28. Chapter 28
T he throne room was so shiny, it gave Talen a headache being there too long.
Talen stood very respectfully before the ornate silver dais where his parents sat, exuding all the casual regality of people who didn’t have to beg for favors.
Beside them, Kaelin perched with the sharp poise of a hawk on its perch, one leg draped elegantly over the other, and her chin balanced lightly against her hand.
“Well?” Maelion asked with a sigh, drumming his fingers. “What is it this time? Another half-burned barracks or an impromptu duel with another noble’s son?”
Talen flashed a grin, hiding a grimace. “Nothing quite so exciting, Father. I come bearing a simple request. I’d like to bring a guest to dinner tonight.”
Lyra leaned forward, raising a perfectly arched brow. “Who?”
“Ren Harper. She’s been instrumental in our recent efforts against the creatures plaguing our kingdom.”
Kaelin’s scoff was so delicate it could have been mistaken for a sneeze.
“Instrumental? She arrived reeking of a peasant, challenged me within minutes in front of the court, and looked like she’d rather be gutting someone than curtsying to a royal family.
” She narrowed her eyes at Talen. “A true diplomatic treasure, indeed. ”
“Impressive, really,” Talen insisted. “She doesn’t back down from a challenge.”
“The mortal pit-fighter?” Maelion clarified.
“She prefers renegade heroine, I think,” Talen quipped.
Lyra’s lips thinned. “We do not often dine with mercenaries.”
“She’s not a mercenary,” Talen replied. “She’s a crown-backed hunter.”
“ You appointed her,” Kaelin pointed out. “Which is not the same.”
Talen turned to his sister. “Correct. I did. But you’ll be pleased to know she didn’t want the job, either. It took some convincing.”
Kaelin examined her nails with exaggerated interest, the telltale sign she didn’t like the direction of this conversation.
Talen refocused on his parents. “If we’re going to send Ren to bleed for the realm, the least we can do is offer her a decent meal and get to know our champion.”
Maelion frowned, glancing at Lyra. Lyra looked thoughtful, twirling the red wine in her hand.
Dangerously so.
“Appearance is everything,” Lyra murmured. “And we cannot appear ungrateful. It would be tasteless, uncouth.”
Kaelin let out a loud sigh. “This is going to be a disaster. She’s a nobody !”
“Most dinners with us are a disaster,” Talen quipped brightly. “But Ren has adequate table manners, I think.” He paused, then added as an afterthought, “And she only sets things on fire when absolutely necessary.”
Maelion stared at his son, not sharing an ounce of humor in his stone features, then finally gave a slow nod. “Very well. She may attend.”
Kaelin added sharply, “But she better dress properly.”
Talen clapped his hands once. “Excellent.”
Kaelin narrowed her eyes and said flatly. “You already invited her, didn’t you?”
Talen’s grin was positively sinful. “I might have sent a note. Because who can deny my powers of persuasion?”
Kaelin rolled her eyes. “Dear brother, you’re insufferable. ”
“And yet you keep inviting me to dinner,” he said, pivoting on his heel and striding from the chamber before anyone could change their mind.
Behind him, he swore he heard Lyra murmur, “Do make sure she bathes.”
And Kaelin’s response?
“She’d better not sit next to me.”
Talen smirked and held back a laugh. This was going to be fun.
Ren let out a sigh that could’ve shaken the rafters.
“Are all sentient wardrobes this indecisive?” she snapped, yanking the fifth dress over her shoulders for what felt like the hundredth time, “or is it just you?”
“Enchanted,” Mirella intoned with glacial offense, her carved edges gleaming under the lamplight. “Sentient is what they call furniture that’s been cursed by accident. I, darling, am a masterpiece of magical design. A legacy, if you will.”
Ren rolled her eyes so hard she was mildly impressed they didn’t pop out. “Well, this masterpiece is subjecting me to fabric-based torment. I’m two gowns away from losing my sanity to the gods.”
“You exaggerate.”
“I do no such thing.” Ren turned stiffly in front of the mirror, hands on her hips. “Well? Is this one finally good enough for your standards?”
Mirella tilted slightly, the faint creak of wood betraying thought. “If you didn’t look like you wanted to stab someone with a salad fork, then yes. That emerald brings out the amber in your eyes.”
“I hate how much the bodice is showing,” she muttered, tugging it up uncomfortably. “It’s so – ”
“Don’t pull! You have a more modest upper department, true, but in royal circles that’s a delicate feature. Understated elegance. And your skin is flawless. Truly. If I had hands, I’d applaud. ”
Ren let out another groan and dragged a comb through her hair with more force than necessary. Her stomach turned again, a slow churn of dread.
