Chapter 16
As the herald ushered us into the salon, I briefly wondered if the man in livery was aware of Dion’s true nature, given the fact he’d addressed him by his full name and freaking title. And world. So, he had to be in the picture.
Ivreia didn’t have more royals than the king and queen anyway, except for the elderly mother of the king.
My pondering was stopped when the princeling tugged at my arm yet again.
We entered a room that wasn’t the throne hall, much to my relief, but a rather cozy salon, if calling a chamber dripping in luxury laid-back was even possible. Our suite was elegant, but in comparison to this place, the guest wing accommodations paled.
Parts of the furniture—some chairs and two chaises—were crafted from silver-painted wood and rich, deep blue upholstery. They were gathered around a small matching table, which was decked with a silken tablecloth, their hues corresponding.
A three-tiered serving plate, overflowing with all kinds of delicacies and dominating the table, was surrounded by dainty cups created of the same material—the finest bone china I’d ever laid my eyes on.
Tapestries, soft carpets, and heavy draped curtains followed the same royal blue and silver color scheme, but I stopped my observation when movement alerted me to the presence of the queen.
She was dressed in a rather simple mauve dress with a high neckline, long sleeves, and a small trail of embroidery adorning the hem.
The loose cut of the gown played around her figure but couldn’t conceal her advanced pregnancy.
Apart from a massive golden wedding choker decorated with diamonds and rubies, she wore no jewelry, and her rust-colored locks flowed freely down her back.
Her sparkling green eyes rested on Dion and me, and the smile on her youthful face radiated a friendliness that couldn’t be faked.
Queen Anneria had been half the age of King Pritatus when they had married, half a moon after the celebrations in honor of his fiftieth birthday last winter. This meant she was only slightly older than me.
Dion let go of my arm, sank into a graceful bow, and my breath caught.
When had he changed into his fae form? He must have dropped his Glamour right after we’d entered the salon. Unprepared as I was, the reminder of his otherness hit me like a punch in the gut.
Everything was more about him. More beautiful, more regal, more lethal. Even though the predator in him shone through when he wore his human disguise, once he abandoned the pretenses and showed his true colors, there was no denying the truth. Dion was dangerous—in so many ways.
Luckily, only moments after the confrontation with the beauty of the fae male and my distraction thereof, a small voice in the back of my head reminded me where I was and that I had to curtsy.
At least, that had been my plan. But in reality, I had the elegance of a cow, and I normally wasn’t confronted with situations requiring such reverence.
Of course, I gave my best, but a sharp breath escaped my lungs.
The unfamiliar movement had triggered a searing pain in my knee, likely a remnant of my time as Feroy’s prisoner.
Maybe no one had noticed.
However, this hope was in vain. Dion’s head spun around, staring at me with narrowed eyes before he remembered his manners and turned back to Queen Anneria. A cold shudder climbed up my spine—the prince’s expression had been downright murderous for a moment.
“Ah, nothing of that; sit down and get comfortable, the two of you.”
Queen Anneria’s voice had a melodic and self-confident ring to it. She sounded like someone who had found her place in life and enjoyed where she was. With one hand on her swollen belly, she sank onto one of the chaises, and I was surprised by the informality of how she lounged in front of us.
Her watchful eye stayed on me as I clumsily rose and steered to a chair across from her. But I never arrived at the piece of furniture because Dion grabbed my hand and hauled me next to him on the second chaise.
My reproachful glare was met by a lopsided grin—starring one of his damned dimples—and under every other circumstance, nothing would have prevented me from snapping at him. Swallowing a huff, it was clear that, against my earlier assumption, Dion hadn’t turned softer at all.
Queen Anneria laughed gently, and the mortification that the woman, who was the closest to a female holding something akin to real power in this world, had been witnessing our little scene sent my stomach churning. Could I please vanish into thin air?
“Thank you for the invitation, Queen Anneria.” Ah, Dion had found his manners.
“Please, call me Ann. Both of you.”
“Of course, Ann.”
Had the queen of Ivreia really asked not only Dion—a royal like her—but also me, a nobody, to approach her in such an offhand manner?
Overwhelmed, I developed a sudden interest in my shoes on the plush carpet and sat stiffly on the chaise while the fae prince next to me mimicked the queen’s relaxed posture. He had no care in the worlds.
