The Tyrant's Queen

45: promise of a royalty

Accompanied by a dozen baby-faced priests in training, Yhun entered the hall.

His unpunctuality was a statement. That he held more political power than royalty, and knew well the intentional impartiality of General Ikan, who symbolized the military power of the country.

Throwing Yhun an enraptured smile, Estel was ushered to her seat.

Raising his eyebrow ostentatiously, Neka returned to his seat as well, winking at an Aesnanian maid in the process.

Allowing Lucien to hand hold her to their seats, Thalia glanced at the crowd for familiar faces.

Clad in hot-pressed military attire with his hair pressed back with gel, Karlieus sat alongside his father.

No one could fathom he used to belong to the seas, from his palace appropriate clothing and hair.

Sipping on tea, Ikan, as inexpressive as his son, kept his gaze on his still empty plate.

Thalia could only spot Winhita by first catching sight of Casarine with a pink silk veil over her face.

For a man who used to be the late Jesra's right hand, Winhita was as inconspicuous as the foot soldiers stationed in the hall.

The ponytailed head chef of the palace entered with explanations of the day's meal. Maids and servants filed in, and the feast began.

Plates and platters of rare, off-season fruits, stuffings of meat and vegetables filled tables.

Strangely enough, she could only tolerate two or three spoonfuls of the soup.

"The physician says you are losing weight." Lucien's voice snapped Thalia out of her reverie.

Some time had passed since the exchange with Neka and Estel. Startled, Thalia glanced at the plates of officials.

Some had been scraped clean, and empty wine bottles were being brought out. How long had she been in this bizarre state of trance?

She glanced at her left hand, enclosed in Lucien's. They had been holding hands from the moment they'd stood before the doors of the hall.

As she tried to extract her hand from his, Lucien only tightened his grip.

"Yes, sire," Thalia muttered, not quite understanding what she was saying.

There was a thick fog over her mind. The only clarity was the thirst for the drug slowly creeping up from the root of her tongue.

Feeling a pair of eyes on her, Thalia lifted her gaze. Estel was looking at them, an impish, flirtatious smile playing on her lips.

Almost carefully, Lucien extracted his hand from hers. Taking up the fork and knife on her plate, he took up a piece of meat dish and started slicing it.

It had taken her so long to realize they'd been holding hands.

But without his grip, she now realized how empty and cold her hand felt.

"The chef is good. He's been the chef head for four kings so far." Taking up a piece of meat in the fork, Lucien moved it close to Thalia's lips.

Starting, Thalia took the fork from Lucien's hand. "I will do it, sire. Did you perhaps...have a drink?"

"Only water." Lucien's eyes crinkled into an amused smile. "Why? You still cannot believe my confession that my last ever drink was on the ride back to Aesna?"

Thalia started chewing on the steak. It was soft and juicy, but she could barely taste anything. "You look...all right."

Following Thalia's quick glance at Estel, the smile wavered on Lucien's face. "How clever, my queen. So what do you think?"