. I tried not to blame him for that. I understood duty better than most.
As we passed through the city gates and my mare broke into a spirited canter, I was thankful for the courtiers and nobles grouped behind us. They blocked the prelate's gaze from my backside in the saddle.
I had a feeling it would not be the last time during the King's Day celebrations that I would resent the fact that my figure attracted the unwanted attention of the men assembled to meet me.
"Fix your face, Aelia," I heard my cousin's voice, this time from the left where he sat beside me on the dais.
The feast before us was the official start of the month-long King's Day celebration. The annual Alterran trade summit would coincide with my betrothal to one of the lords or princes...orgods help me,maybe even kingsand tudemonds, who showed up to make their play for the throne of Windemere.
I fixed my face and attempted a smile as I again surveyed the crowd. It was a sea of finely dressed nobles and courtiers. Women in colorful silks and satins, many with golden halos of godsgrass across their brows, mingled and danced with a great many unfamiliar men. lords and knights, either vying for myprecious, gods-blessed royal handor some part of the lucrative commerce of the Godsgrass Kingdom that would be decided during the trade summit.
"Thank you, sweetling," I belatedly whispered to Arkadian in response to his reminder about my stony expression. I had the satisfaction of seeing his brows meet in annoyance.
I had been teasing him withsweetlingsince I learned Lady Cattiget had been using it as a pet name for him after the two of them had a rather ill-advised entanglement. Baron Cattiget had taken his family along on an official visit to the ancestral seat of our shared House of Lithaway. Arkadian had, in turn, taken the baron's daughter to his bed.
"Gods, Aelia, don't remind me. She is waiting in the wings, as you might have noticed." He looked to the ceiling with a fair amount of despair. "Everywhere I turn, she is just there with that ridiculous look on her face."
