Chapter 4 Freshly Baked Dessert
Verena
The Eve of Dryston’s Coronation
The royal family hereby requests your presence for the Royal Gala in celebration of the Prince Dryston Whitewell’s coronation.
T he highly anticipated gala was mere hours away. The past week had been a grueling one, with endless preparations and demands to ensure its success. I long for the event to be over so I can finally rest before taking on my duties as queen. My heels click frantically against the marble floors, creating a staccato rhythm that echoes through the halls, and drawing curious gazes from those around me. I bark out orders to the staff, maintaining a respectful tone despite my haste. It was all hands on deck to make this night a memorable one for all in attendance.
The cooks are profusely preparing a feast large enough for hundreds of people. I will be sure to give them all time off for a bit when it’s all over. But the smells? Delicious. Our chef is phenomenal as always. I can easily get lost in the way bread smells and it made the bakeries by far my favorite section of town .
I greet people with a smile as I pass our temporary guests, stressing over the days event.
The king of Khyrel still has yet to arrive and Dryston is getting antsy, which of course makes me nervous. With Mya taking up his nights, leaving me in peace before the building stressful days— one after the next.
“I need to get this garnet color up completely. His Majesty was very specific.” I tell Mya, who lately has had a scowl on her face but I genuinely do not care enough to ask. She has never seemingly cared for me, only being here out of some duty chosen by the prince. It grates my nerves and that is probably the reason he made her my ladysmaid.
“Yes, Verena.” She huffs and I stop in my tracks, eyeing the surrounding beings before gracefully pulling her to the side.
“What in Sorin’s name is the matter with you? Are you not thankful to work in the castle? Are you not thankful to be my ladysmaid? I am so kind to you and you seem to treat me with such disrespect.” I lightly snap at her, crossing my arms over my chest as I await her response.
“Nothing, princess. Of course I want to be here.” She answers, not looking in my face but I see the look of discontent, the challenge in her eyes, the formal way she carries herself. She was not bred for being staff and now my curiosity consumes me on why she is here.
I calm myself before saying anything more as Hadeon stands to the side, allowing us a private discussion.
“Mya. If you are not happy with your placement, I will speak to the future king about gracing his mother with your presence instead or one of the Ladies of the court. I do not wish to force you into anything you do not care for.”
She looks at me now, staring into my eyes, searching for what, I do not know. It feels as if time slips by us as we stand still. One of my brows remains raised, as if challenging her myself. Then, as if it never happened, she blinks the condescending look away and looks at the floor. “No, Princess Verena. I wish to stay with you. My apologies for my behavior, this week has been stressful and as I am sure you know, the future king is not easy to please.” There’s a smirk that she tries to keep off her face but I see the twitch in her lips as her eyes keep to the floor.
It is not what she says, it’s how she says it that triggers something as red as blood in me. The dig, as if she finds me weak for allowing the prince to find solace in other women. I smile brightly, instead of the wanted reaction I am sure she waits for.
“Very well.” I smile so big, as if I had the best news, “I do hope we become friends. It is always easier when you have someone in your corner when he decides he no longer wants to waste his time with women who hold no actual purpose in his life.” Her lips tilt downward and I turn from her, seeing Hadeon’s smirk before continuing on my mission to get tonight and tomorrows list of to-do’s done. All my decorating will be finished by the time tomorrow comes and then I can finally rest.
* * *
A red tint dusts my dress. The feel of the silk fabric brushes my soft skin and I revel in the feel of it. I chose the color after Dryston changed his mind about the scheme. It was supposed to be a dark green but my last minute change at the modiste pulled through to the dark garnet hue. Tradition always has the queen or future queen match the theme of the event.
Tonight should flow smoothly.
I excused Mya from helping me get ready tonight, not needing it and honestly not wanting it.
The slash on my cheek was now gone, healed by my fae body.
With steady hands, I trace the charcoal pencil along my lashline, darkening my eyes and adding a sultry edge to my appearance. Next, I carefully brush on the rouge to my cheeks, creating a subtle flush of color. My lips are stained in a deep red, giving them a luscious, inviting look. Finally, I run my fingers through my long black hair, smoothing out any tangles and arranging it into loose waves that cascade down my back.
As I step into the dress, I can’t help but feel like a goddess. The deep v-neckline shows off my décolletage while the open back reveals smooth, bare skin. Thin straps crisscross over my back, adding an intricate touch to the otherwise simple design. The fabric clung to my curves in all the right places, accentuating my figure. And then there is the high slit — just enough to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of leg without being too revealing.
I wish I could arrive without shoes on my feet, but Dryston would lose his mind.
