Chapter 16 #2
She occasionally introduced me to a few other servants, whose names I struggled to keep up with, especially because we were all dressed in similar shades of blue, making distinguishing each other limited to our faces.
One male eyed me longer than necessary, and his unguarded thoughts made it clear he found me attractive, a fact I might later need to exploit.
Almost every single servant was thin, some rippling with the sinewy muscle that came from heavy labors.
It seemed they were fed just enough to keep them capable of doing their duties.
Shira, as the head of lady’s maids, must no doubt be given extra portions and liberties to be as shapely as she was.
When El finally became distracted from being my tour guide, I took the opportunity to make my way back to the main castle with every intention of getting my eyes on that dinner party and witnessing Gia’s interactions firsthand.
I also hoped that I’d somehow get eyes on Cairis, too.
I’m sure he was fine, but I’d feel more at ease seeing him safely installed in his position.
My mind wandered to Nori, who was unlikely to be at this event since healers would only be called upon when needed.
And above all, I thought of Varro finally reuniting with his beloved sea and hoped it would bring him comfort in my absence.
The ballroom was a bustling scene of loud music, Artumian banners hanging from every archway, and golden platters filled with decadent displays of gluttony.
Wine flowed from every goblet, and at the head of the table sat King Silas.
To his left was a stunning and regal female with deep ebony skin wearing a luxurious, all-black gown.
She was dripping in heavy golden necklaces and braided metals adorned in rubies, emeralds, sapphires, and other bright stones.
Atop her head was a similarly-fashioned crown.
The accessories appeared heavy enough to topple one of the Kingsguard, yet she sat there statuesque and unyielding—the picture of a queen.
Her expression was cold, unimpressed, certainly not one of revelry and joy.
The reason for her sour demeanor…Gia, the king’s consort who sat directly to his right. Gia was wearing purple, a stark contrast to many of the king and queen’s inner circle of nobles who all wore black. Had she worn the color to stand out? Was it a protest, or was it an order?
The dining hall itself was as long as it was wide, similar to the estate at the Canary Veil.
The level above served as a balcony, allowing for a full view below.
I paced slowly through the upper balcony, occasionally pausing to stand behind a column and peer down inconspicuously.
I studied the dynamics of the other nobles who sat at the head tables.
Which ones eyed Gia with judgement? As I continued to scan the room for my bulky, long-haired friend, I was startled as the band suddenly picked up tempo, followed by a troupe of dancers that came rushing into the center of the room.
They moved in synchronous steps, performing a choreographed dance for the onlookers.
The lightweight fabrics of their costumes covered very little skin, and you could see the curves and dips of their flesh with each seductive movement.
The queen stared forward, unflinching. Her mouth set into a rigid line while Silas smiled gleefully, even letting out a whoop and a holler in between large gulps of wine.
His posture relaxed lazily into his towering chair.
Gia nudged him playfully, pointing at certain dancers to draw his attention.
She leaned her body into him, offering a full view of her exposed cleavage, and even was so bold as to place her hand atop his.
Silas’ already warm-colored skin flushed.
Perhaps from the wine, maybe from the exotic dancers, but I’d wager it was Gia’s attention filling his ego to the brim.
In an unexpected shift of events, the dancers began to writhe and sway with one another, the dance becoming more carnal, the music fluid like their bodies.
Gia stood from her seat at the dinner table and made her way to the dance floor; the only noble to do so while the performance carried on.
She imitated their movements, and slowly, gracefully, eased her way in between two of the female dancers.
I continued to pace my way toward the next podium, trying to ensure that no one would catch me staring at the events of the party rather than attending to my duties.
Gia’s skill blended in with that of the professional dancers, the rich violet standing out amongst the green-clad performers.
I watched on, mesmerized at her bold act of seduction.
She stared Silas down with each swish of her hips and wave of her arms, pulling him into a trance like they were the only two people in the room—as if his wife weren’t seated directly next to him.
It was abundantly clear that Silas made no secret of his playthings, and at the expense of embarrassing his wife in front of the entire court.
What a miserable existence she must have, but mentally, I was applauding Gia.
Even with the loud music echoing throughout the room, beneath the melodies I could hear the chaotic buzz of people’s unfettered thoughts.
