Chapter 4 #2
The bright faerie is uncannily beautiful with hair of pure white piled high on her head and a gown of icy-blue silk, cut low over her breasts, revealing skin as milk-pale as Perl’s.
Her eyes are the same blue colour. On her lap is coiled a thick silver snake, which she pets like it is a kitten.
Its yellow-green eyes blink contentedly under soft strokes of the faerie’s bejewelled hand.
Clearly she is the Queen here. Another faerie kneels on a plump, silken cushion at her feet.
He has dark hair, worn long in a single braid that snakes across his shoulder.
His jaw is sharp and his brows are dark, defining a handsome face.
Is he the king? A Queen on a throne with a king on his knees?
Truly Kerik has never seen such a strangely perverse thing.
Although the dais is not bare of enthroned males.
On the Queen’s other side, sitting on a second, smaller throne is a faerie who Kerik takes to be some kind of prince.
He looks of a similar age to Kerik, which means, in reality, he must be a similar age to Perl.
His hair is gleaming gold. And not braided.
A tumble of waves, falling down over his shoulders.
He wears little on his upper body, some strips of ivory silk, held together with golden chains.
His pale chest is dusted with wisps of yellow hair.
The scraps of silk reveal the edge of one pink nipple and a heavy gold medallion studded with black diamonds.
His narrowed eyes have irises as dark as those diamonds.
He poses quite regally, although his legs are only clad in a small wrap of gold-fringed silk that barely covers his hips.
He wears golden heeled-boots, tight from his ankle, over his knees and ending at the middle of his thigh.
He has those booted-legs crossed with his sharp chin resting on one hand, elegant long fingers playing around at the corner of his mouth.
There is a haughty expression on his sharp face, which seems to be mostly directed at Perl.
But his gaze flickers from Perl to Kerik with a kind of idle fascination.
All the faeries on the dais, like all the faeries in the hall, are clothed richly, but quite lewdly. With low necklines and exposed flesh. Perl is dressed far more chastely than any other faerie in the hall without a single scrap of skin visible excepting his face and hands.
When Perl reaches a small square outlined in silver before the dais.
He stops on it and indicates with a hand for Kerik to stand behind him, just outside the silver square.
“Greetings, my Queen,” he says, “The fair Exeinil-que-zeren-ai, Perfection Beyond Comprehension. I return to pay tribute to you.” Perl bows low.
The faerie Queen in the centre of the dais, makes a gasping sound. She raises a hand to her forehead in mock shock. As Perl straightens, she says, “Perlash-zeren-ai, my once-favoured fae, so you have finally come back to us after so long.”
Her voice sounds sweet and musical.
Kerik tries to look at her while also keeping his gaze lowered.
At these close quarters she is even more astonishingly beautiful.
Every faerie on the dais is. Their clothing is so fine.
The Queen’s blue gown is heavy with jewels, the bodice covered with precious stones in white and blue.
The long skirts are made of silk so sheer it’s like a kind of mist. And the fabric is dotted all over with more tiny gemstones.
The wealth displayed in this single gown could buy a kingdom.
What kind of riches does the faerie realm have? This hall makes the Rose Palace look like a drab hovel.
The faerie prince with golden hair leans forward, chin still resting on his hand. He has a smirk on his face. There is something quite cold and cruel in it. “After you left in your rage, we all expected we’d never see you again, Perlash,” he says, sounding almost bored.
Beside him, the Queen turns with a rustle of gem-encrusted silk.
“Silence, Vanel-areti-ai. I am sure you are just as delighted as I to see Perlash here again, where he is meant to be.” She looks back at Perl.
“You know, Perlash, I had been long afeared that if you ever returned here I would be forced to take your head for leaving in such a fashion. But it seems things may have changed for you. Is that a thrall you have with you? A mortal thrall? Are you planning to introduce us to this beautiful creature?”
Perl turns to Kerik. He gestures to him. “Your Grand Majesty, may I present, a mortal treasure from Azuria. A fine beauty I discovered growing in that foul place like a sweet rose in horse shit.”
He nods. Kerik takes the hint and bows.
As he raises his head he sees the Queen smiling at him. “An Azurian? How exotic. And I am so glad in my heart to see that you have come around to the correct ways for a fae of your status. Let me see this creature in its correct position. Put it on its knees.”
Perl hisses, “Kneel before her, thrall.”
Kerik pauses, just for a moment, but long enough to see panic light Perl’s eyes. Funny to make him wonder for a moment if Kerik will actually do it.
Kerik steps forward onto the silver square and drops onto his knees beside Perl.
“Right down,” Perl says quietly.
Kerik glances at Perl before lowering his body until his forehead is on the floor. Perl really should have explained the protocol in more detail, but he assumes this is what he is meant to do.
While he’s still in position, able to see nothing but the glittering white floor, he hears a distinctive rustling sound and elegant, clicking footsteps. The Queen is coming down from the dais, walking towards him.
He hears her voice again, nearer this time. It still sounds like music. “It might be a pleasing looking mortal, but it isn’t very well trained. Thrall, up.”
It takes Kerik a moment to realise this last word is directed at him.
He kneels up, sitting back on his heels.
He keeps his gaze on the floor. Cool fingers touch his shoulder.
Then move. The Queen is walking around him.
He can see her beautiful skirts. “But that’s easily fixed. You ought to send it to the pit.”
“I cannot be without him. I am quite obsessed with him.”
The Queen laughs. “So, this is what you like. We’ve all been wondering. I am delighted to see how fine your taste in lovers has become.”
There is another rustling. Perl makes an odd, surprised grunt. Kerik glances up from the floor. The Queen is embracing a stiff-backed Perl.
Perl catches Kerik’s eye. He gives a small nod to indicate Kerik should look down. Kerik does so, and as he does, he hears the Queen say, “I knew those rumours about your nature being fixed weren't true. My own Perlash-zeren-ai.”
There are more snapping footsteps, as someone else approaches. A mocking voice says, “So, this is all it takes for you to allow Perlash back into Vylenor after all the disgrace he has brought you? A meaty mortal thrall?”
“A very attractive mortal thrall,” says the Queen.
“And with that all is forgotten?”
Kerik glances up again. The new speaker is the golden-haired prince who was on the dais.
The Queen says, “We will see. I am sure there will be no doubt that Perlash-zeren-ai is a true fae. Especially when he presents himself with such a delightful creature.”
“The Queen of the Timeless Court would take his head as an abhorration," says the golden-haired prince.
“This is not the Timeless Court,” says the Queen. “This is Vylenor.”
“Your Majesty, Prince Vanel,” says Perl with another bow. “I am here to beg forgiveness for leaving the Ice Court so abruptly and make my peace with the realm of Faerie before I return to the mortal lands. And before I do, I wish, humbly, to request a boon.”
The Queen’s face turns sour, “You are not here to stay?”
Perl looks uncomfortable, “Majesty, I cannot. My place is not here.”
The Queen’s face hardens slightly. “But you will stay a night at least. I will have your chambers prepared. Prince Vanel, see to it.”
“Me?” The golden-haired prince sounds quite indignant.
“Yes, you. Surely you are as delighted as I to have Perlash here. You can show him how welcome he is by ensuring he is comfortable.” She claps her hands.
“And to mark this moment, my own sweet family together and whole, I will throw a grand Silver Ball on the morrow in honour of this most blessed day.”
A murmur of excitement goes around the courtiers at this declaration. Kerik glances at Perl. He looks absolutely horrified. But he bows again, saying. “You honour me, Queen Exeinil, Perfection Beyond Comprehension.”
“And at the ball,” the Queen says, “you may request this boon of me.”