I take one last glance in the mirror, satisfied with the way I look. With a confident smile, I head out for the evening’s festivities.
I open the door to my chambers to reveal Hadeon dress in his royal guard uniform. The deep jade color brightening his eyes.
His intense gaze fixes on me, causing a rosy tint to bloom on his cheeks. He stumbles over his words, unable to find the right ones to express what he sees. I chuckle softly at his flustered state. “You look stunning,” he finally manages to say before gesturing for me to lead the way.
We enter the grand throne room, where all of our royal events take place. The expansive space is furnished with elegant tapestries and sparkling chandeliers, creating an atmosphere fit for a queen.
As I step inside, the herald announces my name and title, causing curious eyes to turn toward me. But most of the attendees already know who I am — the prince’s betrothed. Not necessarily a captivating title but I was going to be their queen and that gave me a certain level of respect and understanding.
My eyes sweep over the grand hall, taking in my finished work. The rich hues of red and gold drape gracefully over the beams, casting a warm glow throughout the space. Delicate candles twinkle on every surface, adding to the enchantment of the room. And in the midst of it all stands Dryston’s approved decor, complete with a touch of vibrant light green that ties the whole design together.
I spot Dryston conversing with a Lord and make my way toward them, Hadeon following close behind. As I approach, I give a respectful curtsy before addressing Dryston. “Your Majesty,” I say, my voice steady, despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach.
His gaze lingers on me for a moment before turning back to the conversation at hand. He doesn’t seem as pleased as I had hoped, but he also doesn’t look disapproving. At least not yet. Turning to address the Lord, I smile brightly and offer a polite greeting.
“My Lord,” I greet him with a bright smile, hoping to mask any signs of anxiety. “It is an honor to have you here to celebrate this wondrous occasion. I trust Lady Jacoby was able to join us as well?” My words are polite and carefully chosen, reflecting the grace and poise expected of me as an event planner for the royal court.
He smiles back, pleased with my attention and appearance. “She did. My lady is off with the others, gossiping, no doubt,” He laughs. Dryston motions for me to make my rounds so I take my leave and do just that, greeting familiar and unfamiliar faces.
In the lively and bustling room, I retreat to a quiet corner and savor the smooth burn of bourbon as I observe the revelry around me. The band’s melodies fill the space, inviting people to sway and twirl on the dance floor. My senses are overwhelmed by the intoxicating combination of music, tantalizing food scents, vibrant sights, animated chatter, and alluring perfumes. The rich warmth of bourbon coursing through my body soothes and comforts me.
Hadeon, my companion for the evening, is nearby charming a pixie from our court. He periodically glances toward me, making sure I am well in his absence.
It’s nice.
Until it isn’t.
As darkness creeps into the room, a hush falls over the crowd, with only the lively music of the band continuing to fill the space. Goosebumps prickle along my skin, but it’s not from the cold, nor is it the same dreadful chill from Dryston I am use to.
The grand doors swing open, revealing the Herald, his staff hitting the ground with a resounding thud as he announces the arrival of our guest. “May I present King Eryx of Khyrel.” The heavy doors slam shut behind him, cutting off any outside noise and amplifying the tension in the room.
As the people around him turn to stare, Dryston’s sharp gaze fixes on the approaching king in a show of respect. I follow his lead and make my way toward them, but as Dryston catches my eye from behind the imposing figure of the Dark King, he subtly shakes his head at me. Taking the cue, I shift my path and continue forward with purpose, each step closer to the throne room as it fills with tension and anticipation. The air is thick with a mix of awe and fear, as all eyes are fixed on the meeting between two powerful rulers.
* * *
The first dance of the night consists of the King— or in this case, soon-to-be— and whomever he chooses. Since I am his betrothed, it is naturally me.
Dryston leads me to the middle of the dance floor as the band prepares for the next song. I chose it to be the same song we first danced too, wanting to be a little romantic in my softer heart.
He takes my right hand in his left and places his right hand on my hip, fingers delicately playing with the skin of my bare back. Dryston pulls me closer. “This dress is dangerous, Verena.” His voice deepens and sends a rush of tingles down to my stomach mixing with the booze.
“I hoped you’d like it. I had it made with you in mind.” A blush creeps along my chest up to my cheeks, the overwhelming need to gain his approval burning my skin from the inside out. “I wasn’t sure red would look this nice on me.”
“I prefer pink on you, you know that. I forget how beautiful you are until we have events like this and then I get a lovely reminder.” He speaks low, his fingers still rubbing small circles on my back as we dance together.
I take note of everyone’s reactions; the smiles and whispers about how perfect we are together. But it doesn’t flood me with the sensation of pride it use to.
