Of Blood and Roses

Chapter 10

Several hours later I was freshened up and standing outside Pierre's chambers. I wiped my hands on the folds of my skirt, willing myself to unclench them. I considered if I should turn back. Return to my room, take the advice I hadn't let Sabine give me.

But even as I considered it, I found myself unable to step away. I could hear music coming from within, a gentle violin playing a slow, enchanting melody. I straightened and took in a steadying breath.

I had already come this far, and it would be rude to leave now. Just one afternoon with the prince couldn't be that harmful.

I knocked.

Almost instantly, a tall lanky gentleman flung open the door, offering me a low bow as he ushered me in.

"Your Highness, the Prince awaits you."

Prince Pierre's parlor was the opposite of mine. If mine had been the soft and bright colors of Roserian summer day, his was all the darkness and shadows of a Garnetti winter night.

Dark ebony walls stood tall around me, gold flourishes surrounding glittering garnets. The ceiling was curved, depicting a night sky, stars shimmering in the ceiling where diamonds had been dusted upon it. Curved black furniture sat with golden metal frames. Black velvet touched nearly every surface. In the middle of the room sat a settee, is cushions lined with golden tassels. Resting upon it was Pierre.

The prince was stretched out languidly; one long leg bent so his heeled foot sat upon the floor, head tilted back over the armrest, so his long neck was exposed as a servant fed him ripe fruit. He did not wear the same bodice and jacket as the night before; this time favouring a loose white blouse with the ties at the neck undone, exposing a triangle of his golden skin.

At my arrival Pierre's hooded gaze flickered to me, allowing the servant to finish feeding him, his neck bobbing as he swallowed. My memory flashed to the day before when I had glimpsed him kissing a lover in this very room.

I curtsied. "Good afternoon, Pierre. Sorry that I am late."

Pierre smiled, slowly straightening as he got to his feet. He walked over to me, taking my hand. He did not wear his lipstick today, his features clean of any cosmetics, but he was just as dazzling. His dark hair was slightly mussed, the tips of his hair curling around his ears. He linked his fingers with mine as he walked me back to where he had been sitting.

"Late? Not at all. I only just woke up. The others will not be joining us quite yet."

I looked at him in shock. "You have only just woken? It is well past lunch."

He shrugged, unconcerned. "I had a late night last evening, as I do most days. It's not unusual that I sleep right through supper."

I frowned at him. "That has to be unhealthy."

He waved off the servant who held the bowl of fruit, gesturing for him to put it on the table before us. He picked up a grape, tossing it into his mouth. "I prefer the evenings. Besides, I don't have to put up with my father this way."

A violin player was standing atop a small dais, which acted as a small a stage in the room. It was clear that it was a place meant for entertaining. I saw a short glass half filled with a clear liquid on the table in front of us.

Pierre followed my gaze, a sly smirk lifting his lips. "Spirits brewed up north. A bit of an acquired taste, but it's stronger than wine." He reached out to take the glass, and I caught its strong, stinging scent. "A good antiseptic too, I hear."

A few people back in the court at home had been said to drink them. I had always avoided the stuff. I wrinkled my nose as he lifted the glass, taking a sip.