Queen Of Glass

Chapter 12

Dorian DeHavilliard, Crown Prince of Adarlan, sat on his throne in boredom that neared insanity. His mother had transported her entire court outside for the day, a task that required moving all her tables, chairs, and pillows deep into the South Garden. Her court had reluctantly followed, their trails of servants coming with them.
It was a beautiful day: the sky was crystal blue again, and the weather was similar to that of a paradisiacal spring morning. Soft breezes wafted by, carrying with it the singing and merriment of life outside the palace walls.
In front of him, circles of the ridiculous nobles and ladies-in-waiting danced to delicate tunes played by the orchestra that his mother had instructed to come into the garden with them. They laughed and smiled and bounced around in their frilly costumes, jingling their bells and ribbons whenever they saw fit. The scent of their perfumes ruined the fresh and pure smells of the garden.
His mother sat beside him, clapping happily to the tune of the music, smiling like any other stupid woman here. He could see the wrinkles that she sought to hide in the corners of her mouth and eyes; he could tell that her skin was not that smooth or beautifully colored. Dorian knew how many hours it took for her ladies-in-waiting to paint and decorate her face...and how long it took for them to fix the stays on her corset so that she could still have her slender figure. Were all women that ridiculous about looking pretty?
Everyone here was just as painted and crafted as his mother. He knew that women could hardly breathe in their gowns (for he often saw how tightly they were tied beneath), and knew that this dancing would probably cause a few of them to faint. Which would give him the perfect opportunity to leave.
Once every two weeks, Dorian DeHavilliard was required by his mother to sit at court with her and play with her courtiers. He'd frequently bring friends or visiting male relations to court with him so that he could have someone to talk to other than the women who threw themselves at him, but today he had made the mistake of bringing three of his distant cousins to court. Despite their love for hunting and fencing, they were all just as silly as the nobles here. They had left their prince to dance with the young women of the court.
His cousins had the same natural instincts as he did, but they had not yet learned that the women of his mother's court were, to put it frankly, terrible bedmates and not worth the chase. Maybe this was because of the lack of hunting involved. All that Dorian had to do to get a woman to sleep with him was to dance a few dances with her and tell her that she was the prettiest maiden at the ball.

Stupid sows.
At dinner last night, his cousins had eagerly investigated the nine beautiful women who dined at a table without any male company. As much as he hated to admit it, Dorian was curious about how easy these women were too. Except for Kaltain R'ompier. She was so fast that Prince Dorian had been put off before he had even considered her as a bed partner.
He had immediately taken Princess Anuksun off of his list of potentials because of her status. He didn't want to cause any political trouble. All of them were nice to look at, yet only a few actually caught his eye.
But the woman that Dorian was genuinely interested in was Celaena Sardothien. Yet she wasn't there! Dorian had looked all over for a sign of the woman, but he could not find her. He had been watching her since her arrival at the palace, watching her morning duels with Chaol from the balcony above them. She was an intelligent and strong woman—he had been correct in choosing her for this. But could she pass off as a lady?
Dorian looked at the silly people prancing about and thought about Celaena in their place. He couldn't see it. She'd enjoy hanging them all by their toes more than she would dancing with them. Then again, so would he.
He should probably talk to her one of these days about those books that he had lent her. Chaol told him that she had finished six of them and was on the final one, gobbling up the pages at each chance she got. Dorian DeHavilliard frowned when he thought about how little anyone here read. All they knew were songs and poetry and other light things.
Dorian rested his head against a propped-up hand. His legs were stiff and his bottom was sore from sitting for too long. Yawning, he got to his feet to stretch, raising his arms over his head. Immediately, five young women rushed at him like dogs, awaiting him to ask them to dance. With a cold look, he sat back down again. He was so bored of these people! How was he going to be able to live here for the rest of his life?
A waltz began to play, much too dark for this time of the day, and Dorian looked at his mother with raised eyebrows. But she was looking at someone else. A large, old woman with a sort of regal grace was leading what looked like a flock of jewels into his mother's makeshift court.
Dorian stood up to get a better look. That old bat hadn't brought those girls in here, had she? Dorian was furious. How dare she bring them here! Some of these girls were common dirt dragged up from the ground!
Tul'rouse's trail of women stopped behind her and looked around. Several members, mostly men, of the court looked at them, interested in who these beauties might be.
His mother turned to him and smiled, saying quietly, "Dorian, you're twenty-two. Your father and I have both agreed that it would be splendid for you to find a bride before your twenty-third year. Which is in eight months, mind you. Since you have shown no interest in anyone in my court, we talked to Madam Tul'rouse and she said that she'd be delighted to introduce you to the ladies that she is training so that perhaps you could find a suitable wife."
Wife? Wife? Dorian opened his mouth to object, but his mother held up a hand.
"Just look at them, darling. You don't have to decide anything; just look." With a wave of her jewel-encrusted fingers,
the Queen beckoned for the old woman to display the women before him.
A redheaded girl came towards him and bowed. "Jodra Nustrom, my Lord," said Tul'rouse and moved the girl aside. He nodded his head and looked at the next girl who was brought over and groaned. It was Kaltain. Before anything could be said, Dorian motioned to move her away. Then came three more girls whose names he forgot immediately.
And then came Celaena.
"Lithaen Gordaina, my Lord," Tul'rouse said with a reverence that startled Dorian. Chaol had come up with a pretty name for her. He had to admit that the woman was beautiful, even more so now that she had been eating and out in the sun for a few weeks. Dorian couldn't help but notice how Celaena wore little make-up or paints on her face. They were used to enhance, not to conceal.

