“Well, isn’t she just a golden doll?”
My attention goes to the man sitting to the queen’s right, and I immediately see the family resemblance.
“My most trusted advisor and brother, Manu,” the queen introduces.
He has thick black hair pulled back tight at the nape of his neck, and he’s wearing a yellow vest beneath his dress jacket, a tuft of silken fabric pooling out across the neckline. With one hand holding his goblet and the other flung across the back of the chair of the man sitting next to him, he gives me a look that I can only describe as delighted.
“Keon, don’t you think she’s a doll?” he asks, leaning into the man at his side.
Keon runs dark brown eyes over me, the shine from his bald head gleaming beneath the chandeliers and highlighting the dangling necklaces roped down his front. “She’s taller than I thought she’d be,” the slight man responds.
Manu nods. “And look at that hair.” He leans in, the collared frills gaping down to reveal his tawny chest beneath. “Doll, you could sell that for barrels of coin.”
“Umm…thank you?”
Queen Kaila shoots him a look. “Don’t fluster King Midas’s favored, brother. It’s bad manners.”
A dazzling smile encroaches over Manu’s handsome face. “But being bad is so much more fun, dear sister.”
She gives him a deadpan look, though it’s impossible to miss the affection sparkling in her eyes.
“Ah, dinner is served.”
Midas’s announcement pulls everyone’s attention to the dozen servants filing in from a doorway at the back and carrying platters of food.
“Auren.”
I look over at Midas, who gestures to the empty seat at his right. My brows notch up in surprise. He’s never had me sit beside him at a formal dinner, especially not at a table full of royals. I take a tentative seat, though my hackles are up, wheels churning. Because this isn’t a boon. This isn’t him showing me favor. I just don’t know what his play is yet.
The servants begin to place heaping platters of food along the table, the scent of syrups and sugars immediately engulfing the air, while I silently hurry along the setting sun so I can eat and, more importantly, drink.
Picking up my goblet, I find it empty. That just won’t do. “Excuse me, may I have some wine?” I ask the servant nearest me.
The girl dips her head and retreats as soon as her platter is set down. Up and down the table, voices are lobbed back and forth, everything boring and political. Since it’s not night yet, I can’t eat. Well…I could, but the moment it touched my lips, I’d be chewing on metallic gruel.
So instead, I pretend and make myself look busy. I drown out the talk by serving myself from the platter nearest me. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look very appetizing, but it’ll have to do. With my spoon held in my gloved hand, I stir around the coagulated sugary oats.
I’m really going to need some wine to wash this stuff down.
“So, Doll, I heard you got captured by the Fourth Commander hunk.”
Startled, my eyes rise to Manu between two cerulean blue icicles of the table’s glass centerpiece, finding his features lit up with mischievous intent.
I shoot Midas a look out of the corner of my eye, but he and Niven are talking about something. “Yes, I was.”
“Now there’s a story ripe for the dinner table.” Eager eyes stay riveted on mine as one brow arches up. “I wouldn’t mind being captured by him. All those hard spikes and thick…muscles.”
I practically choke on my tongue, feeling my cheeks flaming with heat.
Beside him, Keon reaches over and stabs a hunk of meat right off Manu’s plate and shoves it into his glowering mouth as he gives him a glare. Manu just laughs and smacks a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t pretend you wouldn’t jilt me in a second for that monster man.”
Keon points his fork at him. “You jilt me, and I swear to the Divines, you will regret it.”
“Ooh,” Manu purrs. “How positively titillating.”
Keon snorts.
My lips tilt up, their banter making this dinner seem not so awful after all. “How long have you two been married?”
“Three months,” Manu chirps.
“Three years,” Keon corrects with a roll of his eyes before he steals more food off his husband’s plate.
“Ah, that’s right,” Manu says, plopping a grape in his mouth. “Time flies when you’re riding good c—”
“Carriages,” Keon quickly intervenes, cutting him off with an elbow to the arm, stealing hurried looks at the frowning advisors.