The Dream Keeper's Dragon

2.22 When Push Came To Shove

Aurelie felt the painful rise of a new pimple right in the fold of her left nostril. It must have been the cold that warranted it. This one felt like it would give her nose a run for its money in terms of the size it'd reach. She picked at it incessantly while trying to keep up with Deborah as she hurried through the long, echoing hallway.

Deborah had woken her from her nap, made her wipe the sleep from her eyes and hurried her along toward the dining hall where the Queen was hosting some form of celebratory dinner which, she was told more than three times along the walk, was extremely important because one of the rebel leaders was in attendance. Aurelie hadn't heard a word about the rebels up until that point.

They stopped at a tall arch. The transparent walls—whether they were made from crystal or ice Aurelie couldn't tell—looked to be cracking from within. Aurelie's hot breath left a misty layer on the wall.

The guests had already been seated around a long, crystal table. Servants moved from person to person with a tray in hand, pouring drinks. One man stuck out among the rest of the nobles. He had broad shoulders, a thick auburn beard and wore a coat made of old animal skins as opposed the current favorite in the room which was white fur.

"This is as far as I'm allowed." Deborah bent to take a peek inside and stepped back. "Try the chocolate cake." She winked and patted Aurelie on the shoulder before walking away.

Aurelie took a few steps forward, and stood still below the archway, trying to spot an open chair. There were around thirty guests, all sharing eerie similarities.

A man to her right cleared his throat, startling her. "Princess Aurelie Dranoir of Highfire."

The chatter of the guests quietened and most, if not all, eyes fell on her. Aurelie found her chin rising at the mention of her name and land. The nervous tingle in her stomach seized and a calm confidence filled her.

The Queen rose and so did every one of her guests but one. Aurelie caught the wary glance of the rebel leader and kept it steady until a servant came to accompany her to the table. Lukas leaned over to a woman on his left and whispered in her ear. The woman moved from her place and walked around the guests to an open chair that Aurelie was intending to claim. Lukas smiled, and as if knowing that Aurelie was looking, glanced right at her and pulled out the chair, gesturing for her to sit with his hand.

Lukas had a sleek demeanor about him. The Queen's right hand, if the seating arrangement was anything to go by, was determined to please her. As a future king, he needed a queen. Aurelie, once an insecure modest girl, knew she was striking. Though, if his intentions were seduction, she understood that it was her throne and not her appearance that had attracted him. Whatever his reason, it was in Aurelie's interest to play along while she was a resident of his castle.

She walked his way and reached to the back of her neck with both hands, flipping her hair forward. Deborah, a curious soul, had wondered what would happen if Aurelie heated a small steel cylinder in order to curl her hair. She heard that one of the princesses had made one of the lady's maids do it by using boiling water. It didn't stay warm for too long because of the chill and she didn't have a dragon at her disposal so their experiment hadn't worked but Deborah's most certainly did. They used the cylinder to curl Aurelie's hair and managed to give her a full head of soft curls.

"Your Majesty," Aurelie greeted the Queen and curtsied.

"I hope your chamber was pleasing," the Queen replied, and extended her hand toward the chair where Lukas had remained waiting.

Aurelie move to the front of the chair and moments later felt a chilling breeze on her neck. "You look dashing," Lukas said and waited for her to sit before pushing the chair nearer to the table.