“Tea?” Queen Anneria—no, Ann—offered. Without waiting for an answer, she reached for the exquisite teapot and began to fill the cups.
“You must excuse the absence of a servant, but my husband insisted we meet without staff or courtiers present. Nonsense, if you ask me. I never understood why we keep up this silly charade. For Amarion, doing so made some sense because he was grief-stricken, and maybe also for his successor, but nowadays?”
Oh gods, the queen was serving tea. My fingers twitched to take over, but the violet glow burning into my side was enough to fold my hands in my lap.
“Thank you. And if His Royal Majesty prefers our meeting this way, rest assured, I’m the last person to be offended by the absence of staff. Although I’m surprised he didn’t station guards along the walls. Your husband didn’t seem too happy when you told him about your desire to meet us.”
“Yes, your reputation makes him antsy. As tradition expects of him, he studied the old texts from a very young age. I don’t believe you’re shocked when I inform you that those accounts paint you in a rather unfavorable light.”
“Rightfully so.”
The sudden urge to shake some sense into Dion was overpowering. How could he look so calm—no, proud—when being confronted with his vile deeds?
“What I mean, Ann, is that as often as historians like to exaggerate the actions of a country’s—or world’s, in our case—enemy, in this scenario I can assure you that I’m not some misunderstood tragic figure used as a scapegoat by your ancestors.”
For a moment, Ann looked contemplative, but then her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “At least you’re honest about your transgressions.”
“Sitting in front of the one responsible for the massacre of Amalach doesn’t make you nervous. Why is that?”
“No. After your initial visit, I studied the Royal Protocol of Diplomatic Aid you referred to. That, and my rather good intuition, tells me you’re not here to hurt me or anyone at court.” Ann actually winked at the fae.
My head was spinning as I followed the conversation—the Queen trusted Dion more than I did, which was surprising. So much was going on in my mind, and being able to remain silent for the time being gave me an opportunity to calm my nerves.
“I’m curious what I’ll find if I pick your brain, Ann. What are your instincts saying concerning me and my motives?”
“There must be a very good reason that the infamous heir to the Eternal Throne came to visit Ivreia in the first place. My husband is worried about what this means for our world, but if you’d wanted to start a war, you would already have done so instead of searching for diplomatic immunity.”
A dark chuckle fell from Dion’s lips. “I won’t lie to you, your world is in danger. But not because of me. Galanta is as well.”
“And that brought you here?”
“In a way, yes.”
“That makes sense. Something has been stirring for quite a while. My husband—sometimes, I don’t recognize him anymore.”
“What do you mean?” Dion’s brow furrowed into a frown, and I had to bury the urge to smooth out his forehead to distract myself from the anxious energy coursing through my veins.
“At irregular intervals, he retreats into his offices for days. Alone. No one, neither the staff nor I, is allowed inside his study during such an episode. And afterward, he doesn’t remember anything and is in denial about these happenstances.”
“What if someone tries to enter the rooms?”
“The doors are locked.”
“And if you use force?”
“So far, I’ve refrained from such drastic measures. I’m worried, but since he always returns unharmed, I’m not comfortable breaking in and violating his privacy.”
“Well, I assure you, the culprit is neither me nor one of my comrades.”
“Of course not. Even if I were wary of you, those incidents began before you arrived in Ivreiana. Long before that. Almost a winter ago.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes. Sometimes, he gets those irrational fits of anger. Locks people up in the dungeons for the most trivial offenses. Like his personal waiter, who served him for over twenty winters. His crime? He tripped and almost dropped an empty saucepan on his way to the kitchens. Pritatus never behaves this way toward me, but I wonder if it’s only a question of time until that changes. ”
“What do your spies report?”
“That’s the thing. They didn’t find anything suspicious. From the outside, nothing is different.”
“That’s worrisome indeed. I’d like you to monitor the situation closely, especially after our departure.”
“Of course. Are you planning to leave our court soon?”
“Yes. Nayana is recovering nicely, and we have our own mission. But I’d very much prefer to stay in contact, Ann.”
“Yes, me too, Dion.”
The fae prince nodded. “But enough about politics. You requested this meeting because you wanted to acquaint yourself with Nayana, if I remember correctly.”
“You do.” Ann’s eyes searched my gaze, and I barely managed to face her. “Hello Nayana. There’s no need to be nervous.”