Chapter 7 #3
There was something familiar about him, I thought, as my eyes traced the straight line of his nose and the sharp angles of his cheekbones.
I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. His dark green doublet reminded me of the evergreens dotting the castle downs, the fabric tailored perfectly to his lean frame.
He wore no crown, but it was clear from the effortless way he held the attention of the crowd that he was important.
He inclined his chin, catching my gaze with brilliant green eyes.
Shit. I ducked my head.
“May I have this dance?” the King asked, catching me off guard.
“If that means the introductions are over, then I don’t see why not,” I quipped.
He beamed. “It does, only because Wilhelmina, Frederick’s wife, will have spread the news of your arrival at court from here to Bard by the time the song is over.”
“I see,” I replied.
“Are you familiar with the Gaspard?” he asked.
I glanced at the minstrels who stood at attention beside the dance floor, their fiddles and flutes poised as if awaiting the King’s command.
The only dancing I had ever done was on feast days in the village.
It involved an awful lot of spinning and singing at the top of your lungs, but was probably entirely undignified by Valnarian standards.
“It’s a couple’s dance,” I said. “I’ve heard that it’s popular at these kinds of events, but I’m afraid I’ve never tried it. ”
He took my hand, pulling me onto the dance floor. “It’s customary for the king to lead the first dance,” he explained, nodding at the fiddle player. “The lady typically follows the gentleman.”
Courtiers gathered at the edge of the dance floor as the King smiled and gently lifted my hand to his shoulder.
My heart fluttered as his own slid to my waist, my fingers curling where they lay against the rich fabric of his doublet.
As the harpist’s first note drifted into the air, we began to circle the ballroom.
He was a natural, or at the very least expertly practiced, leading me effortlessly around the room.
Many of the courtiers soon joined us, whirling around us in a cacophony of brilliant colors.
Others watched from the edge of the dance floor, clapping in time with the music.
My breathing steadied as we moved, relaxing into the rhythm of the song.
A laugh escaped me as he lifted me off my feet, the room blurring until it was just the two of us. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.
As the song ended, the crowd erupted into applause, cheering wildly as the minstrels took their bows.
My breathing labored, I managed a smile as the other dancers passed, each taking their turn to bow or curtsey to the King.
But his attention was not upon them. Instead, a peculiar expression rippled across his features as he gazed down at me, his grip on my waist still firm.
My cheeks grew warm, what little space there was between us taut like a drawn bowstring.
His lips parted as if to speak when a wave of courtiers crashed down upon us.
Reluctantly, I dropped his hand, clasping my own safely behind my back.
Once the crowd dissipated, King Mordric cleared his throat. “You make a fine dance partner.”
I bowed my head. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
He plucked a pair of wine goblets off of a passing tray, offering one to me. I sipped cautiously, wary of losing my head in this crowd.
“Care to accompany me outside for some fresh air?” he asked, interrupting my thoughts. I flashed a smile and nodded, looping my hand through his outstretched arm.
The moon bathed us in its silver light as we ducked onto the nearby terrace. I could still hear the muffled music and the excited hum of conversation in the ballroom, but it was a relief to be free of the crowd for a moment. I took a deep breath, drawing the frosty evening air into my lungs.
“I’m impressed by how you handled yourself in there,” said the King. “It’s almost as if you’ve been at court for years.”
“It wasn’t so bad,” I replied, running my nail along the coarse stone railing.
“Liar.”
I blanched, but relaxed as his face broke into a grin. “Alright,” I conceded. “I actually don’t think my palms have stopped sweating all night.”
He chuckled. “They’re not an easy crowd, I’ll admit.”
I ducked my head. “This is so unlike anything I’ve ever done before.”
“The ball?”
I nodded. “Sometimes some of the neighboring villages would come together to celebrate the autumn equinox, but that’s about the closest I’ve ever gotten to a ball. And even then, the whole thing would be entirely out of doors.”
“I imagine the Outlands must be very beautiful in autumn. I’ve only ever ventured as far as Bard, I’ll admit.”
I nodded. As the largest city that far west, Bard was the unofficial capital of the Outlands. I supposed there would be no reason for a king to visit a place as remote and insignificant as Wealdstone.
“It is. It’s not too cold, and all the trees at the foot of the Sovereign Mountains turn brilliant shades of gold before their leaves fall.”
Nearby, a nightjar trilled its lonely song into the empty midnight air.
