3 Dreamweaver (1/2)
She missed the light and warmth as soon as the garden doors shut behind her. The party was much smaller now, just herself, the Chancellor and two guards, one on either side of her. Her handmaids were gone. I didn't even get to say goodbye to Haribit, she thought her heart sinking.
The Chancellor continued his tour, pointing out interesting portraits and bits of architecture. She had thought the hall was list by torches but upon closer inspection she could see that they were some sort of light charm crafted to mimic the flickering warm light of natural fire. Unnecessary in her opinion. It wasn't as if the cold stone the halls were made from would burn. The carpet was thick but underneath she could feel the stone of the building. The light they cast did not illuminate the halls much more than small circles under their locations, but she wasn't sure fire would do much better.
Feeling hopelessly out of place she wrapped her arms around herself, clutching the board to her chest, to keep what little warmth she could muster. Her bright clothes seemed to attract the light, pulling it towards her even as the shadows danced in their false flames, as if the very walls were watching her.
The Chancellor stopped before a heavy door and without knocking pushed them open.
”Your Highness, may I present your bride,” he said dropping into an elaborate bow as he moved out of the way and allowed Isilla to pass into the room.
Her heart jumped into her throat.
The Crown Prince of the Dark Kingdom, Lehan, her soon to be husband, sat behind a heavy wooden desk eyeing her coldly. He was just as handsome as his portrait had been. His hair was in a similar ponytail but there was something different about his face. Something missing from his eyes.
He looks so cold, she thought as he rose from the chair. Paralyzed she stood motionless as he walked around the table to greet her. Her eyes caught her brothers half smile from his seat in front of the prince. The treaty was on the table, already signed. As much as she tried, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had been sold.
She felt her nerves rise again, filling her with fear. Her eyes swept the room, looking for anything to anchor to. In the corner shadows was a figure. She pulled her eyebrows together, focusing on the person who stood in the darkness. Wrapped in the darkness, she hadn't noticed him at first. The man from the garden stared at her, a slight frown on his face. He stood straight with his arms behind his back.
”My lady,” Lehan said speaking in the dark tongue, reaching for her. She hadn't even registered that he had stood and walked around the desk.
It happened so quickly that she had no time to react. Lehan grabbed her smaller frame and pulled her close. She couldn't breathe as he pressed his lips to hers. Forcing her mouth open with his own he slipped his tongue between her teeth. She gagged and pushed him away.
Lehan laughed still holding her. This was not the man who had called her his heart, this forceful Prince could not be the person who wrote her such beautiful words. He was crass.She twisted one arm out of his grasp. On impulse she swung, slapping the prince hard but despite the strength in it, there was no sound. He moved back a few steps, releasing her and holding his face. His easy humor quickly faded into something dark. He took a step towards her, his face dark and dangerous.
She stepped back. Too quickly and too far, her back hit a pedestal she hadn't noticed and the vase that sat on it went tumbling. Isilla reached for it, her fingers just touching the smooth sidet as it shattered on the floor.
Sharp pieces of porcelain scattered across the stone. She turned back to the room. Her brother had looked away from her slowly shaking his head. Lehan stood his hand still reaching for her for a moment before dropping.
”Why,” he asked breaking the silence still holding her gaze, ”did that make no sound when it broke.”
”My lord, my sister abhors noise in all its forms. I'm sure she silenced the break without thinking,” Argia said smoothly.