Page 49 of Golden Queen
But as I dressed for the feast that would officially welcome Nightfall, I couldn't help but think of him somewhere past those stone walls or stop my mind from wondering what he was doing.
I was making plans to sneak through the servant's stairs to his chambers even as my brain told me how irresponsible and unreasonable it would be.
It wasn't until I realized a visit from me would most likelynotbe welcomed by him, that I truly gave up the pursuit of it in my head.
He had not actually expressed any interest in me after he learned I was not a courtesan. Aside from a few dark glances that could've been imagined by my drunken brain, he had given me no indication of his interest. And he had not touched me in anything more than a casual way.
And now that he knew who I was—whatI was—I knew that his own honor would make damn sure he did not find himself entangled with me in any way.
To bed a princess was to marry a princess...or end up in a dungeon...or without your head...or worse yet, to start a war.
I somehow doubted the former would be any more preferable to him than the latter three. And even if that was not true, he could never be considered for the seat on the Godsgrass Throne that being my husband would grant him. The eldermen would never stand for that. The people would never stand for that.
So that left only the possibility of an affair, and if I was caught in that, I would lose my throne. The people might stomach their queen having a simple affair—flesh called to flesh after all, and everyone knew that. But married or unmarried, laying with the heir to Nightfall and the Lord of Darkwatch, someone with the ability to infiltrate the realm, to set fae bastards in line for the throne...that would never be tolerated.
He was not for me.
The wordimpossibleflitted through my mind, clanging around my brain, kicking up dust that seemed to settle down my spine with a heaviness that slowed my steps and sagged my shoulders.
When I saw Amon Aldur in the great hall, my heart skittered in my chest as that word clanging around my mind transformed.Possible, it whispered.Make it so.
Even over the lively music, I heard the whispers and murmurs as the Lord of Darkwatch was announced. He instantly had all eyes on him—all eyes onthem, the fae in the midst of so much human mundanity.
He was flanked by Aben and Britaxia, both dressed in finery. Britaxia's blood-red gown hugged her body all the way past her hips before it flared out around her long legs.
The Lord of Darkwatch wore a fine midnight-blue coat with the barest hint of silver embroidery running down the lapels, and well-tailored—extremely well-tailored—black breeches that showed off his muscular legs.
His eyes found me on the dais quickly. I told myself not to read more into that than I should. My white and gold gown and the simpler, but still extravagant, godsgrass crown on my head were not precisely subtle, and I was seated alone in the center, in the place of honor.
Arkadian's seat was empty since he was still away from the capital, and Markus never deigned to seat himself on my right as he should have. He most often sulked in some corner with his household guards.
The nearest people were the eldermen, whose chairs were always placed well down the long table.
After the herald's voice died away, the prince turned to Aben and Britaxia and spoke a few words. They peeled away through the crowd as his eyes again found mine.
He strode directly down the long central aisle in my direction, hands in his pocket, dark, cunning eyes fixed on me. My heart did a somersault in my chest when I realized he was coming to speak to me.
To my surprise, he gave me a nearly imperceptible wink and turned to the right, striding toward the alcove at the edge of the room.
I kept my eyes forward, refusing to allow anyone to see them following him across the room. He had not even stopped to say hello. Well, then I did not care where he went.
"You look lonely up here, Princess."
I heard a chair scrape against the floor. When I dared to look, he was seated at my right, leaning one arm on the table's surface with his body angled to face me.
I quickly looked away, schooling my features into polite impassivity. "I do not like that," I said, though it was an effort to keep my lips from curving upward.
"What?" he asked, in that wicked, teasing way of his. "What displeases you, Your Highness?"
"When you call me Princess...or Your Highness," I said, daring another glance at him. "I almost think you are making fun of me."
He laughed, and even as it made my insides turn to liquid warmth, I cringed at the faces that turned to me in reproach. The Minototians, gathered in a little knot at the edge of the hall, shot dark glances our way.
"How did you know?" I asked, turning fully to face him, abruptly forgetting to care what the court thought of it.
"The old man called you Aelia," he said as though it should be obvious.
"There are other Aelias in Windemere," I insisted. "There are quite a few of them, actually. It meansangel, and the Presarion has very little imagination, you know."