I glanced up at the King, the silvery moonlight gilding the sharp edges of his jaw.
The idea of him strolling the streets of Wealdstone almost made me giggle.
There would be no other vampires for miles around, and he would look extraordinarily out of place in all his finery.
“I feel like everyone in there was staring at me,” I admitted.
“They’re staring for good reason,” he said.
“They are?”
“You look beautiful.”
The King was as tall and imposing as any god, and so I was forced to tilt my chin up to meet his gaze, but still we locked eyes, my breath catching in my throat. “You’re not what I would expect of a king.”
He cocked his head. “How so?”
“You run your own errands,” I pointed out. “Even your speech is less, er, kingly than I expected.”
“I doubt my council will allow me to wander into Valnar on my own again after what happened,” he said, winking. “And I prefer to save the formal vernacular for my missives.”
I smiled.
“I suspect they’re also surprised to see me attending a ball with someone on my arm.”
“You don’t escort all your newest advisers to such things?”
His expression became serious, sending a shiver through me that had nothing to do with the cold. “No.”
“No?” I echoed.
He shook his head.
A question burned at the tip of my tongue, although the very idea of how he might respond made my heart thump against my ribcage.
Still, by some twist of fate I had earned the King’s ear, if only for the night.
If ever there was a time to be bold, it was now.
“If I may ask,” I said, my voice a whisper, “why have you done so now?”
His black eyes sparkled. “I’m not certain I can fully put it to words, except to say that I find myself fascinated by you, Miss Erramun.”
I balked. “You do?”
“Indeed. And I would like to call upon you again after tonight, if you wouldn’t mind.”
The hairs on the back of my arms stood at attention, as if balancing on their tiptoes to hear my reply. “I would like that very much, Your Majesty,” I whispered.
A smile played on his lips. “Please,” he said. “Call me Mordric. Your Majesty is far too formal.”
“Of course, your … er, Mordric,” I corrected myself.
“Perfect.”
“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty— Oh!” came a cry as a figure appeared. I leaped away from Mordric, my chopines skidding on the flagstones.
“Sir Geoffrey, this better be important,” said the King. He cast only a fleeting glance at the intruder, his black eyes returning quickly to me.
I, on the other hand, stared blankly into the round face of the Captain of the Royal Guard.
Mordric hadn’t pointed him out to me earlier, but I had seen him around the castle over the years.
He was usually shouting at the guards—when he thought no one was looking—for slouching or not keeping their armor polished.
Now, he was bright pink from the tip of his nose to the peak of his hairless scalp.
“Deepest apologies, Your Majesty,” he stammered, his eyes raised to the sky as if he had stumbled upon a far less innocent spectacle. My cheeks burned.
“What brings you out here, Geoffrey?” asked Mordric.
“The Master at Arms wanted a word, Your Majesty,” he said. “And apparently thinks he can order me around like one of his soldiers,” he grumbled under his breath.
Mordric scowled. “I’d much rather remain out here with my beautiful companion.” I glanced up at him. Beautiful? “Still,” he said, “I suppose I must allow you to whisk me away. Come, Finn.”
“You look like you need a drink.”
I blinked up at the source of the voice, the din of the ballroom coming back into focus.
I had trailed awkwardly inside after the two men, but my mind was still on the terrace with the King.
With Mordric. My breath caught in my chest as I recognized the dark-haired vampire I had watched from across the room earlier.
He shoved a crystal tumbler into my hand.
“Thank you,” I said, wrapping my fingers around it.
The acrid tang of whiskey nearly wrinkled my nose, but I welcomed the warmth that blossomed in my chest as I tipped it down my throat.
The stranger turned to Mordric, whom Geoffrey was desperately trying to escort across the hall toward a rather drunk-looking Master at Arms.
“My king,” said the dark-haired vampire, bowing exaggeratedly at the waist. “Humans are a fragile sort, you know. Sensitive to the cold. You shouldn’t allow your guest to freeze.”
Fragile?
Mordric chuckled, clapping his guest roughly on the back. The vampire didn’t flinch. “Welcome. How long has it been?” he asked. Geoffrey groaned, nearly clipping a waiter in the shoulder as he stalked off into the crowd.
“Seven years, perhaps?” the stranger replied.
“Too long. You have been missed.” Mordric turned to me. “Allow me to introduce Miss Finwal Erramun, my newest adviser-in-training.”