The music drowned out any clarity, so I’m certain even if Silas was listening, he couldn’t make any of them out or be certain of who might be thinking ill of Gia’s impromptu performance.
In a complete lack of restraint, Gia clasped a dancer’s face in her hands and pulled her in for a sensuous kiss.
To some it may have seemed brief, but to those of us really watching, that suggestive act, in front of the king and the rest of the court, was the longest kiss we’d ever witnessed.
The dancer seemed to be in a fog when Gia pulled her mouth away and then looked over her shoulder back at the king with a flirty smile.
The queen’s posture stiffened, revulsion pulling at the fine features of her face.
So much tension swirled in the room below.
Fury from the queen. Desire without restraint from the king.
Envy from the other ladies seeking the affections and favor of Silas.
But there was one male who did not bear a single hint of expression—Zarif.
He sat at the far end of the king’s table, his meal untouched and his goblet still filled to the brim.
Zarif was unreadable, but I feared for Gia’s safety as his icy gaze fell upon her and the other dancers.
When the festivities died down, nobles began to give their parting gratitude to one very intoxicated king and made their exit for the evening.
The queen had long since gone to bed, leaving Silas with a handful of his most roused and obnoxious friends, who had taken up seats at the head table.
They nibbled on leftovers while drinking every last drop of wine from the former occupants’ cups.
They should thank the Gods they were still surrounded by a number of well-armed Kingsguards, because none of them stood a chance of defending themselves in their current state.
Gia whispered something in the king’s ear and ran her hand along his chest before making her way toward the staircase.
I took that as my sign to quickly make my way back to her room to await her instruction.
Gia entered the room looking a bit sweaty and disheveled from her antics. Once again, she locked the door behind her and scurried to her dressing table.
“Help me get my hair out of this braid, it won’t be long before the king calls on me.”
I began to loosen sections of hair quickly while she powdered her face in the mirror.
“You’re really incredible,” I whispered, trying to tell her everything I felt about what I had seen her pull off at dinner.
She was so much better at this than me. Her deceptions and manipulations seemed to come easily to her.
She fell into character with a natural grace I envied.
And not because we wanted to be the kind of Fae we were pretending to be, but because we knew it was the key to our survival and, therefore, the preservation of our kingdom.
But while I envied her ability to fully submit to the mission, I knew there were parts of this, the part I was now preparing her for, that I did not envy at all.
Tasks that I feared I couldn’t bring myself to do if called upon.
As I helped Gia into a set of lingerie and a lightweight silk robe, I began to feel my insides twist with regret for the act she had to perform—one she’d already been performing.
Gia was quiet and focused, steadfast on her task.
I had so many questions for her, and I’d love nothing more than to get to spend all night with her in that room going over everything each of us had missed.
Her time in Nasallus, my time at Basdie.
Our time apart, so different, and yet, she was the only one who could understand or relate to what I’d been going through with Varro.
“I can’t believe you have to dress up like this for him,” I muttered in annoyance while continuing to help lace her up. “He doesn’t deserve you.”
“Stop!” Gia snapped. “I prefer it. It’s my costume. My armor.” She paused a moment. “It’s a reminder that none of this means a fucking thing.”
I lowered my gaze in regret for having clearly struck a nerve.
It was so easy for me to forget Gia had been going at this alone all this time.
Without another familiar or friendly face.
Forced to bed a stranger…an enemy. I should have known better.
This was a ritual for her. Something that allowed her to disassociate from herself.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I—”
She interrupted me before I could continue with my apologetic ramblings.
She turned to face me now that I had tied off her corset, reaching for the robe to tie around her.
Her expression intense, etched into her face like stone.
She was a warrior dressed in delicate armor of lace and silk, strings and bows.
A deadly snake, ready to slither up next to its prey, wrap itself gently around it and squeeze ever so slowly, beginning as a cool embrace and ending in bone-crushing constriction.
“Tomorrow is the sabbath. Make sure you bring your moonstone.”
“Wait. What?” I asked trying to understand what that meant, but Gia began to make her way to her door. Before she unlocked the door to make her exit, she glanced at me over her shoulder; a devious, penetrating gaze staring back at me.
“In the morning, we discuss how we’re going to kill the queen.”