Page 36 of The Reluctant Queen
They passed the turn where Hevva stood in the shadows, bracing herself against the wall with one hand. The prince and his companion did not even notice her presence. Good, since Hevva wasn’t in the mood to talk. Nekash was speaking with Lady Tahereh, the white-haired daughterof Lady Nathari. Hevva thought they might be cousins, but it wasn’t like the prince had a strong moral code.Perhapshewas her plan.
When all was silent again, Lady Hevva weaved her way up the hall and turned left, to float the opposite direction of where the prince and his pretty lady disappeared. Tottering, Hevva decided she might as well work on getting back upstairs.
But then she discovered theactualbest thing she’d seen all evening: the wine cellar door was left open.
Perfection.
fourteen
Ehmet gives her the moon.
“Have you seen LadyHevva?” Ehmet asked Lord Yaranbur, an innocuous sort of gentleman who the king figured would answer him straight, while not being sharp enough to read into it any further.
“Please, let me offer my deepest apologies to you, Your Majesty. For I have not seen the illustrious lady to whom you refer.”
All those words when he could have said “no?”The king nodded to the man, and then drifted away while wishing the Gulans were guests at the house party.Theywould know where the lady had gotten off to, and they would be far more enjoyable company than half the aristocrats in the room.
He knew the countess was around somewhere. Ehmet had first spotted her and her schooled look of disinterest before the dancing began, while he was still stuck in the receiving line. The vixen hadn’t even come through to greet him, his mother, or Nekash—not that Nekash was around. She’d been right there across the room. Then, the woman he was being introduced to tittered so demurely behind her hand that Ehmet thought she’d said something he missed. So, he focused on his subject for all of two seconds, learning the sound had been whispered laughter. When he looked up, Hevva was gone.
The king located her again during a quadrille he danced withMiss Tarcadu. The countess was chatting with the prince by the garden doors, with her back to him. But it was her, he was positive. It helped that her white hair was a blasted beacon, but she wasn’t the only person in the room with the distinctive locks. He knew it was her by her posture, the dip between her shoulder blades, the soft curve of her waist, the rise of that pert bottom beneath her gown. He also knew it was her because he’d seen her from the front, but that was neither here nor there.
Ehmet had already committed to the waltz with Miss Hehsaki, or he would have raced across that dance floor and stolen Lady Hevva from Nekash’s side. Alas, he had to go and find his contracted partner. When he did make it back to the floor, Hevva was three couples away, in the arms of his handsy brother.
Oh, she was lovely as she spun around the room in her iridescent dress, eye to eye with Nekash. Though, the king didn’t miss the way his brother’s fingers inched closer and closer to her perfect round bottom. Chest shuddering on his next inhale, Ehmet covered his exhaled growl behind a cough. He wanted to rip Nekash’s hands from her body and toss the lecher from the room. Tension tightening Hevva’s shoulders said she felt the same way.
I wonder how badly she wants to slap him right now?
Ehmet’s question was answered when the lady, so inherently full of grace, stomped hard on his brother’s foot.
He would be having words with the prince later. A willing partner was one thing, but in this situation, he was certain she was not.
Then, Lady Hevva was facing him again for the briefest of moments. Ehmet caught her eye, which he’d been trying to do for over an hour at that point. He needed to know she saw him, to know she was paying attention.
He wondered if, perhaps, Saka had come to town as well.
When the dance was done, the king escorted the Baron of Kashuvol’s sister from the floor and was relieved to learn it was the end of the set. Taking the opportunity to exit via a side-door, he snuck into his own apartments for a few blissful moments of silence, then set off in search of Lady Hevva, or Miss Saka, or both. He wasn’t certain who’d turned up to the palace.
After looping the quiet upper floors, he chanced a circuit of the main level, which was a madhouse. If there was one thing the dowager queen could do well, it was holding a grandiose multi-day affair. Ehmet skirted a couple seeking quiet refuge, surprised a couple who’d located quiet refuge, found a few rooms empty, looped the card room in case she fancied a game of whist, and then descended to the ground floor with heavy steps.
Lumbering along the half-lit hallway toward the throne room, Ehmet thought he might sit for a while and simply think. But then, a strange sound caught his attention. A rhythm of monotonoustingssounded for five seconds, paused, and then began again.
Someone was in the wine cellar, likely a drunken guest, because his staff were unlikely to make such a ruckus. A peek through the cracked door confirmed his suspicions, and the sight of her lifted the downturned corners of his mouth.
Hevva was walking up and down the far wall, dragging the base of a wine bottle over the protruding necks of his store.Ting, ting, ting, ting, ting—pause—ting, ting, ting, ting, ting.
“Hook hand? Is that you?” he called out.
She spun to face him and yelped. “Who the fates’re you!?”
“It’s me.” Walking in, he closed the door, pitching the room into darkness.
She bit out a string of curses.
Ehmet created a glowing ball and set it on the floor, basking the room in a cool, silvery light.
Hevva walked over and slid down the wall until her bottom hit the floor. She pointed at the orb, wine bottle in hand. “That’s like the bum of a lightning bug, but really big. And not blinking. I like it.”
He chuckled. It was meant to be the moon; he’d need to work on his execution.
