Page 43 of Songs and Spun Gold
He led her through the halls of the castle until he came to a halt in front of a set of oak double doors. They were larger than the doors on an ordinary room, but not so large as to be obnoxious in their self-importance. A pair of guards blocked the way.
“Where are we?” Katy asked quietly.
Instead of answering, her traveling companion addressed the men in front of them. “The miller’s daughter, as requested by the king.”
One of them gave a curt nod and opened the door behind him. Not even the squeaking of hinges or grating of wood across the stone floor signaled the movement. As Katy’s guard led her through, she let her eyes wander about the large room. Under her feet was white marble with yellow swirls through it. Along both walls, tall, narrow windows would have let in the sunlight if it were day. Since it wasn’t, the space was lit by wall sconces.
She wished the chandeliers had been lit instead; the flickering shadows cast by the flames reminded her of the narrow passageways in the lower level of the theater. Anything could be lurking in those shadows. Her heart rate picked up as she dimly heard the scuffling noises that had caught her attention before Gunther had appeared.
Annoyed with herself, Katy pinched her lips together. Being in the king’s castle for unknown reasons did not give her imagination permission to run away with itself. She sternly clamped down on it, and the shadows lost their ominous appearance while the echoes of the theater hallway disappeared.
At the far end of the room, two wooden thrones with dark red cushions sat on a dais. They were empty, but she suspected they weren’t going to stay that way. If she’d been brought to the throne room on her arrival, King Steffan must wish to see her.
Katy noticed her hands trembling as the guard stopped several strides from the dais. A king was simply a man; sheshouldn’t feel intimidated about meeting one. And perhaps in different circumstances, she wouldn’t have.
But she still didn’t know why she was there.
And meeting a king rumored to be volatile when she didn’t know why she was meeting him was…a little nerve-wracking, to say the least.
Rubbing her arms under her borrowed cloak, she looked around nervously. The rustle of her movements was almost loud in the excellent acoustics of the silent throne room. Even her guard was perfectly noiseless.
She wished she could have Otto as her guard. Even if he stayed as silent as this one, his familiar presence would be a comfort.
“How long do you suppose we’ll be here?” she whispered.
The guard glanced at her before returning his eyes to the front. “I don’t know, Miss.”
Frustrated, Katy crossed her arms and walked in a small circle for something to do. If the king wasn’t immediately available, couldn’t he have allowed her to wash off the dust and fix her hood-mussed hair first? No one had even bothered to explain why she had been dragged from her home like a criminal.
Since she wasn’t one, she didn’t plan to meet the king looking like something the cat brought home. Not if she could help it.
Ripping the ribbon from her braid, she jerked the twisted strands free and began combing through her riotous curls with her fingers.
“What are you doing?” the guard whispered. His eyebrows dropped as he watched her out of the corner of his eye.
“Making myself presentable for the king.” She flashed him what she meant to be a sweet smile, but it felt more like a sneer. “Since he has graciously provided the time.”
He opened his mouth, closed it again, and looked straight ahead.
She was gathering her hair into a bun, the ribbon between her lips, when a door behind the thrones flew open and a tall man with strawberry blonde hair and pale skin stormed through it. Unlike Katy, he wore clothing made of expensive materials and boots that shone with polish. A dark red robe fluttered behind him as he strode across the dais, his head turned to a servant scurrying along behind him.
“—to me—theinstanthe reappears—”
After these two, a middle-aged woman swept through the doorway. Her dark brown hair was braided around her head in a crown, similar to how Louise often wore hers. It was more regal on this olive-skinned woman who could only be Queen Carina, her dark red dress flaring around her as she walked.
Was it a bad sign that both monarchs were formally attired in the royal family’s colors? Or was this how they normally presented themselves in the throne room?
A cleared throat pulled her attention to the guard next to her. He was lowered in a bow, one fist pressed to his chest. Taking the hint, Katy dropped into the best curtsy she could manage with her hands holding a mass of twisted hair behind her head and a ribbon hanging from her mouth.
Perhaps she should have released her hair, but she’d spent the last minute wrestling it into position. She wasn’t redoing it simply because a man with too much power decided to finally show up.
And she’d thought her father was foolish for his remarks in the tavern. Wincing, she slowly gave up on her hair and moved her hands to lift her skirt like she should.
She could hear King Steffan muttering under his breath, but apparently the acoustics weren’t as impressive as she thought, because she couldn’t make out much. “—sible—neverhere—need him—”
“You could have waited until later,” the queen murmured. Her lips barely moved; Katy wasn’t sure she’d heard the words correctly.
“No.” The king scowled. “I am dealing with this immediately. It’s his own fault.”