I can’t help but stew on his words. He is complimenting me but why does it feel as though he is insulting me? Was it the answer I wanted? Of course not. But he gets busy and we rarely see each other .
But… then why do I feel as though his touch is suddenly making me sick? A wave of nausea hits me as I force it back, smiling through the feeling taking over.
The dance ends and as he bows his head, I curtsy, then we walk our separate ways.
The ladies joining us, who are not married, usually have to accept dances from everyone who asks. But, even as an adolescent, I was never asked by anyone other than Dryston himself since we are engaged to be married. Dryston refuses to let anyone else dance with me—always has. He said it was disrespectful for anyone to dance with me because it meant they thought they had a chance.
I quickly down another glass of bourbon, hoping to drown out my nerves. As I glance up from the beverage table, I am met with a pair of mesmerizing dark brown eyes, penetrating me as they study my every move.
Couples twirl and sway on the dance floor, their laughter and joy filling the air. Meanwhile, Dryston is deep in conversation with his mother and some important Lords. Hadeon continues to charm and flirt with a pixie, leaving me alone with the Dark King.
My gaze remains locked onto his, unable to tear away. Despite my fear, I can’t help but admire his tall stature, chiseled physique, and strikingly handsome features.
He is quite literally the most beautiful being I have ever laid eyes on. In that moment, time seems to stand still and I find myself holding my breath in awe of him.
His ebony eyes seem to absorb all light around them. His tousled jet black hair cascades over his forehead, giving him a effortlessly handsome appearance. As I look at him, I can’t help but wonder if he just woke up or had the most passionate lovemaking session of his life. The thought sends shivers down my spine and a wave of red-hot envy surges through me.
I find myself subconsciously tracing my fingers over my birthmark, hidden under my dress. The small bird shaped patch on my hip always brings me comfort, but in this moment it seems to be pulsing with an intensity that matches my own racing heartbeat. As I take a deep breath and remind myself to remain calm, the air fills my lungs and replaces the dizzying sensation that had taken over me for a moment.
I open my mouth to speak, to greet him, but he spills words out between us before I can make a sound.
“Dance with me.” Unlike when Dryston tells me things, this is not as much a command as it is a request— one brimming with need in his liquor colored eyes.
But, almost as if my brain stops working, I stand frozen. Shadows billow around him and it’s then I notice his High Fae gift is shadow manipulation.
He works his way from the other side of the table to mine and gently takes my much smaller hand in his tan muscular one. He’s wearing formal clothes, perfect for a ball but seemingly less uptight than everyone else here. His black button up shirt reveals a part of his chest, also muscular and littered with tattoos. I can feel the heat spill from him, adding to the bourbon effects.
The Dark King leads me to the dance floor and people seem to notice immediately before parting the way for us in hushed, confused whispers.
I feel Dryston’s eyes burn into me but I can’t convince myself to look at him and see the disappointment in them.
The kings left hand stays with my right and he pulls me close, the scent of him consumes me.
The concoction of maple and brown sugar make the air taste like cookies and waffles. I take a deep breath in, hoping he doesn’t think I’m smelling him even though I definitely am trying to engrave this scent to memory. It smells like… home. A home— something foreign to me my entire life.
Our eyes meet again and in no time, our feet are moving in precise synchronicity. Like we’ve danced together a million times before. I hadn’t realized he already placed his right hand in a respectful position on my back. Others dance around us, even as their eyes follow our movements.
I’ve danced with a total of four people in my entire lifetime; my father, my mother, Dryston, and now this male. This Dark King Eryx that looks like heaven and hell— that smells intoxicatingly like freshly baked dessert.
Our movements are fluid and smooth, just as smooth as the dress. My body is hot and I can’t help but feel moisture between my thighs, suddenly needing a relief. My chest rises and falls in heavy and hasty succession.
Why am I acting like this? What has come over me?
His fingers twitch on my bare skin and my breath hitches in my throat until the song ends, and our feet stop moving. The bottom of my dress swishes against my skin from the sudden motion.
He lets go of my body before catching my left hand in the same one that graced my back, bringing it to his lips as his darkened eyes stay locked on mine like they had this entire dance. “You are truly breathtaking, Princess Verena.” He plants a kiss on the back of my hand, then again just past the first row of knuckles. I let out a shaky breath, freezing on the spot while my blood runs cold when my eyes find his tattooed hand just as it releases mine.
He takes a step back and leaves me alone surrounded by guests. My entire body flushes in a deep blush. My hands are as shaky as my breathing. My heart thunders inside my chest cavity.
It feels as if ice water is poured over me. His hand. The markings.
It is an exact replica of the hand from my dream— the same dream that has haunted me for a decade.