Descendants of the Kings (Book 2)

Ch 12: Quite unrequited

Five hours.

That was how bloody long it took them to wrap up the meeting. Five hours of quibbling over petty details, assigning tasks and roles, going over tedious fine print and protocol, and soothing the ego of nobles throwing toddler tantrums. After five hours finally--finally--they were able to sign all the necessary documents and put the meeting to rest.

There were still more meetings to smooth out a few wrinkles, but those were minor. The deal had finally been settled, and it was a weight off everyone's shoulders.

By the time Ella filed out of the meeting room into the large hall, her cheeks hurt from her perpetual fake smile. She was half-sure she would remain this way, frozen, for the rest of her life. She wanted nothing more than to soak in the bath and have a glass of wine or two. Hell, why not the whole bottle? She deserved it after hearing Lord Roan's whingeing for so many hours.

Still, there was much to do, so she kept her stiff smile and went about shaking hands and making more small talk.

"Again, thank you for receiving us today, Your Majesty," Ella said to Queen Marigold, clasping her hand. "I look forward to working together."

"As do I, Princess," she returned, a twinkle in her eye. She lowered her voice then, softer than the cordial tones she'd used before. "You did well and handled yourself gracefully. You ought to be proud."

She sounded like Briar and Gidden's mother then, not the Queen. The woman who chatted with her and fondly looked after her children and staff, with everpresent kindness and grace. Her beautiful face warmed with a motherly smile, and Ella flushed under her approval.

"Thank you," you murmured, dipping her chin one last time before moving on to the next person.

The large, open hallway swarmed with courtiers, spilling out into the courtyard and milling about, chattering amongst themselves, between stone pillars and plants. Ella went on greeting people until she caught sight of a familiar figure.

Discreetly excusing herself from the woman she was speaking with, she made her way over to Gidden, coming face to face with him.

It was odd to see him in such formal attire. Rather than the bandoliers and simple, loose-fitting tunics he favoured, he wore a jacket made of the darkest forest green, embroidered at the cuffs and high collar in elaborate bronze trimmings. It offset his russet curls and his tan skin beautifully, clinging to his broad shoulders and defined arms. He looked as handsome as ever but visibly uncomfortable. Like he was masquerading in someone else's skin.

"Your Highness," he said stiffly, not meeting her prodding gaze. He took her hand to give it a chaste kiss, as was customary, but she didn't allow it. Instead, she held him from running away and leaned in closer.

"Gidden, how are you? How have you been?" she asked, or rather, rambled. "I know I already greeted you. I just saw you, for five hours, mind, but I meant how are you." She winced. "That makes no sense either, does it?"

Gidden finally looked up at her, his hand tense in her grasp, a flicker of sadness in his beautiful green eyes. "Ella, I don't--"

Gidden didn't get to finish his sentence, and Ella didn't continue her rambling, because soon enough, a whirl of colour appeared, colliding into them.

"How dare you?!" Briar jostled Ella like a tree in a storm, her diadem falling lopsided on her forehead. "I was worried sick about you."

She didn't even get to defend herself before Briar was clinging onto her with all her might, her mass of curly hair tickling her cheeks, her arms squeezing the life out of her. Ella was paralysed for a moment, before wrangling her arms out of Briar's hold and embracing her as well.