Two star crossed lovers.
Nations divided by blood and power.
A war to end all others.
She is heir to the brutal Darkling kingdom and daughter to the most vicious king ever known, Vlad the impaler.
He's the Demon prince ru...
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The guests move towards the set table. It's long, a steady obsidian beast, with a raven colored cloth adorning it. The crowd, pressing together in a wave of colors to push me forward.
I see more of the aristocracy now as they pull to the front to get a better view. My eyes discreetly search for the fox again, but I can't find him in the sea of masks and glinting fangs.
Instead, they catch the movement of an old crone shuffling to the head of the table, where the royal family will take their seats.
She greets my Father with no formal movement but, rather, a simple hello and a caress to his arm. He, in turn, gives her a tender kiss to the forehead and a faint smile. Her ocher eyes then veer to me... and a fond smile creeps up her wrinkled features. She is the dowager queen and The Mother of the Dragon.
Vasillissa of House Tèpès.
I keep my back straight as I grin in acknowledgment, trying to recall how many years it's been since she was last present at any formal event. Longer still since she visited us just to see how we were getting along. After Irina was crowned queen, Grandmother wasn't much welcomed - seeing she favored my Mother over the second wife.
She strides across the Hall with her band of courtiers, the cherry haired wisp of a girl that now warms her bed included. They echoe her steps until she reaches Pavel's seat at the table - at the king's left hand side.
All inside the room stiffen. Not at her words or demeanor, but at the queen mother's battalion following close behind the lot. Rare, so very rare for them to track her, guard her. But the dark green gown she wears is now a silk reminder of her familial standing against the black of the High House.
Aegis. The shields against the Gifts. Most of which comprise the Royal Guard, alongside the Arsenals, and her own personal fleet.
The matron would be a fool not to take precautions when coming to the Capital.
I see my Father glide towards his seat, passing by her place at the table and rubbing a strong hand over her shoulder. Pavel then makes idle chit chat with her,affectionate expressions on both their faces.
I catch Irina's glare in the queen mother's direction, but if Vasillissa notices at all, she doesn't let on. She only continues to strike up conversation between Pasha and her little pet, Anfisa.
Soon, all attentions focuses on Father as he instructs the servants to reveal the dishes from under their silver covers. Piles of glistening berries. Birds of all kinds hardly cooked, dripping with redness. Candied pheasant hearts and sweet, cranberry juice steeped with crimson glee. A savory stew winks scarlet with rosemary and fragrant herbs. The sight of it makes my mouth run liquid. Both my necklace and the dress seem to squeeze me, confine me to a size I no longer want. My body readies for the feast I desire most.
