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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"I'm listening."
Sitting in the expansive and lush waiting area readied for the Orel party, Sasha lifts a delicate-looking glass of bloodwine to his lips, careful not to spill a drop on his dark crimson cravat. I resist the urge to fling a remark at him when I catch him eying my maid. Yet, at the moment- I was in no place to anger my relatives, especially the Duchess sitting across from me, awaiting my response. Her foul mood was almost palpable.
"Well, it's not nearly as serious as you might believe," I say, swirling the wine around my own glass, marking that Sasha has prudently stopped ogling Iskra. "our little spat was just that... nothing to warrant a scolding or cause alarm."
Czar comes to sit next to his mother, a book in hand. The Orel matron leans back on the seat, inspecting her long-fingered hand and manicured nails. "The guards say the prince was livid. He stormed away from you..."
The way she said it, the way she nonchalantly let me know how she kept track of everything that occurred inside these palace wall, was enough to set me off kilter. But I didn't allow it.
"Am I to understand that I must forever hold my tongue and marshal my thoughts in the hopes of avoiding a discussion with my future husband?" When I irritably brush the side of the glass, my aunt grins.
"Not forever. Just until you're officially wed and secure your standing in this invernal realm - then, you can rage and bicker all you'd like, niece."
Until I bare him an heir, she deliberately forgets to mention.
We have the same porcelain, ivory skin, my aunt and I - the same high cheekbones and sharply arched eyebrows, but her deep ruby eyes belong to her kin and they remind me of Mother. Yet, none of the former queen's softness lays inside them.
"Why were you arguing in the first place?" My aunt questions. "Wedding arrangement are nearly finished, now is not the time to be picking fights..."
I wave my free hand lazily, leaning over the soft arm of my seat. "There'sno need to worry, the Prince has already sought to make peace ... his fondness for me is evident."
Aunt Ksenia looks so small next to Czar. Frail yet undoubtedly attractive. She's still very much in her prime, having centuries ahead of her. She knows how to use her appearance to her advantage. "I have to admit I'm surprised you speak of the Second Son of Northa so thoughtfully. I had come to believe you'd renounced the idea of having any kind of closeness with him?"
"He has proven different to my initial assumptions." I nod to my maid in appreciation of a tray of baked treats she's brought to the fine wooden table between us.
