A swift, heavy pressure swept over the table.
It started with Prince Ferox, who visibly stiffened, his hand tensing against the tablecloth, causing the fabric to bunch around his fingers. Prince Illian froze like a rabbit sensing a hawk, his arms instinctively tightening around Varyan. Each noble's expression shifted into various shades of discomfort, as if they had all simultaneously swallowed something sour. A frosty mask settled over the queen's features, and at the head of the table opposite Cressida, King Gallus III's smile vanished entirely.
The only one seemingly unaffected was Callidus himself. He stopped directly behind Illian's chair and calmly repeated, "I apologize for being late."
After a beat, his eyes left Cressida to fix Illian with an expectant stare.
The chair intended for Varyan remained empty, and as Illian nervously glanced between Callidus and Varyan's chair, the cushions - meant to boost the toddler to table height - abruptly slid to the floor as if on cue. Taking this as a clear sign, Illian hastily rose, clutching Varyan, and shifted one seat over.
With a satisfied smile, Callidus claimed the vacated seat next to Cressida. "Good evening, Princess," he greeted, his voice low and smooth, as if they were the only two people in the room.
"Prince Callidus," Cressida said, grateful for his timely arrival, "it's good to see you again. I trust your evening has been pleasant?"
Callidus's honey-brown eyes softened the longer he looked at her. "My evening just improved immeasurably."
For the first time since leaving Quail in the Golden Courtyard, Cressida felt a strange sense of relief. Callidus's presence, intense as it was, felt like a welcome escape from the king's relentless interrogation. Unlike the king, Callidus's intensity had an odd warmth to it, as if his probing gaze sought to understand her rather than to intimidate her.
At the very least, his arrival had given her some much-needed breathing room.
"Callidus," King Gallus III said, his sharp smile returning, "I wasn't aware you would be joining us this evening."
Callidus ignored him.
Instead, he leaned a fraction closer to Cressida. "I was looking for you," he murmured. "Where have you been?"
His tone was far too familiar for their brief acquaintanceship; like the way her mother would sometimes speak to her father - slightly relieved, slightly frustrated, and undeniably intimate.
"What do you mean?" she replied, her breath catching.
"I visited your room, but you weren't there," Callidus continued, oblivious or indifferent to the implications of his words. "As the steward was indisposed, I intended to escort you myself."
"Callidus," King Gallus III called, but Callidus paid him no mind.
The prince's boldness was unsettling yet strangely thrilling. Cressida felt the weight of everyone's eyes on them as Callidus leaned even closer, his expression shifting into one of concern, "Did you have trouble finding your way without my escort?"
Cressida's pulse quickened, the nearness of Callidus and the tension in the hall creating a dizzying contrast. "No, we...followed a rat," she mumbled, her eyes flicking to the king.
Callidus tilted his head, "A rat?"
Her cheeks burned. "I mean a maid. And then the guard captain."
"Callidus!" King Gallus III barked, his voice cutting through the charged air.
Callidus finally acknowledged his father's call with a slow turn of his head. "Yes, Your Majesty?" The king's gaze narrowed, but before he could respond, Callidus turned back to Cressida. "Forgive me, Princess, it seems my father wishes to interrupt our conversation."
YOU ARE READING
REVISED The Marigold's Larkspur
FantasyHEAVY RE-WRITE OF THE FIRST BOOK. There was a man staring at Cressida from across the room. He stood only a few paces from the entryway of the Banquet Hall, his dark attire blending seamlessly with the shadows and potted plants. Their eyes met, and...
