The Fifth Daughter {Fantasy-Romance}

FOUR

Silent battle of wills

·・✩₊˚.⋆☾ ⋆⁺₊✧・·

THE MANSION REMAINED AS tranquil as the day before, but now sunlight streamed through the towering windows, casting enchanting shadows upon the plush velvet carpet adorned with intricate golden patterns. The place radiated opulence and grandeur.

Asterin and Astrea strode ahead, their murmurs barely audible, tempting anyone to strain their ears in hopes of catching a snippet of their conversation. At last, they halted before a colossal golden door, its brilliance nearly blinding. It could only be genuine gold.

With a firm knock from Astrea and synchronized movements, Asterin and Astrea swung open the door, revealing a breathtaking sight: the dining room. Its ceiling soared to dizzying heights, reminiscent of a royal castle. Rich hues of gold and crimson enveloped the space, evoking a sense of regality. Golden raven statues perched at each corner, adding an air of mystique to the already majestic ambiance.

One of the pixies cleared their throat, though it was impossible to discern which one. Attention finally settled on the figure seated at the head of the long table, draped with luxurious red and golden swirls. His eyes bore into those who entered, golden brown with long lashes fluttering as he blinked. He should be the lord of this Court. There was an aura of authority.

A golden goblet paused mid-air in his hand, likely halted by the entrance of the newcomers. His slim, elegant fingers adorned with gleaming rings added to his imposing presence.

A hesitant step forward, then another, and another, led to the opposite end of the table. With a mere wave of his hand, Asterin and Astrea departed, leaving Maerwynn alone with the imposing figure. A chill crept up her spine, accompanied by a nervous sweat.

Though he hadn't uttered a word, his mere presence was daunting. He remained motionless, almost statue-like, as their gazes locked in a silent standoff.

"It's rude to stare," his voice finally broke the silence, surprisingly sweet, a melody unexpected in Maerwynns lifetime. "Take a seat."

As she settled into the plush chair, eyes widened in surprise at the sight before her. The table was adorned with an array of exquisite dishes, each presented on golden plates and bowls. Silver utensils gleamed beside them, neatly wrapped in linen napkins. It was a feast fit for royalty, far from the strange concoctions half-expected.

Marvelling at the sight of real food, each dish a masterpiece in its own right, the aroma wafting from the table tantalized her senses, stirring a hunger that had not gone unnoticed.

"Please, help yourself," Valen gestured graciously, his eyes softening slightly as he observed the reaction to the spread before him.

The words of a poem once sung by her mother echoed in Maerwynns mind: "If you see a faerie, don't turn your back on them, don't collect their food or drink their wine. Faeries don't lie, but they are skilled manipulators."

The lord's goblet hit the table with a gentle thud, interrupting the thought. "I assure you, it's not poisoned," he stated calmly.

Maerwynns gaze shot up to meet his, eyes gleaming with an unsettling tranquility. He was far from the creature described in the cautionary tales. No horns, no sharp teeth, no beady eyes—just a man, albeit a mysterious and surprisingly handsome one.