Legacy of Fire and Sand

Chapter 46: The Announcement

The grand throne room buzzed with anticipation as courtiers and nobles gathered, the air thick with whispered speculations. Ashara stood in the shadows of Kellen's quarters, her heart heavy as she listened to the familiar voices echoing off the stone walls. The King's arrival was imminent, and with it, the fate of the Prince and Princess would be sealed.

The King strode into the room, his presence commanding attention. He took his place on the throne, the gold and crimson of his attire glimmering in the torchlight. Silence fell over the crowd, each noble and courtier fixated on the man who held their destinies in his hands.

"Lords and ladies of the court," the King began, his voice resonating throughout the hall, "I stand before you today to announce the long-awaited union of Prince Quentyn Martell and Princess Nymeria Sand. Their betrothal has reached its conclusion, and the wedding shall take place at the turning of the season."

A murmur rippled through the audience, the weight of the announcement sinking in. Quentyn's jaw clenched, his discomfort palpable, while Nymeria shifted uncomfortably beside him. Ashara watched from her corner, her heart aching for them. She understood the constraints of duty and the tyranny of their circumstances, but she felt powerless to change their fate.

"The invitations have been sent to all noble houses," the King continued, his gaze sweeping the room, "and I expect a grand celebration. Prepare yourselves for a feast that will echo through the ages!"

As the King's proclamation echoed in the air, Ashara's mind wandered to Kellen. She remained in his quarters, her body bearing the marks of his rough treatment, a constant reminder of her current predicament. She had learned to endure the hardness of his hands, the possessiveness in his touch, though each interaction left her feeling more broken.

The doors of the throne room swung open, and King Valen and Queen Elara of House Elegant made their entrance. Their presence was magnetic, drawing every eye in the hall. Clad in luxurious fabrics of royal green and gold, they radiated elegance and confidence. Valen's striking scar adorned his face, adding an edge to his handsome features, while Elara's voluptuous figure turned heads and ignited whispers among the onlookers.

"Ah, my esteemed guests!" the King boomed, a smile spreading across his face. "Welcome to our court! Your arrival brings the promise of excitement!"

As Valen and Elara approached the throne, they caught sight of Ashara. A playful glint ignited in Valen's eyes, and he leaned down, whispering something to Elara. She giggled softly, her laughter a melodious contrast to the tension in the air. They moved closer, their interest in Ashara evident.

"A charming little dove among the crows," Valen mused, reaching out to trace a finger along Ashara's cheek, lingering near the scar that marred her beauty. "You are a treasure, my dear."

Ashara felt a shiver run through her, a mix of apprehension and unexpected warmth. It was a stark contrast to Kellen's rough touch. Elara stepped forward, her gaze commanding and flirty. "Such a lovely mark you carry. It tells a story of resilience and strength," she said, her voice dripping with allure. "I think you should be celebrated, not treated like a possession."

Caught in the tender attention of the young royals, Ashara's heart raced. The warmth they exuded stood in stark contrast to the coldness she had grown accustomed to. But the sudden change in atmosphere did not escape Quentyn and Nymeria, who exchanged worried glances, their jealousy palpable.

"King Valen," the King interjected, his voice tinged with a hint of warning, "you must remember that Ashara belongs to the court. She is a mere attendant, not a prize to flaunt."

Valen chuckled, undeterred. "A mere attendant? I see a gem worthy of a king's court." He turned to Ashara, a devilish grin on his lips. "Would you do me the honor of joining my Queen and me in our chambers tonight?"

Kellen's anger flared at the perceived slight, his grip tightening on Ashara's arm. "She is mine, King Valen. You have no claim over her."

"Mind yourself, warrior," the King replied coldly, "you do not command anything in my house. The 'whore,' as you so delicately put it, belongs to House Martell, not to you."

The tension in the room thickened, Ashara caught in a web of desires and duties, her heart pounding at the prospect of being wanted, yet torn by loyalty to Quentyn and Nymeria.

As Valen stepped back, a satisfied smirk on his face, Ashara felt the weight of expectation settle on her shoulders.