Dinner. With the king and queen.
Why now? Why her?
A trap, surely. Or a test. Something Kaelin had orchestrated just to watch her squirm.
Maybe it was revenge for the night before.
Ren could not recall much about making her way back to her chamber, but she did remember vaguely running into Kaelin.
The memory was a blur of sharp words and Ren’s own slurred bravado.
It killed Ren that she couldn’t remember exactly what they’d talked about.
Which meant it was probably bad.
“I don’t fit in with these people,” Ren blurted before she could stop herself. Her voice cracked. “I never will. I’ve got scars that’ll never fade. My skin isn’t perfect. My manners definitely aren’t. I don’t belong in these expensive dresses.”
Silence.
Even the flickering candlelight seemed to hold its breath.
Ren sighed again, this one softer. “I appreciate your help, Mirella. You’re probably the only one in this place who helps me without expecting something in return.
” She forced a half-smile. “But let’s not pretend I’ll ever look the part.
I’m sticking with this dress. Let’s just… get this over with.”
Mirella didn’t speak for a long moment.
Then, with the kind of exaggerated patience only furniture could muster, Mirella said, “Try the red one one more time. Just so I can see how it makes your skin glow.”
Ren groaned, dragging the dress over her head again. “I hope you get termites.”
Mirella’s hinges creaked with laughter. “Not in this grain, darling.”
With each step Ren took, the knot in her stomach pulled tighter .
She hated this.
She’d rather face a feral beast than walk into a room with a royal dinner table and Kaelin watching her like a hawk poised to tear flesh. Especially after last night.
Ren tried to focus on anything else. Maybe after this ordeal, she’d sneak down to the springs for a long soak. Or find Elira and convince her to have another night in the town that didn’t involve crowns and court politics.
But just as her nerves threatened to take over, Ren spotted Talen.
He was leaning casually against the wall, one foot crossed over the other, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He dressed in deep sapphire trimmed with silver thread.
“You clean up well,” he greeted, pushing off the wall and walking toward her.
His eyes lingered on the deep crimson of her gown.
“The color suits you. Dangerous and defiant.” Before she could retort, he reached for her hand and pressed a warm kiss to her knuckle, a hint of amusement lighting his features.
“Careful, Your Highness. If you keep this up, I might start thinking you’re charming.”
Talen grinned. “And that would be the end of me, wouldn’t it?”
Together, they approached the massive arched doors. A servant opened them with a bow, revealing a long dining hall. The table stretched nearly the length of the chamber, draped with crystal goblets and porcelain gleaming in the candlelight.
At its head sat Maelion. Lyra was beside him. And at the far end of the table, sat Kaelin. Kaelin was draped in a gown of twilight silk. On anyone else, it might have been simply beautiful. On Kaelin, it was armor disguised as allure.
For a moment, Ren remembered the other night. Heat pricked her cheeks even now, a flicker of shame.
As if summoned by the thought, Kaelin’s violet eyes slid toward her. There was the faintest curve at the corner of her mouth, a private reminder that she remembered all too well.
“Our guest of honor,” Maelion said. “Ren Harper, welcome. Please, join us.”
Ren swallowed hard and stepped into the lions’ den.
Of course, the only available seat was right next to Kaelin whose gaze could flay skin from bone.
Ren’s stomach twisted as she approached the table. Servants waited along the edges of the room. Talen pulled out her chair. Ren hesitated a moment before sinking into it, her fingers brushing against the velvet cushion.
“Thanks,” she murmured under her breath, then added, “Your Highness, sir, I mean.”
A low chuckle rumbled from Talen, but he said nothing.
Ren straightened her posture, trying not to fidget with the tight sleeves of her dress as her gaze flicked up and met the deliberate lift of Kaelin’s wine glass beside her.
“Lovely you could join us,” Kaelin remarked coolly.
“It is an honor to dine with you tonight,” Ren offered quickly.
A beat passed.
Then, mercifully, the doors opened, and more servants filed in.
Dishes were set before them – lemon-roasted chicken, golden potatoes dusted with herbs, soft buttered rolls, glazed root vegetables, and meats roasted with sprigs of rosemary and wild pepper.
Enough food to feed a dozen families for a week.
The scent should have made Ren’s mouth water, but Ren only took a sip of the ruby-red wine before her that was sweet and rich, like pomegranate and plum.
“You are doing House Vaelaran a great service,” Maelion said. “We offer this meal as a gesture of our thanks and our good faith.”
Ren inclined her head again. “Your Majesty, I’m grateful.”