Ariadne has always been a dreamer. Her mother would always say she was away with the faeries.
Until one night, an envelope shrouded with magic lands at her doorstep, inviting her to the dance of the damned in the enchanting land of Altoria.
It's m...
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Dinner was a somewhat quiet affair, as Kallen and his sister had lead Ariadne into a private dinning room, complete with a spacious ante chamber for entertaining according to the king himself.
Everything was a seamless blend of stone, but it was sinuous instead of sharp, chiselled blocks. Not a stonemasons work in sight. Ariadne blanched at the decor. It was beautiful but stone should be hard, full of edges and have a raw beauty. In its place was something entirely different, the columns meandered instead of standing proud and straight. The floors were polished to an unnatural sheen and the walls, they were as smooth as alabaster sheets pulled over the bare bones of the room.
The only nature insight was the resolute, stoic wooden beams holding up the vaulted ceiling and a few planters of flowers over flowing with ivy underneath the arched windows.
Ariadne had been placed to the left of Kallen again, a place of honour at the table, if the hushed whispers by the servants were anything to go by. Lena sat on his right. Ariadne thought that Lena was brave to keep sneaking glances at her, when she thought she wasn't looking.
Ariadne saw every single one of them. She didn't resent or envy Lena in the slightest, but by the God's if she didn't stop staring soon Ariadne would throw her spindly fork right at her eyes.
Lena flinched and Ariadne saw it out of the corner of her eye.
Kallen's laughter filled the air, it was deep and throaty.
"What?" Ariadne spoke around the mouthful of greens on her fork.
"Lena failed to mention she can hear thoughts?"
"Yes, yes she did," Ariadne put down her fork and glanced at Lena.
Lena's hand was gripping her fork so tightly her knuckles had turned white and threatened to burst through her tanned skin.
"You must have been broadcasting pretty loudly for her to hear," Kallen chuckled and picked up his goblet of wine.
His gaze swept over Ariadne from the rim of his goblet. Ariadne shifted in her seat, she wasn't uncomfortable; but she'd never been subjected to such a gaze before.
It was... Powerful.
She got the sense of something barely leashed. His eyes were dark, filled with a thinly veiled promise of something wild, primal even.
Ariadne picked up her own glass and gently sniffed it.
"It's OK, it's a castle wine, served by Kendra, it should be fine," the king leant forward in his seat, elbow propped on the table; his plate forgotten.
Ariadne took a small sip and swallowed. Immediately a deep, spicy liquid slipped down her throat. A tickle of honey hit the back of her throat and she took another sip. Kallen smiled.
"I'm glad you like it. Whatever did you think though, to make my darling sister flinch so?"
Ariadne didn't answer, instead she took a gulp of her wine and coughed. Too much.
