Page 27 of The Reluctant Queen
A young man, only a year older than she, led her around the floor during a tepid tune as they discussed their respective hometowns. He was the third son of a papermaker from near Napivol in the west. Funded by his family’s business, the young man had struck out east to attend the Institute and stayed in town after earning his credits. He was well educated, kind on the eyes, a little bit taller than her—always a plus, rarely a possibility—and not beholden to any familial duty, for that all fell to his older siblings.
A nice common boy.He certainly fit the bill.
The song ended and they were exchanging information when a shadow fell over the pair’s conversation. The young man nodded to her politely before stepping away and vanishing into the crowd.
“Countess, may I have this dance?” the king’s voice came at her in a low tumble of notes that threatened to buckle her knees.
She turned to him, a look of schooled pleasantry on her face. “I would be delighted, Your Majesty.”
And so, they danced. The next song was livelier than the last, the type of group frolic that forced them apart and drew them together several times over the course of the routine. The gala, she’d found, was the oddest mix of traditional court custom contrasted with the sort of party one might find in a seedy pub in some half-named village in the middle of the country. Shelovedit.
“Lady Hevva,” the king began when the steps brought them together after a phrase. His enormous palm lay flush against her lower back, and he leaned in to speak with her as they turned and stomped in time with the others. “I was speaking with my friend Berim...” He trailed off, aware he’d succeeded in getting her attention, as if he hadn’t had it already.
“Ah, and what did Berim have to share?”
“Oh, not much. Though he was asking after a certain Miss Saka. Have you seen her anywhere this evening?”
Before she could concoct a reply, the dance pulled them apart again. As Hevva took a turn with a temporary partner, she caught the king’s eye, and he winked at her.He winked!
When next they were in each other’s arms, she had her response at the ready. “Miss Saka informed me that she would be late this evening. Though, I do believe she was hoping to speak with Berim.”
“Ah, well it appears I will not cross paths with Miss Saka. I am leaving after this dance. But I’m certain my friend Berim will be turning up shortly.”
The steps necessitated parting ways again, and when they were brought back together, Hevva’s slender fingers rested upon the king’s hand and she quipped, “Ah, well it appears I will miss seeing Berim, for I too am departing after this dance.”
He twirled her beneath his arm, and she was fairly certain she spied a shimmer of a smile beneath his schooled expression.
“Well then, should you cross paths with Miss Saka whilst taking your leave, please inform her that Berim will be ensconced in the king’s private salon. I’ve offered him use of the space, you see. He’s feeling a bit...non-conversational this evening.”
She laughed as the song came to an end, and they made their formal goodbyes. Then, King Hethtar walked directly out of the main doors to the public hall, while Lady Hevva scurried off to find Mr. and Mrs. Gulan.
Feigning stomach troubles, which wasn’t too difficult after the shellfish situation at their first meeting, Lady Hevva persuaded her new friends to look after her brother and return him to Hewran Hall safely. Theyhappily agreed, as they had no children of their own and had grown rather fond of young Kas. So, Lady Hevva Tilevir, Countess of Kabuvirib made her escape, ducking down a discreet side hallway where she vanished.
Interestingly, Miss Saka turnedup wearing an identical gown.
Locating the chamber was easily done due to the pair of guards standing watch outside. She dipped her chin at them, and they returned the gesture with infinitesimal nods, granting her access. Clearly, they’d been toldsomeonewould be stopping by. She hoped to the gods they were discreet. Saka, or Hevva, or some combination of the two, rapped softly on the closed door before trying the handle. It was unlocked, so she slid into the space before shutting it behind her. Hevva was the half of her who had the courage to approach the king’s soldiers, Saka the half who had the courage to approach the king.
“Lock the door, Saka,” Berim growled from across the room.
Her heart thundered, and she obliged.
In half a moment they’d closed the gap and crashed into one another, a tangle of long limbs and roaming hands. Soft mouths partnered in a dance far more lurid than anything she’d ever experienced at any ball.
“You are so beautiful.” His breath was hot on her skin as he trailed his tongue and teeth down the length of her neck. “This gown, lavender and daisies. Like the crown I won for you last night.”
She laughed, sultry and low as he continued his downward trajectory, peppering kisses along the soft swell of her bosom.
“Your gown is exquisite.”
“That’s a big word, Berim.” She moaned when he tweaked her already sensitive nipple.
He ignored her comment. “I’m going to ruin it now.”
And he did. On the heels of her responding grin, Berim, the stable boy, tore Saka’s lovely lace and lavender concoction right down the center of itsembroidered bodice.
Picking at the buttons of his shirt, she rid him of the offending fabric as he lapped and sucked her bare breasts. And then he was lifting her, as Berim was wont to do. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist as they tumbled across the room, crashing onward, until her bottom came down atop a smooth surface.
His mouth angled down over hers with such fervor that glasses rattled. It seemed that she was sitting atop the bar. Here they kissed for quite some time, no longer were they racing toward some invisible finish line. Instead, their initial burst of speed slowed to a languid sort of stroll.
