Chapter 13 Dominic
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DOMINIC
Three days passed with meals shared together in our suite and days spent investigating the wilted plants and giggling, without coming to any new conclusions.
We questioned everyone who might have contact with our food and beverages, but found no correlation between them. That’s when we decided it must be someone using magic or lacing food and drink with something that can cause uncontrollable laughter.
At the end of each day, we’d sit on the balcony or in front of the fire and have long conversations about everything from court politics to childhood memories, each moment shadowed by the awareness of what happened outside our bedroom doors.
We’d been careful. No more kisses and no repeat of that explosive passion. We were building something slower, more intentional.
It was driving me slowly mad.
“You’re staring,” Sasha said from where she sat on the sofa on the fourth morning. We’d decided we’d dine downstairs this morning, and she was waiting for me to finish some paperwork at my desk.
Which I hadn’t gotten done.
“Am I?” I asked.
“You’ve been staring at that piece of paper for at least ten minutes.” Amusement shone in her eyes. “Either it’s fascinating, or you’re distracted.”
“Maybe it’s a very interesting note from one of my advisors.”
“Is it a philosophical one? A note with hidden depths?”
“You guessed it.” I grinned. “It’s a contemplative note. Very deep.”
Actually, it discussed what decorations we might want to use for the ball we’d host after the festival.
Sasha laughed, and the sound made my chest warm.
“We should probably discuss the festival preparations,” she said. “It’s only a week away.”
“Must we?”
“You’re the king. Festival oversight is literally your responsibility.”
“I’m aware.” I sighed dramatically. “But discussing municipal planning is significantly less interesting than watching you.”
Color touched her cheeks. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I prefer charmingly attentive.”
“That’s not what I’d call it.”
“Then what would you call it?”
She considered while stroking Savory’s spine. “Distractingly focused.”
“I like that better. It sounds mysterious.”
“It sounds like you’re not paying attention to important court matters.”
“On the contrary, I’m paying very close attention to the most important matter in this court, such as the strategic witch who keeps pretending she doesn’t notice me staring.”
Sasha lifted her eyebrows. “I notice.”
“Good.” I leaned back in my chair. “Would you like to know what I’m thinking when I stare?”
“Maybe?”
“I’m thinking about how you scrunch your nose when you’re analyzing something. How you touch your locket when you’re nervous. The way you braid your hair more tightly when you’re stressed. I’m memorizing details because I’m terrified I’ll miss something important.”
“Dominic—”
“I’m also thinking about kissing you again,” I said. “Fairly constantly, actually.”
She pressed back against the sofa cushions. “That’s distracting.”
“Is it working?”
“I believe it is.”
We shared a look loaded with unspoken heat. Three days of careful distance had only intensified the attraction between us.
“Perhaps we should go to breakfast,” I said when what I wanted to say was, can I kiss you again?
She rose. “Perhaps we should.”
We made our way down to the main dining room, Savory gliding ahead of us through the corridors. The morning light streamed through the tall windows, making everything feel bright and normal. Such a relief.
The dining room was already occupied when we arrived.
My mother sat in her usual place along one side, serene as always in a gown of deep blue.
Lady Kenneth had claimed the seat to her right and was already working through a plate of eggs and meat rashers.
Lord Turren occupied the opposite side, his mirror propped against his tea cup while he examined his reflection between bites.
“Good morning,” my mother said. “How lovely to see you both.”
“Mother.” I waited while a chair pulled back for Sasha. Once she’d settled, I took my own seat beside her. “You’re up early.”
Savory landed on a sideboard, eyeing the platter of pastries in the center of the table. I shook a finger her way in warning.
“I’ve always preferred morning hours for breakfast. The light is better for reading.
” Mother gestured to the book beside her plate.
“I’ve been working through this treatise on ancient fae governance structures.
Fascinating stuff, though the author has some questionable opinions about succession laws. ”
Lady Kenneth looked up from her meal. “Your Majesties. I was hoping to catch you today. I wanted to extend that sparring invitation again, Lady Sasha. My schedule is open most days if you’re interested.”
“That sounds fun, and we should make an appointment,” Sasha said. “Though I should warn you, I’m better with strategy than actual combat.”
“Strategy is half the battle.” Lady Kenneth’s smile rose. “The rest is just execution. I’ll reach out when I have my calendar in hand.”
“Yes, do.”
Lord Turren finally looked up from his mirror, smoothing his perfectly arranged purple hair. “Your Highness, I must say, that gown is absolutely stunning on you. The deep rose brings out your complexion marvelously. I’m taking notes.”
“Thank you.” Sasha blinked twice, clearly unsure how to respond to that. “I appreciate the observation.”
“The cut is exquisite,” he said, leaning forward. “Who’s your seamstress? I’d love to commission something similar. Perhaps in lavender? Or would that clash with my natural coloring?”
“I think lavender would look wonderful on you,” Sasha said.
Servants appeared, directing pots of fresh tea and platters of food to the table with magic. I watched carefully as they served, noting who touched what and looking for any signs of tampering. Everything appeared normal. The tea smelled right, the food looked properly prepared.
I lifted a cup of tea, inhaling the familiar scent of the spring harvest blend, finding no trace of that wrongness I’d noticed before.
Sasha took primwort again, adding her usual dash of cream.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” my mother said, buttering a piece of toast, “how are the festival preparations coming along? I know you’ve been occupied with other matters, but we’re running short on time.”
“The preparations are on schedule,” I said. “Though the plant situation is still concerning. We haven’t made much progress there.”
