She felt blessed, like the Stars themselves had granted her this. There was no limit, no rules or constraints. She was boundless; she was home, safe and secure in his unbreakable embrace.
~
Shackled in an abrupt and demanding upbringing, Althera is...
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Getout!" Ranorae screeched, flinging the hairbrush onto the floor. Her maid scuttered away with a cowardly whimper. All the other servants stood along the back wall, unbudging, afraid to make even the slightest noise. "Get out!" She screamed again, near tears. "All of you!"
It was an all too well-known fact that the king hadn't come to see her in weeks. She didn't mind, for she knew he was much busier than normal in preparation for the early winter. But it hurt her anyway, not being able to see his face and feel his hands on her. The aching hole in her chest burned, and she bristled. Thank the Stars her servants had left, or she would've done horrible something to them she was definitely going to regret later.
Her mother's words were still carved into her mind, and she wouldn't forget them. She had charm, and she was going to use it. But first, she would need to make sure the dark bags under her swollen eyes were hidden, along with the red, hectic blotchiness of her cheeks. Years of teaching and learning with her maids had helped her understand the ways of caring for herself and her appearance.
Expertly, she applied a thin coat of powder atop the skin of her face like her lady-in-waiting taught her, deliberately smudging it over the dip under her eyes. The grayish half-circle was gone, and she smiled proudly to herself. Next in line to fix was the paleness of her lips and cheeks, which she solved easily by pinching them, drawing color to rest daintily on her face.
When she was finished, she turned to head for the dressing room. But she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the male figure in the doorway, arms weaved together, with the wall supporting his body weight. He was dressed in a loose tunic of light brown looped with a belt. An empty sword case hung at his waist. But what caught her breath wasn't his attire. It was his handsome face which held her favorite delicate grin.
"Ranorae." His voice was husky and warm.
She tried to move - to make herself curtsey before him, but her legs refused to bend. They were stiff, and she stood there in silence, watching his beautiful smile broaden.
"Ranorae, how have you been?" He came toward her then, eyes glittering like stars. Oh, how she longed to melt completely in his strong, powerful arms.
Somehow, she managed to gather enough will-power to find her voice and reply, "Excellent, Your Majesty." Then she curtseyed, tugging up her skirts. His hand cupped her elbow, raising her back up.
He seemed to be rather in a good mood, she noticed with satisfaction. But then her cheeks flamed up in embarrassment when she realized he could've been there at the door the whole time she was yelling pathetically at her servants and applying her cosmetic products in front of the mirror.
"Haven't I told you to call me by my first name?" His voice was feathery light. She gulped, stunned. But then he changed the subject, to her relief.
