Veridia

Chapter 8

Aethiria, present

Aleksander had taken a hasty shower and was drying his hair when Andrei walked into the room.

"Do you not know what knocking means?"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. The King wants you to go to dinner with the rest of the nobles. It's going to be tense."

Aleksander groaned before tugging on an olive green shirt that was lying on his bed.

"You think? How long do we have?"

"About ten minutes."

Aleksander picked up a comb from his vanity table and tidied up his hair the best he could. Come to think of it, his shirt reminded him of a certain someone. A certain someone who had beaten him in a sword fight, a certain someone who was in fact probably the most dangerous person in the kingdom.

"Oh yeah, did I mention that Geneva's going too?"

Aleksander's hand froze midway from setting the comb down on the table.

"What did you say?"

Andrei was smirking, a glint in his eyes that Aleksander did not like.

"Calm down. Don't get you pants in a twist. I'm sure she'll look stunning even if she's wearing the same black tunic."

"That's not- huh?" Aleksander sputtered.

Andrei laughed.

"Don't think I didn't notice. You're drawn to her, I can tell. Anyways, I should probably get her. See ya, lover boy."

"WHAT- I'm not-"

His words fell on deaf ears as Andrei was already out the door.

Groaning, Aleksander looked at himself in the mirror. He suddenly felt very conscious of his messy hair and slightly wrinkled shirt.

God, what am I doing?

Just to prove himself wrong, Aleksander refused to change.

As the heat in his cheeks refused to dissipate, and Aleksander decided to go to the dining room early.

The King was the only one there, sitting at the head of the table.

"Father." Bowing, Aleksander sat down at King Volkov's left hand side. The right hand side was reserved for the crown prince.

"Aleksander. How did training go?"

Aleksander winced as he thought of Geneva's sword-point at his chest, heart stuttering remembering her closeness.

"The girl's sword is worth watching" Aleksander admitted grudgingly.

"She single-handedly beat every single guard in the platoon training today."

King Volkov leaned back in his seat, nodding.

"That's not the only reason, is it."

His words were phrased as a question, but Aleksander sensed that it was a statement.

Sighing, Aleksander confessed reluctantly, "She beat me too."

King Ilya only slightly arched an eyebrow before raising his hand for the first guest walking in.

It was Kirigan, with Lady Katerina on his arm.

Huh, I guess he finally roped in a girl. Impressive, for someone like him.

"Father. I hope you don't mind if Lady Alexeeva sits by my side today?"

"Not at all, son."

King Volkov seemed quite relieved. Aleksander knew that Kirigan was coming-of-age soon, and without a gift the only way to distract the public from that fact was hosting a grand wedding. Normally at nineteen, the oldest heir would get a season, in which they could pick a bride over a season's worth of time. All of the nobles would be welcome to stay in the palace and all had a chance of winning the heir's heart. Kirigan had adamantly refused having a season, as quote: "He had already decided."