She was a natural beauty. Her hair shone on its own, her eyes sparkled on their own accord beneath her darkened eyelashes, and her lips were so wonderfully colored and lush that Dorian knew that no face paints were needed to make some of her features stand out.
So taken was he by the assassin's (an assassin, gods above!) beauty that Dorian didn't even realize that he was staring. An uncomfortable silence had rippled around him, one in which everyone was waiting for him to order the girl sent away. But he made no gesture to do so. He stared at her until the blush in her cheeks threatened to turn her face to ash and then he softly motioned for Tul'rouse to put her aside.
While being introduced to the other girls, Dorian hardly noticed their faces or their names. He watched with growing dislike as one of his cousins, Garold approached Celaena. Unable to hear what was going on, Dorian squirmed to get out of his seat to reach them. Couldn't this woman hurry up?
Garold held out his hand to Celaena, who looked at it as if she had never seen it before. The waltz was still playing and Celaena looked at the small orchestra playing beside his mother. Dorian almost cut off Tul'rouse's head in frustration when he saw Celaena smile slowly and take Garold's outstretched hand. Leading her onto the dance floor, Garold gracefully led her in a waltz. Despite the bad situation, Dorian realized that Celaena was a good dancer as well. If she could fool Garold and the rest of the court into thinking that she was a noble, she wouldn't have any trouble in Wendlyn.
Dorian didn't even acknowledge when all of the women and Tul'rouse had gone away with the Queen's permission to mingle about the court. He wondered what Garold would think of Celaena if he knew that she was the assassin that he probably still feared would slit his throat during the night.
"Jealous, are we?" It was Chaol. Leaning against Dorian's throne, Chaol watched Celaena be spun and twirled by Garold, her magnificent hair trapping the light of the sun within its strands.
Dorian snorted. "I'm more concerned for Garold's safety," he said coolly, looking at his nails.
"And I'm a pig with wings," Chaol said. "Come now, your Highness, don't despair! You're free to love this beautiful lady! Just as long as you remain ten feet away from her at all times. It will be like an ancient love story: you are the love-struck hero who is only able to love his lady from afar, for she is betrothed to an evil villain who-"
"Enough," Dorian said shortly, rubbing his temples. "I'm surprised that you haven't cut Garold's head off yet." Chaol looked genuinely shocked. "What?"
Dorian grinned. "I know you're sweet on her."
Chaol coughed. "Sardothien? Gods above, man, you can't be serious! I'd sooner love a rabid lion."
Before Dorian could think up a witty reply, the dance ended. Madam Tul'rouse rushed forward to grab Celaena before another man could steal her away and escorted her out of the gardens, after the trail of nine women who were leaving. Princess Anuksun waited for Celaena to catch up, and then walked beside her, laughing at something the assassin said.
Garold, catching Dorian's eye, approached him.
"Have you ever seen anything like her, Dorian?" Garold asked breathlessly. "What is her name? You must tell me!"
Dorian looked at Garold with his eyebrows high on his head.
"She is the Lady Lithaen Gordaina." Chaol said finally.
"Lady Lithaen!" Garold gasped, his eyes dreamy. "Tell me everything you know about her, I beseech you!" Garold said.
Dorian's eyebrows lowered. "She's betrothed," he blurted out before Chaol could say anything. Garold looked as if he had been poisoned. "Betrothed? But to whom?"

A slow smile spread across Dorian's face.
Garold gasped again and bowed his head. "A thousand apologies, my Lord! I never realized that you two were-"
Dorian waved his hand dismissively. "Engaged? Yes, we are. We have been for several months now, and at my mother's annual Summer Ball eight months from now, we're to announce it. I have yet to tell my parents, so you must keep this a secret, Garold, or else I will have you exiled to the bleakest and desolate place that I can find." Dorian smiled wider. "Perhaps the salt mines of Endovier?"
Chaol went into a coughing fit and had to walk away.
Garold shook his head violently. "No! Not a word from me, your Highness! And again, I apologize for intruding on your relationship with the Lady Lithaen...it will not happen again!"
"See to it that you and your two cousins stay away from her as well. I'll be asking her about who approaches her and who stays away. Hopefully I'll find you on the latter list."
Garold bowed deeply and rushed off to find some young woman to calm his nerves.
Laughing, Prince Dorian, heir to the throne of Adarlan, leaned back in his chair and pondered the mystery that was Celaena Sardothien.