When I’m done, I leave my room and step out into the corridor. Scofield leads the way, while two more guards follow behind me. I should probably feel nervous that I’m about to be shoved into a royal welcome dinner, but I’m not.
I’ve spent far too many years being nervous. Being timid and worried. Always trying to make the first impression that Midas wanted me to make, whether that was shy or seductive, adoring or proud. He always had an angle to play.
With King Fulke, it was the lure of having me visible but not accessible. Teasing the man with me present in the background but always in my cage. There for him to covet, but unattainable.
I don’t know what Midas’s angle will be with the queen, but whatever it is, I hold no stake in it anymore. I’m not on Midas’s side. It’s not my goal to please him other than behaving enough to keep Digby safe.
Once downstairs and past the main hall, I walk through the doors into the formal dining room. The focal point of the space is the long glass table in the middle of the floor. It’s at least six inches thick, with bluish veins running through it to make it look glacial. Stretching along the top, the glass has been blown to spike up in jagged crystals like upside down icicles jutting from the center.
All around the table are high back chairs with plush purple cushions, enough seats for three dozen people. Unfortunately, nearly all of them are occupied.
I recognize a few of them: Midas’s advisors, Fulke’s advisors who used to visit with him in Highbell, but there are new faces too, I’m assuming from the queen’s kingdom.
The royals are congregated in the middle, looking across at each other between spires of fake icicles that are lit up between flickering candles. Midas sits with the prince at his left, their advisors sprinkled off to the side. With her back to me sits the woman who must be the queen. There’s really no question, not with the glittering crown resting on her head, thick sable hair securing it in place with pins of pearls and sea stars.
When I’m halfway across the room, Midas looks up from his discussion and raises a hand to beckon me over. Keeping my steps unhurried and even, I let my eyes sweep across the faces that turn to track my arrival.
Above me, the chandeliers throw off crystalline light, and there’s a harp in front of the windows behind the table. A fireplace is roaring off to the left, big enough that I could walk inside and sleep on its logs.
I round the table, murmured voices lifting to my ears as people sip from wine goblets, waiting for dinner to arrive. At least I’ll be able to stuff my face, because I suddenly realize that I’m starved.
As I reach his chair, Midas’s assessing gaze roves up my form, not with appreciation, but with appraisal, like he’s checking to make sure I’m suitable for his fancy supper. His eyes snag on the torn strip at the back of my dress, and a tic appears in his jaw. “Auren.”
I nod and give him the same sort of evaluating look, just to irritate him. “King Midas.”
Across the table, the queen of Third Kingdom arches a brow at my exchange. At the very least, a full curtsy would’ve been proper, but I won’t bow to him anymore. The only reason I’ll be bending the knee for him again is to jerk it right back up to hit him in the groin.
“So this is your golden girl…” The queen regards me with her attentive umber eyes, and I use the moment to do the same to her.
Her tawny complexion goes beautifully with the gown she’s wearing, the buttermilk fabric molding to her curves, with wide buttons down the bodice that shine like diamonds.
“Yes, this is her.” Midas’s hand reaches over to run a knuckle up my sleeved forearm.
My ribbons tighten around my hips, the silken strips going hard like they want to lash out and smack his touch away. A creepy crawly feeling tapers down my skin as he continues to stroke me, and it takes everything in me to school my features and not yank my arm away.
“Auren, meet Queen Kaila Ioana of Third Kingdom.”
I dip into a curtsy. “Your Majesty,” I murmur. “I hope your travels to Fifth Kingdom weren’t too taxing.”
Her lush lips pull up at the corners. “Not nearly as taxing as I’ve heard your travels were,” she replies. “Captured by the snow pirates, then taken by Fourth’s army, all while traveling across the Barrens into Fifth.” She makes a clicking noise. “It’s a wonder you’ve made it in one piece.”
“I was lucky that Fourth was there to intervene.”
Midas stiffens and drops his hand, though he says nothing to dispute my words. He and I both know it’s true. If I’d gone with the Red Raids, there’s a good chance I’d be dead right now. So much has happened since then. If Fourth’s army hadn’t been there, I would still be that girl pining after her captor.