Page 48 of The Chains You Defy

We entered a room that wasn’t the throne hall, much to my relief, but a rather cozy salon, if calling a chamber dripping in luxury laid-back was even possible. Our suite waselegant, but in comparison to this place, the guest wing accommodations paled.

Parts of the furniture—some chairs and two chaises—were crafted from silver-painted wood and rich, deep blue upholstery. They were gathered around a small matching table, which was decked with a silken tablecloth, their hues corresponding.

A three-tiered serving plate, overflowing with all kinds of delicacies and dominating the table, was surrounded by dainty cups created of the same material—the finest bone china I’d ever laid my eyes on.

Tapestries, soft carpets, and heavy draped curtains followed the same royal blue and silver color scheme, but I stopped my observation when movement alerted me to the presence of the queen.

She was dressed in a rather simple mauve dress with a high neckline, long sleeves, and a small trail of embroidery adorning the hem. The loose cut of the gown played around her figure but couldn’t conceal her advanced pregnancy. Apart from a massive golden wedding choker decorated with diamonds and rubies, she wore no jewelry, and her rust-colored locks flowed freely down her back.

Her sparkling green eyes rested on Dion and me, and the smile on her youthful face radiated a friendliness that couldn’t be faked.

Queen Anneria had been half the age of King Pritatus when they had married, half a moon after the celebrations in honor of his fiftieth birthday last winter. This meant she was only slightly older than me.

Dion let go of my arm, sank into a graceful bow, and my breath caught.

When had he changed into his fae form? He must have dropped his Glamour right after we’d entered the salon. Unprepared as I was, the reminder of his otherness hit me like a punch in the gut.

Everything was more about him. More beautiful, more regal, more lethal. Even though the predator in him shone through when he wore his human disguise, once he abandoned the pretenses and showed his true colors, there was no denying the truth. Dion was dangerous—in so many ways.

Luckily, only moments after the confrontation with the beauty of the fae male and my distraction thereof, a small voice in the back of my head reminded me where I was and that I had to curtsy.

At least, that had been my plan. But in reality, I had the elegance of a cow, and I normally wasn’t confronted with situations requiring such reverence. Of course, I gave my best, but a sharp breath escaped my lungs. The unfamiliar movement had triggered a searing pain in my knee, likely a remnant of my time as Feroy’s prisoner.

Maybe no one had noticed.

However, this hope was in vain. Dion’s head spun around, staring at me with narrowed eyes before he remembered his manners and turned back to Queen Anneria. A cold shudder climbed up my spine—the prince’s expression had been downright murderous for a moment.

“Ah, nothing of that; sit down and get comfortable, the two of you.”

Queen Anneria’s voice had a melodic and self-confident ring to it. She sounded like someone who had found her place in life and enjoyed where she was. With one hand on her swollen belly, she sank onto one of thechaises, and I was surprised by the informality of how she lounged in front of us.

Her watchful eye stayed on me as I clumsily rose and steered to a chair across from her. But I never arrived at the piece of furniture because Dion grabbed my hand and hauled me next to him on the second chaise.

My reproachful glare was met by a lopsided grin—starring one of his damned dimples—and under every other circumstance, nothing would have prevented me from snapping at him. Swallowing a huff, it was clear that, against my earlier assumption, Dion hadn’t turned softer at all.

Queen Anneria laughed gently, and the mortification that the woman, who was the closest to a female holding something akin to real power in this world, had been witnessing our little scene sent my stomach churning. Could I please vanish into thin air?

“Thank you for the invitation, Queen Anneria.” Ah, Dion had found his manners.

“Please, call me Ann. Both of you.”

“Of course, Ann.”

Had the queen of Ivreia really asked not only Dion—a royal like her—but also me, a nobody, to approach her in such an offhand manner? Overwhelmed, I developed a sudden interest in my shoes on the plush carpet and sat stiffly on the chaise while the fae prince next to me mimicked the queen’s relaxed posture. He had no care in the worlds.

“Tea?” Queen Anneria—no, Ann—offered. Without waiting for an answer, she reached for the exquisite teapot and began to fill the cups. “You must excuse the absence of a servant, but my husband insisted we meet without staff or courtiers present. Nonsense, if you askme. I never understood why we keep up this silly charade. For Amarion, doing so made some sense because he was grief-stricken, and maybe also for his successor, but nowadays?”

Oh gods, the queen was serving tea. My fingers twitched to take over, but the violet glow burning into my side was enough to fold my hands in my lap.

“Thank you. And if His Royal Majesty prefers our meeting this way, rest assured, I’m the last person to be offended by the absence of staff. Although I’m surprised he didn’t station guards along the walls. Your husband didn’t seem too happy when you told him about your desire to meet us.”

“Yes, your reputation makes him antsy. As tradition expects of him, he studied the old texts from a very young age. I don’t believe you’re shocked when I inform you that those accounts paint you in a rather unfavorable light.”

“Rightfully so.”

The sudden urge to shake some sense into Dion was overpowering. How could he look so calm—no, proud—when being confronted with his vile deeds?

“What I mean, Ann, is that as often as historians like to exaggerate the actions of a country’s—or world’s, in our case—enemy, in this scenario I can assure you that I’m not some misunderstood tragic figure used as a scapegoat by your ancestors.”