Page 110 of The Chains You Defy

“Are you calling my winter solstice present a joke?” Narrowing my eyes, I showed her my teeth to remind her I was done tolerating her shit.

Her face fell, and for the first instance in a very long time, she shied away from me. Good, she’d gotten the message.

Sadly, she caught herself much too soon and grabbed my arm. “No. Apologies, Your Royal Highness. Thoughtful gift. But maybe we should head to the ball now? We’re late. I believe everyone is waiting for us.”

Dipping my chin once, I didn’t correct her on how not a single soul anticipated her arrival, but strolled down the corridor.

My patience to deal with Danartha had been spent before I’d even approached her door, and the most challenging part of our conversation was still lying in front of me.

A blunt pain throbbed in my temples. The prospect that I was forced to explain in no uncertain terms—again—that there would never be something official between me and her had me nauseated.

Sure, we’d fucked a few times when we’d been younger—she had been available, willing, and enthusiastic, and sinking my cock into her had been convenient—but the older she’d turned, the more insufferable she had become.

Gods, what had I done wrong in a former life that I was punished with a nuisance like Danartha in this one?

The female in question droned in my ears as we hurried to the giant reception hall, but I wasn’t interested in what she was yapping about. Instead, I hoped for every guest attending this farce that Nayana had already arrived, and I’d find her unharmed.

And if not—

I might not be able to hurt my grandfather, but no one else was protected like him.

Two hundred and twelve winters ago, I purged an entire fae city in the span of five minutes. I bet I could annihilate a royal palace in three.

A fine line existed between dreams and nightmares.

Sometimes, only details set those two apart—a twist in the wrong direction, a situation gone bad.

Attending a royal ball dressed like a woman of rank and status should have been a dream, but as I followed the unfriendly fae, who had picked me up before Dion and I could meet and who had been adamant that I had to accompany him instantly rather than waiting for the prince to return, I was convinced the whole affair would turn out to be a nightmare instead.

Earlier, when I’d seen my dress for tonight, my breath had caught in my throat. None of the garmentsI’d received in Alaiann was anything less than fancy, but the finery of my ball gown was something else entirely.

Fae fashion was a lot airier than human one, but this dress married both styles to perfection. Tailored from crimson silks, taffeta, lace, and gossamer, the corset top hugged my curves snugly, and some of the panels consisted only of lace, which made them partially transparent—my breasts were fully hidden away, though. The skirts flared out from where the top ended, taking up as much room as the gowns of Ivreian noblewomen, but layers of different fabrics created the breezy look favored in Galanta. Gold accents and embroidery decorated the piece, and at least one of the fabrics was dusted with the finest gold specks, which elicited a glittering effect and reminded me of stardust.

My hair had been fashioned into an updo, but a few locks cascaded from the creation, framing my face. The maid who’d helped me had praised my tresses and had assembled—at least in my eyes—a masterpiece.

Still, as my guide led me through some narrow corridors, it dawned on me that tonight, everything apart from my garb had been designed to embarrass me and to put me in my place.

The male in front of me even had the audacity to lie. He’d claimed His Royal Highness had left detailed instructions that staff must follow to the letter. So either he’d mixed up highness and majesty, or he’d been attempting to sow dissonance between Dion and me. Considering that the prince had ensured I was dressed to perfection, I would have to be stupid to fall for this blatant falsehood—even if I didn’t know Dionas well as I did.

We approached the throne room, but my guide didn’t lead me to the giant arched doors. Instead, he ushered me through a servant’s entrance. Once inside, I found myself in a far corner of the splendid hall, where a lone plain wooden table, surrounded by eight chairs, stood almost completely hidden behind an enormous marble pillar.

Ah, the commoner’s table Galrach had mentioned.

“This is your spot. Sit down and stay put.” The male who’d brought me here huffed before hurrying away as if he were afraid of catching a deadly disease should he spend just one more second in my presence.

As I lowered myself onto the least rickety chair, I almost toppled to the ground.

That men usually helped women take a seat suddenly made sense to me. Still, in the end, I wrestled the fabric into submission, sat securely, and examined my surroundings.

The other tables lining the dance floor were splendid and decorated with all kinds of finery and lush flowers in all colors of the rainbow, while mine was only decked with a wooden dish, a simple glass, and some bread with cheese on a board—no one had even bothered covering the rough surface with a tablecloth.

There was no food on the other tables, and I concluded that the guests who were—contrary to myself—welcome would be served.

If Galrach wanted to humiliate me in front of his High Court and demonstrate to everyone what my place in this society was, he’d succeed all the way. As much as I tried not to care, the reddish color of my cheeks wasn’t due to beauty products alone.

Did Dion know?

Gods, if he didn’t, I could only hope he wouldn’t explode.