Chapter 13

We stood outside the Amarald Palace, waiting at the top of the stairs for the Queen of Nyarelle and the King of Marlyst to arrive. Their horses could be seen in the distance, making their way towards us.

I stood at Eliasson’s side, his arm loosely around my waist, his fingers mindlessly drawing soothing circles up and down my hip. Slaviya stood on his other side, keeping an appropriate space between us, her back rigid, signature scowl on her face. She wore a flattering moss green dress that circled her neck, bell sleeves flaring out to her forearms, the flowy material ending mid-way on her calf. Despite the requisite colour, her choice of attire surprised me, as the flash of skin is considered risqué for a Salistyan woman.

I moved from one foot to the other, gnawing on my lip, anxious. Eliasson squeezed my hip, drawing my attention to him. ‘Stop it, you look stunning,’ he muttered.

‘What if teal wasn’t the right choice? What if it sends the wrong message? Maybe I should’ve stuck to blue.’ I groaned, nervously picking at the collar wrapped around my throat. The silky dress was held up by a simple tie at the nape of my neck. It fell to cover my body to mid-thigh.

‘It’s no secret you’re a Salistyan-born Arloman Queen, Valare. Teal represents solidarity between the two Doms. It was a strategic decision and the right choice. Don’t overthink it,’ Eliasson soothed me.

Don’t overthink it? How could I not?

I took a few deep breaths, glancing at the people swiftly approaching us. From this distance, with my advanced sight I could tell the horse on the left was ridden by a woman wearing a pink jumpsuit held together by ties around her bust. Her long, wild black hair trailed behind her, and would easily reach her backside. Her pale pink eyes stared directly at us in sharp concentration.

The dark-skinned man on the far right drew my attention next. His vibrant, burnt-orange eyes and neatly trimmed dark copper hair revealed his Nyarellean heritage. My mind actively searched for the name of the man, knowing I’d met him at last year’s Forum.

‘What’s the Nyarellean man’s name again?’ I whispered to Eliasson.

‘Ramone, Qynthia’s Second.’

Ah, Ramone. That’s right.

Qynthia, the Queen of Nyarelle, meanwhile sat on the middle horse in front of the new King of Marlyst, wearing an orange two-piece with pride, the colour of it beautifully complementing her dark complexion. Her curly hair was gracefully stacked on top of her head in a loose bun, a few strands falling on either side of her face, the copper tones of her hair glinting in the sun. Just how I remembered her. A picture of effortless beauty.

In the time it took them to arrive at the steps of the Palace, I hadn’t been able to get a glimpse of the new King apart from his arms, which were wrapped around Qynthia and holding onto the straps guiding the horse. Interesting statement on their part. A teal dress is clearly the least of my worries.

Ramone and the woman accompanying the King and Queen dismounted their horses, handing the reins over to our stable hands before coming up either side of the remaining horse.

My breath hitched as the King gracefully dismounted and I got my first look at him. He was tall, rivalling the height of Eliasson who was a full head and shoulder taller than me. On the new King, I’d be surprised if my head even made it to the middle of his chest, a chest that I could see glimpses of through the thin linen shirt he was wearing. He was sculpted to perfection.

My eyes drank him up. His jawline was a gift from the Goddess herself, starkly prominent despite the five o’clock shadow peppered across it. His beautiful pale pink eyes were framed by thick black brows. What completely did me in, though, was the short buzz cut of his hair that accentuated his beautifully sculpted face, which lit up as he laughed at something Qynthia had said, holding out his hand in response to assist her dismount. Holy hell he was stunning. And Eliasson wanted me to spend majority of my time with him? I could almost feel myself getting damper by the minute. Goddess, give me strength.

The entourage ascended the stairs, the King whispering something in Qynthia’s ear eliciting laughter and an intimate caress on his forearm that I found interesting. Very interesting.

Eliasson cleared his throat as the pair reached the top of the step, leaning in to chastely kiss the cheek of the Queen – ‘Qynthia, a pleasure as always’ – before raising his hand out to Xylan. ‘King Xylan, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person. Welcome to Arlom, I hope your travels were not too strenuous.’

Xylan’s hand met Eliasson’s. ‘The pleasure is all mine, King Eliasson. Thank you for graciously welcoming us to your Kingdom. Your land is a delight to be seen. I have a newfound appreciation for the delightful food that I enjoy courtesy of your farmers,’ he responded.

Oh, he’s good, a true charmer.

‘I’d like to introduce you to my –’

Slaviya stepped in to interrupt Eliasson, holding out her hand in expectation to the Marlyst King. ‘King Xylan, Queen Slaviya of Salistya. Pleasure to meet you.’