“The cosmic energies have been particularly turbulent lately,” Lady Edwina announced, sweeping into the dining room with Lord Primrose and Lady Daphnie trailing behind her.
Her yellow gown jingled with protective amulets as she moved around the table to an empty chair.
“My divination stones suggest that we’re approaching a moment of great revelation.
” She settled into the chair, her velvet pouch of stones clutched in one hand. “Though the timing remains unclear.”
“When is the timing ever clear with divination?” Lady Kenneth asked, though her tone held more amusement than criticism.
“The fates reveal their truths in their own timeframe,” Lady Edwina said with dignity. “We merely remain open to receiving their wisdom.”
Lady Lydia Featherby hurried into the dining room, slightly out of breath, her pale-blue gown adorned with tiny, embroidered flowers rustling as she moved. Her braids, woven through with matching blue butterflies, swayed as she settled into a chair near Lady Edwina.
Staff quickly served her tea, and she took a long swallow before placing her cup back in its saucer.
“Good morning, everyone,” she said in a cheery voice.
“I’m so sorry I’m late. I was preparing a special digestive tonic for Lord Harwick’s stomach troubles.
” She pulled a small collection of vials from her purse and arranged them neatly beside her plate.
“Speaking of which, Your Majesty,” she directed this to Sasha, “how are you adjusting to our court cuisine? Sometimes rich fae foods can upset delicate witch constitutions. I have a lovely mint preparation that works wonders for—”
Her words dissolved into giggles, her eyes widening with alarm as uncontrollable laughter bubbled up from her chest. She pressed a hand to her mouth, looking mortified.
“Oh dear,” she managed between chuckles, reaching for one of her vials with trembling hands. “This is most irregular. I have something for this, I’m certain I do.” But her attempts to select the right remedy were frustrated by continued bursts of laughter that shook her small frame.
The sight of the court’s caretaker dissolving into helpless giggles made the situation both concerning and absurd.
Lady Featherby swallowed hard and wiggled her neck for a moment before her face cleared. “Good, it’s gone.”
Maybe this wasn’t related to our court’s giggling problem.
Lord Primrose, who’d claimed the seat beside Lady Featherby, pressed his hand against his chest. “My dearest Daphnie and I were just discussing the most romantic aspects of morning dew on rose petals. Like tears of joy shed by the garden itself, celebrating the eternal dance of passion and devotion.”
“I told him it was more like diamonds scattered by a generous lover,” Lady Daphnie, who sat on his other side, said. She tapped his arm with the tip of her jeweled fan. “Each droplet is a precious gift bestowed upon nature’s beauty.”
“Both interpretations hold merit,” Lord Primrose said. “Which is why we’re so perfectly matched. Our souls speak the same poetic language, just with different metaphors.”
Sasha caught my eye, amusement dancing in her eyes. I bit back a smile.
“The lemon cakes are exceptional this morning,” my mother said. “Alaina and her staff have outdone themselves.”
“I’ll try them.” I added one to my plate and one to Sasha’s at her nod.
I took a bite of eggs, savoring the perfectly seasoned flavor. Everything tasted normal. No hint of anything off or wrong.
Sasha ate as well, working through her breakfast with the same approach she applied to everything.
Lord Turren consulted his mirror between every few bites.
Lady Kenneth discussed weapon maintenance techniques with my mother, who listened with the patience of someone who’d survived decades of court conversations.
“The indigo stone is showing unusual energy patterns,” Lady Edwina said, studying the stones she’d strewn out beside her plate. “Combined with the rose quartz positioning, this suggests imminent emotional upheaval. Or perhaps unexpected joy? The distinction is sometimes difficult to determine.”
“Perhaps both,” Lady Daphnie said. “Like the bittersweet ache of a lover’s farewell before a joyous reunion.”
“Precisely.” Lord Primrose beamed at her. “You understand the nuances of cosmic interpretation so perfectly, my darling. It’s like watching a nightingale comprehend the songs of wolves.”
Lady Kenneth coughed, covering a laugh.
The meal continued, staff refilling tea and bringing out fresh platters of pastries. Conversation flowed, touching on everything from upcoming court events to observations about the unseasonably warm weather.
I began to relax. Maybe one issue was over. Whatever had caused the giggling could’ve resolved itself, or the contamination had worked its way out of the food supply.
Then my mother giggled, a soft sound at first, barely noticeable. She held her napkin to her mouth, her eyes widening.
“Oh dear,” she said. “I’m not sure why that happened.”
Lord Turren’s laugh burst out next, startling him so much he almost dropped his mirror. “No, no, no. I was just starting to see improvement in my complexion.”
Giggles erupted from Lady Kenneth’s throat. She set down her fork, her long sigh ringing out.
Lady Edwina dissolved into helpless laughter, her amulets jingling with each shake of her shoulders. “The stones predicted upheaval, but I didn’t expect—” Another giggle cut her off.
Lord Primrose and Lady Daphnie began laughing in unison, which somehow made it worse. They reached for each other, their dramatic declarations of love interrupted by uncontrollable chuckles.
The first bubble of mirth rose in my chest and I tried to suppress it. I failed. A giggle escaped, then another.
Sasha’s hand flew to her mouth. Her dark eyes met mine, shock written across her features as laughter spilled through her fingers.
The dining room dissolved into chaos, everyone laughing while servants looked on with concern.
Sasha stood and grabbed my hand.
“Outside,” she said. “We need to—”
Another wave of laughter cut off whatever she’d been about to say.