Dane took a bite of something. Chewed and swallowed. Took another bite. Chewed and swallowed. It'd been like that for several minutes, and he couldn't tell you what he was eating if he tried. Breakfast, perhaps.
Somewhere in the room, someone was giving him a report on something—the innocuous things his divorced wife had been observed doing in the past week, or something like that. He couldn't recite any part of the report if he tried. Something about her dresses, perhaps.
His mind flitted between the brief kiss the Serrasi woman left on his cheek, and how he would locate her. The only defining feature he'd seen of her were her eyes. If he saw those eyes again, would he still recognise her? What if she painted her eyes differently?
If he spoke with one of the emissaries from Serras and tried to ask for her, how would he even describe her? The girl who wore a blue dress last night? He recalled there might have been a few.
Or would she go easy on him and seek him out again?
Having deliberated his options (or lack thereof) enough, his mind thought it apt to turn back to the kiss. It was a swift peck, but enough for him to feel the warmth and softness of her lips. How would they feel on his lips? Would she kiss him back with the same assertiveness and fearlessness she'd displayed before him?
Somehow, he finished whatever was on his plate.
Somehow, he made it through an entire morning of verbal reports from his men.
Somehow, he survived yet another gruelling afternoon of greeting all the latecomers who'd arrived in Lyons that morning, including a delegation from the faraway kingdom of Uviel.
Most of the time, he remembered to wear that lifeless portrait smile he'd mastered since the age of ten. Other times, when he tortured himself with more thoughts of the Serrasi woman, he'd forget. It caused the rumour mill to run. In the afternoon, the gossipers said: "King Dane is in a sour mood." A few hours later, it was: "King Dane will cut off your legs if you tread on his toes."
For the first time, he appreciated these outrageous rumours about him; the more outrageous, the better, for it meant he was given a wide berth. Even at the ball that evening, the ladies fluttered about him like a swarm of butterflies fighting for a taste of nectar, but afraid to come too close in case he happened to be a Venus flytrap.
It meant he could walk about the ballroom, diplomatically question the Qeyeans about their latest attempts to encroach on their Eastern border, and have the occasional dance with a few less obnoxious ladies, all the while keeping an eye out for the mysterious, elusive woman.
But as the late hours of sunset gave way to a cloudless night of full moon and twinkling stars, there was still no sign of her. Every now and then, he checked the balcony. After every check, he returned to the ballroom with great disappointment and a darkened expression he no longer bothered to hide.
And so, the rumours exacerbated to the point of: "King Dane will gouge out your eyeballs and make you eat them if you look at him the wrong way."
As she'd done the night before, Cassie kept to the marble columns and potted plants around the perimeter of the grand hall, carefully observing Dane from the shadows.
Yesterday, he'd looked bored and frustrated. Tonight, the man was a veritable ticking time bomb on the cusp of exploding. His lips were stretched into a grim line, his eyes a permanent glare, and she'd heard the rumours. Perhaps she should hold back from intruding when he was in such a foul mood.
"Mother, what should I do?"
It was a familiar voice, and Cassie looked over to her right to see the Lady Clarence and her daughters who'd ganged up on her in the library. The little missies were still in the same colours as they'd worn that day—extravagant dresses in pastel pink and violet, decorated with ribbons, lace and gems. Over the top, they may be, but undeniably still pretty. Tonight, their expressions conveyed deep worry, as opposed to the arrogance she'd previously encountered.
YOU ARE READING
Bride to the Cursed: a Snow White retelling
Fantasy[COMPLETED] When a king makes an order, he expects it to be followed. When King Dane divorced his wife, he expected her to get out of his sight and stay out of his sight. Not reappear three months later in his bed, spouting nonsense about being a 'l...