Xylan’s unimpressed gaze landed on my sister, before moving down to her outstretched hand which he took and shook briefly. He stepped away as soon as was appropriate.

I felt the slight stiffening of Slaviya’s shoulders at his response before she turned to Qynthia, placing a quick kiss on her cheek as the Queen responded in kind. ‘Good to see you again, Qynthia.’

‘A pleasure as always, Slaviya,’ Qynthia replied, pulling my sister into a hug. Given Slaviya’s dislike for physical affection, I was surprised she didn’t rebuff the embrace, instead actually launching into a conversation with the Queen.

My eyes swung back around to King Xylan, only to see his were already on me.

‘You must be Valare?’ he purred, bringing an uncontrollable blush to my cheeks. Apparently, we were already on a first name basis.

‘I am. It’s very nice to meet you, King Xylan. Welcome to our home.’ My voice came out a little breathier than I would have preferred.

His hand shot out to grab mine, lifting it up to his lips to kiss my knuckles. He lingered a tad longer than was probably appropriate.

‘Please, call me Xylan,’ he murmured against my hand.

I swallowed a gasp, pulling my hand away quickly. His reluctance to release me didn’t go unnoticed. ‘Alright, Xylan.’

His eyes lit up with an emotion I couldn’t quite place. I felt the seconds go by, his stare refusing to leave mine, causing my cheeks to heat further. This was dangerous.

I cleared my throat trying to break the silence, glancing up quickly to see Eliasson taking in the exchange. His hand tightened on my hip slightly.

‘Congratulations on, ah, the recent promotion. Sorry to hear about your father,’ I blurted, immediately regretting it. I felt Eliasson stiffen next to me. Shit, that clearly sounded as bad as I thought it did.

Xylan simply laughed, seemingly unfazed. ‘Thank you, it’s a pleasure to rule my Kingdom. And no need to be sorry, the God Merlot knows you’re probably the only person in Fyriane to have thought his lack of presence a loss.’ He waved his hand dismissively.

I couldn’t stop the grin that rose on my face at his frankness. Well, at least we agreed that his father certainly wasn’t going to be missed.

‘Valare, lovely to see you again.’

I turned just in time as Qynthia came to embrace me with an affectionate squeeze. Eliasson quickly stepped away from us. Considering we had only met once, I didn’t think the Queen and I were necessarily at this level of friendship, but who was I to deny her?

Pulling away, I looked at the remaining man.

‘Oh! I’m so sorry, how rude of me. Valare, Eliasson, Slaviya, you remember Ramone?’ Qynthia asked.

The man in question stepped forward to bow. ‘Your Highnesses, a pleasure.’

Eliasson and Slaviya merely nodded.

‘Good to see you again, Ramone.’ I smiled at him, feeling that the others’ lack of response to be a little cold and snobby.

‘And this is my sister Orlandia. Orlandia, this is Queen Slaviya, King Eliasson and his wife Queen Valare,’ said Xylan, gesturing towards us.

My gaze shot to Xylan’s sister, eyebrows furrowing momentarily. Did I know her? I smoothed my features, smiling politely in acknowledgment.

Orlandia curtsied, copying Ramone’s words before standing up and looking straight at me. My eyes narrowed slightly, then widened as I took in her features. There were uncanny similarities to someone I had briefly met before, apart from the pale pink eyes and lighter skin tone. I shook my head, dismissing the thought. There were plenty of people who looked similar. I was overthinking it.

Before I could probe further, Qynthia looped her arms through mine and Slaviya’s, before making her way into the palace. ‘Ladies, please tell me dinner is ready. I’m positively starved. Not to mention I have been dying to drown myself in a healthy amount of that delicious Arloman wine. Gentleman, are you coming?’ Qynthia called over her shoulder, not bothering to wait for them.

I swung my head around to watch the men follow, chatting casually. My eyes landed on those beautiful pink ones to find they were already staring at me again, scanning the length of my exposed back and fixating on the scoop of material resting daringly on the top of my behind. I forgot to breathe when his gaze made its way up to mine, unashamed that I caught him staring at me, and in front of my husband too, if the cheeky wink he threw at me was anything to go by.

‘Valare?’

I swung my head back around to Qynthia, quickly realising she’d asked me for directions to the dining room.

‘The dining room? Straight through this first door and down the hall.’

My mind immediately jumped back to our interaction. What was this man playing at? He was staring at me like I was a prize to be won, and I most certainly wasn’t a prize. I was certainly very off limits, not to mention married. If he kept this up with his smouldering looks though, well, this may just turn out to be the longest weeks of my life.

I needed a wine.