The Young Gods (The Young Gods #1) [NEW DRAFT]

•capítulo quince // chapter fifteen•

Rosa knows she has never seen so much light in her life. She feels as if she is on the brink of a precipice, staring out into an abyss of sound and flashing jewels, barely able to keep herself from falling. Her hands sweat in her gloves, and beneath her dress, her legs tremble.

"They're all staring," she squeaks to her father. The sight of him brings her some comfort. While her mother and sisters have stayed in Covigo, her father has journeyed across the country just to stand by her side.

His weary smile grows at the sight of her. "It's because you're beautiful, mi amor."

She manages a weak grin and takes his proffered hand. The applause dwindles as people dressed in their best finery rush toward her. The Sentinels that form a semicircle around her and her father move to hold them back, shoving away their eager hands and deflecting their questions.

Out of the chaos comes a sandy-blond head of hair. Rosa can barely see who it belongs to; she's never been very tall. The owner of that head pushes his way through the crowd and in between the ranks of the Sentinels protecting her. Who would have the authority to just move a group of armed Sentinels aside?

Her surprise is momentary. The sight of him explains everything. He's a Sentinel too, dressed in cool hues of blue and silver, epaulets gleaming in the light from the chandelier overhead. The sandy-blond colour of his hair extends to his pale eyelashes and eyebrows. Freckles dot his fair face. The corners of his warm brown eyes crinkle into a polite smile.

"Doña Rosalinda de Silva," he greets, striding forward, taking one of her gloved hands and bending to press a kiss upon her knuckles. "My name is Don Eden Tudor. I've been assigned to be your escort this evening."

"Tudor," her father echoes. "You're Don Valentine's substitute, aren't you? The Wilshorian?"

Eden Tudor straightens, his cheeks growing pink. "The same. Don't worry, Don Mateo. Your daughter is completely safe in my hands."

"I have faith. The Head Sentinel spoke highly of you in his message."

This makes Eden Tudor's eyes go wide. "Really?" Then he tugs at his collar, laughing. "I didn't know I was so important to him."

"Clearly you are." Her father turns to her. "You can go on, Rosa. I'm going to catch up with a few friends."

"Are you sure?" Rosa asks.

Mateo de Silva waves a hand. "Of course, mija. Do as you like."

Her father makes his way into the ballroom, mustering up a loud hola for old acquaintances. Rosa shifts her weight from one foot to the other. She darts a nervous glance to Eden.

"I'm ready to go when you are, Doña Rosalinda."

Rosa hides her shaking hands behind her back, inching her way towards the crowd. Her gaze moves quickly over the people- all the people- taking them in all at once. While some press against the Sentinels, hoping for a peek at her, some whisper behind their hands, laughing.

"He must've been looking for someone... fertile, at the very least," a woman titters.

Rosa takes a step back. Fertile? Is that why the king looked at her in the way that he did?

Eden clears his throat. "Doña Rosalinda?"

The ceiling of this room makes her feel about a finger's length tall. She feels like one of the mice that her mother's treasured cats used to chase around the manor, caught between razor-sharp claws and dangling precariously close to a gaping mouth.