luncheon. He said, “What about the
DarkDwellers? Aren’t they sending a delegation with a candidate for your hand?”
I affected a careless mien. “I cannot wait indefinitely for
Darkness’ emissaries.”
“The temper of Darkness’ prince is said to
be…unpredictable.”
“I have not heard too much about him, but he is said to be a
fearsome warrior.” I picked at my sallet. It was sprinkled with dried toreed, a
briny-tasting water-grass alleged to have medicinal properties. “If we leave
for the desert before Storne arrives, it is possible that he may take offense.”
“You don’t sound concerned.”
“He needs me more than I need him.”
Kaldir stared at me. “Ruthless beneath the sweet façade.”
“I prefer…realistic.”
He chuckled. “If we leave before Storne arrives, I will have
you all to myself.”
I did not mention that Frayn and assorted other ministers
would accompany us, to say nothing of numerous servants, guards, ladies-in-waiting,
stable hands… Kaldir might be able to find a quiet moment to press his suit,
but I doubted it.
Chapter Five
That afternoon, as usual, I held Open Court, an event at
which any citizen of Shadow could ask me for advice or judgment. Daily,
travelers arrived from all over the Shadowlands to speak, or most often to
argue.
My elaborate gown, swelled on each side by panniers, all but
obscured the Golden Throne on which I sat. The dress, in a rich crimson
brocade, was a vivid splotch of color against the gray slate hall. I gripped a
scepter—another ancient symbol of power—in my right hand. I leaned my chin on
my left, considering a boundary dispute between two farmers when I noticed a
flurry of activity near one side of the Great Hall.
Ignoring it, I straightened, conscious of the Throne framing
me, and announced my judgment. The litigants retired as metal-shod feet rang on
the slates. I had not noticed when the tall knight had entered, but at some
point he had decided to make his presence known. My attention seized, I rose,
seeking to pick out the interloper from the crowds.
He wasn’t hard to find, for he stood at least a head taller
than anyone else in the room, and I understood the mockery of the Darksiders
who called us “puny creatures of Shadow”. He wore a metal suit from head to
toe, and I could see nothing of his face, hidden as it was by a helmet crowned
with the double horns of the taqqa.
I knew the moment he espied my glance on him, for the speed
of his long strides increased. He bulled his way through the crowd, which
parted for him like the stormwind rushing around the turrets of my castle.
I consciously grounded myself, feeling the marble floor
beneath my high boots, straightening my back. Deep breaths pressed my breasts
against my corset, the lace trim scratching my flesh. My heart pounded.
Managing him would not be easy. If I chose him as my mate,
who would rule over Shadow?
“I, Storne, Lord of Darkness, have come to claim my queen.”
He approached and stepped onto the dais supporting my throne.
I was offended. “Bow,” I said.
Still standing, he reached up and removed his battered
helmet. Long dark hair, unkempt from his journey, fell around his armor’s
pewter shoulders. Cold gray eyes regarded me from a pale, set face, all planes
and angles of bone. Not a stripling, but not wizened and old. Darkness had sent
their finest champion, for Storne was a prince in the prime of life.
He inclined his head, giving me the briefest of bows.
“Audryn.”
I lifted my brows at his use of my given name. “The Queen of
Shadow greets Darkside’s emissary,” I said formally, extending a hand.
He stripped off a gauntlet, then dropped it and the helmet
to the stone floor with a startling crash. My body jerked. He took my fingers
in his, caressing my knuckles through the glove I wore. Instead of brushing his
lips on the satin, which would have been proper, he pulled at the glove,
thrusting his thumb between it and my wrist.
He
DarkDwellers? Aren’t they sending a delegation with a candidate for your hand?”
I affected a careless mien. “I cannot wait indefinitely for
Darkness’ emissaries.”
“The temper of Darkness’ prince is said to
be…unpredictable.”
“I have not heard too much about him, but he is said to be a
fearsome warrior.” I picked at my sallet. It was sprinkled with dried toreed, a
briny-tasting water-grass alleged to have medicinal properties. “If we leave
for the desert before Storne arrives, it is possible that he may take offense.”
“You don’t sound concerned.”
“He needs me more than I need him.”
Kaldir stared at me. “Ruthless beneath the sweet façade.”
“I prefer…realistic.”
He chuckled. “If we leave before Storne arrives, I will have
you all to myself.”
I did not mention that Frayn and assorted other ministers
would accompany us, to say nothing of numerous servants, guards, ladies-in-waiting,
stable hands… Kaldir might be able to find a quiet moment to press his suit,
but I doubted it.
Chapter Five
That afternoon, as usual, I held Open Court, an event at
which any citizen of Shadow could ask me for advice or judgment. Daily,
travelers arrived from all over the Shadowlands to speak, or most often to
argue.
My elaborate gown, swelled on each side by panniers, all but
obscured the Golden Throne on which I sat. The dress, in a rich crimson
brocade, was a vivid splotch of color against the gray slate hall. I gripped a
scepter—another ancient symbol of power—in my right hand. I leaned my chin on
my left, considering a boundary dispute between two farmers when I noticed a
flurry of activity near one side of the Great Hall.
Ignoring it, I straightened, conscious of the Throne framing
me, and announced my judgment. The litigants retired as metal-shod feet rang on
the slates. I had not noticed when the tall knight had entered, but at some
point he had decided to make his presence known. My attention seized, I rose,
seeking to pick out the interloper from the crowds.
He wasn’t hard to find, for he stood at least a head taller
than anyone else in the room, and I understood the mockery of the Darksiders
who called us “puny creatures of Shadow”. He wore a metal suit from head to
toe, and I could see nothing of his face, hidden as it was by a helmet crowned
with the double horns of the taqqa.
I knew the moment he espied my glance on him, for the speed
of his long strides increased. He bulled his way through the crowd, which
parted for him like the stormwind rushing around the turrets of my castle.
I consciously grounded myself, feeling the marble floor
beneath my high boots, straightening my back. Deep breaths pressed my breasts
against my corset, the lace trim scratching my flesh. My heart pounded.
Managing him would not be easy. If I chose him as my mate,
who would rule over Shadow?
“I, Storne, Lord of Darkness, have come to claim my queen.”
He approached and stepped onto the dais supporting my throne.
I was offended. “Bow,” I said.
Still standing, he reached up and removed his battered
helmet. Long dark hair, unkempt from his journey, fell around his armor’s
pewter shoulders. Cold gray eyes regarded me from a pale, set face, all planes
and angles of bone. Not a stripling, but not wizened and old. Darkness had sent
their finest champion, for Storne was a prince in the prime of life.
He inclined his head, giving me the briefest of bows.
“Audryn.”
I lifted my brows at his use of my given name. “The Queen of
Shadow greets Darkside’s emissary,” I said formally, extending a hand.
He stripped off a gauntlet, then dropped it and the helmet
to the stone floor with a startling crash. My body jerked. He took my fingers
in his, caressing my knuckles through the glove I wore. Instead of brushing his
lips on the satin, which would have been proper, he pulled at the glove,
thrusting his thumb between it and my wrist.
He
Similar Books
