Page 69 of I Dream of Dragons
Even if he met the love of his life already and I’m just another notch on his bedpost. Would that be so bad, under the circumstances?
Arkin is a silent presence at my side as we hurry through the palace. He doesn’t ask what the telchin wanted to talk to meabout. As we turn a corner, something flutters at the edge of my vision and I turn to find a black moth flying over my shoulder.
Is Jai close? Can he send these moths to find me? Where is he?
Wait…He has to be already at the banquet, with the king, and I open my stride as much as the gown allows, anxious to arrive.
I need to speak to Mars, clarify everything. Ground myself again. I feel adrift. This confusion is buzzing inside my head, not letting me think.
I never thought I’d find Mars again, but in moments of dreaming I had dreamed of talking to him, of burrowing in the safety of his arms, of his kind heart.
Entering the dining hall, I find the long table I recall from a few days back decked in black and gold, the golden candelabra lined up across the middle and studded with slender white candles. The platters are laden with food, the aromas making my stomach cramp.
But as I follow the line of the flickering flames to the end of the table, on the dais, I find the king standing, a towering presence, his pale brows bunched together in a dark glower.
“Lady Rae.” His voice bursts over the room like thunder. Many of the seated nobles flinch to hear it. “You are late.”
Caught in his cold gaze and the gazes of his guests, I perform a hasty curtsy. “Highness,Anax. I apologize.”
“What could have been more important than my invitation to this banquet?” His voice falls, now deadly quiet. “Than an invitation from yourking?”
I swallow. This is worse than last time, I just know it. This is the second time I have undermined his authority in front of others. “The telchin asked to see me.”
“Since when is a telchin’s wish more important than your king’s?”
That’s blasphemy, I think,hubris, like the one committed by King Marsyas of old. The telchin is the voice of the Gods. Not even kings can stand in the Gods’ way.
But I don’t say that. Can’t.
I’m aware of guards at my back, other than Arkin, of the screech of their tall spears as they lift them off the floor, the whisper of their boots as they shift on their feet.
And I’m aware,have beenaware since I entered, of Jai.
Jai, who isn’t sitting near the king—who isn’t sitting at all, instead standing not far from me, one booted foot propped against the wall, muscular arms folded over his broad chest, and a bored expression on his handsome face.
I’m not looking at him. Not at all. Yet somehow, I’ve managed to take him in, noting every detail, and I’m already obsessed with the way his black jacket, buttoned all the way up to his chin, molds so perfectly to the hard lines and planes of his torso, the way his black pants hug those muscled thighs, tucked inside tall black boots.
With the way his black hair hangs in his eyes and curls at the back of his neck, brushing that chiseled jaw and those marked cheekbones that give him such a sharp and austere air.
With that mouth, so tempting, the full upper lip softening its harsh line.
The mask he’s wearing, hiding his emotions.
“Take a seat, my lady,” the king says, his voice sharp, and after a long moment it sinks in that he’s still addressing me. “I was in the middle of something.”
Whispers rise, hissing voices. It’s probably unheard of that I haven’t yet been dragged to the dungeons or thrown into the treacherous sea. I am, after all, considered to be a mere human, nothing but filth under the fae nobles’ pointy shoes, and I have insulted the king by coming late to the banquet. They can’t see any reason why he’d spare me.
But I smile a little, because there he is, after all.Mars. It has to be Mars, peeping out of the king’s stony façade. Mars would never hurt me.
Only one chair is still free, as expected—I’m the only guest who dared arrive late at this special banquet—but I never expected it to be that close to the king’s dais.
It’s, in fact, right across from where Jai sat last time—and indeed I now see his coat thrown over the chair across from mine as I walk behind the other guests to reach my seat.
Also, to my surprise, the other survivors of the second trial are sitting not far from me. There is Mera, giving me an amused smile, toying with a piece of bread. Her dark locks have been pulled up in a fancy hairdo, decorated with pearl pins. Her gown is dark red, like spilled blood.
And there is Amaryll. She’s avoiding my gaze, looking down at her empty plate instead. She looks tired, if resplendent in a jade gown that sets off her dark skin and matches her brilliant eyes. Tired and unhappy.
Then again, not everyone finds near-death experiences amusing, like Mera.
