Kastali Dun
Desaree and Jocelyn found Sarah just after sunset. Together they made their way to a vantage point right outside the keep's gatehouse. It was an ideal place to watch the start of the procession. Ranks had already formed as everyone assembled to watch Lord Cyrus travel through the city.
The warm summer air had not yet let up, and those carrying torches added to the heat. As if afraid to disrupt the mood, mourners cried soundlessly. Only hushed whispers could be heard as they floated through the orange glow. The speculation of a thousand onlookers created a sea of undertones that carried itself down the lines of progression where Cyrus would soon be carried.
Packed tightly in the crowd, Desaree, Jocelyn, and Sarah stood on their tiptoes to see over the heads of the other watchers.
"I have never seen this many gathered," Jocelyn whispered, eyes wide. It was true. She'd never taken part in a gathering of so many people.
She turned her gaze to where the main assembly was. From the gate, the parade would snake its way through the city until it reached the defensive walls. Outside Kastali Dun, there was a huge pyre constructed by the cryptons. In keeping with tradition, Cyrus's body would be burned by the fiery breath of the king himself. This was the way of the Drengr Fairtheoir.
Musicians had already formed ranks to take the lead. They stood motionless like statues, holding their instruments at the ready. Then, as if cued by her gaze, they began. A hauntingly sad tune echoed from the towering walls of the buildings that bordered the street.
The musicians began the march, pulling everyone else forward. The people in the crowd cast flowers onto the ground, covering the way for the procession. In that moment, the great sorrow permeating the air burst like an inflated pig's bladder, and the cries of many joined the heart wrenching tunes of the sad music. Grasping Sarah's and Jocelyn's hands, she gave each a reassuring squeeze.
"Here comes the king!" Sarah gasped. Indeed, the king had just come into sight. His proud form, heightened by the gold crown upon his brow, was difficult to miss. "Do not look directly at his face," Jocelyn warned, her voice hushed. "He will know."
She didn't dare!
The common rumor was that the king despised any attention brought about by his scarred face. In truth, his reputation was more frightening than the deep lines upon his skin. But she wasn't willing to take any risks.
They were unable to see much over the heads of everyone else, but Desaree saw the bier lifted by the cryptons who carried it. Cyrus rested atop. An ornate beaded cloth had been draped over him, hiding what lay beneath. Her eyes were drawn to the beauty of the rich beads that shimmered and sparkled. There must have been thousands sewn into place.
Flanking the bier were the king's five remaining Shields. The king walked in front, his head bowed in defeat. Like the crowd, these Drengr also wore steel gray—the color of a sad sky—with dragon head sigils embroidered just above their hearts.
She tried to get a better look at Lord Verath, pushing herself as high as her toes allowed. When she caught sight of him, her heart stuttered. His expression was hard and grim. It spoke volumes to how he felt, escorting his fallen comrade. All of the Shield's faces were that way—etched with grief.
Just as quickly as they came, they passed. The music died down, and the procession continued further into the city. She heaved a sigh. Most of the crowd trailed after, making its way down the street. With them went the sad cries. Her longing gaze followed after them.
"We'd better run along now," Sarah murmured, breaking the spell. "Tess will have a fit if we're late. Jocelyn? Will you be returning with us?"
"I think I'll continue with the procession," Jocelyn said, bidding them farewell.
Desaree and Sarah made their way back into the keep.
The feast that followed brought many guests. They ate and drank away their sorrows, telling stories of Cyrus. Desaree stayed busier than ever, assembling and delivering platters of food to the dining hall. Steaming rolls, caramelized carrots, potatoes, leafy greens. As soon as one dish was placed before a table of hungry mouths, she was required to fetch another. By the end of it her body ached.
Only once that night did she glance up to the head table. She noticed that there was little conversation taking place between the king and his Shields. She allowed her gaze to wonder along the table until it fell upon Lord Verath. Their eyes met. Her heart stopped. She quickly looked away, pretending not to have noticed him. After that, she avoided him entirely.
At long last, the feasting came to an end. Nearly everyone had retreated from the dining hall. She found herself delivering the final empty platters to the cookery. Relief drove her, and eagerness. All she could think about was being comfortably tucked away in her bed.
"Ah, Desaree! There you are!" Tess with another tray. Its contents were hidden by plate covers.
She groaned, eying it. "Another? Can I not rest for the night?"
"Not yet dearie. Take this to Lord Verath." Tess thrust the tray into Desaree's hands as she sputtered.
"Lord...Lord Verath?" Her stomach fluttered. "But...did he not get his fill at the feast?"
"Gods child! It is not for you to question a lord's command!"
"But...why me? There are others here—"
"Because he requested you!" Tess whacked Desaree with her wooden spoon. "Now get. Go on."
Her shoulders fell. Blowing loose strands of hair from her face, she forced one foot in front of the other, trying to hold back another groan as she left the cookery.
She hadn't even realized what a mess she was until now. Holding the tray away from her, she looked down at herself. "Gods above," she swore. Food splatters dotted her apron. "You look like you've taken a tumble in the pigpens." She was certain that her hair was in a fit state of disarray too, as strands freed themselves from her braided plait.
A strangled laugh exploded from her chest. Of all days. Of all times. Lord Verath had summoned her. "Why must he always see me at my worst?" she muttered. The empty corridors gave her no answer.
She had avoided Lord Verath since their first encounter. The last few mornings when he requested breakfast, she traded the duty with the other servants. There would be no escaping him now.
A dead silence had fallen over the keep. In their exhaustion, the guests and patrons had finally retired to their beds. She wished she could be curled up in her own, hiding under warm blankets. Nonetheless, her tired feet made their way to the Hall of Kings, albeit not without minor protests in the form of aches and pains.
She stopped outside of Lord Verath's chambers, knocking more loudly than she ought to have. The door opened immediately, as if he'd been waiting beside it.
"Good evening, Desaree." His deep voice made her skin flush. "Come in." He stepped aside.
"Good evening, my lord," she said, entering. A click sounded as the door closed. She kept her eyes on the tray and made her way across the room. Gods! Why did the table have to be so far from the door?
"I apologize for keeping you late," said Lord Verath. "I am well aware of the hour." She made no reply. "If you will forgive me for it, I believe the need is dire."
A snort bubbled from her chest. She disguised it as a polite cough. Dire? Gods above! He had just eaten. How dire could it possibly be?! She set the tray upon the table.
"Have you eaten?" he asked, coming to stand across from her.
"No, my lord." Her face flushed anew. She'd worked so hard there'd been no time for dinner, and she would have eaten afterward, had Tess not sent her to his room with another gods damned tray.
"Good. I had hoped not. Stay and eat with me." She faltered, her hand hovering over one of the platters. "Well?"
Her heart fluttered. "Thank you, my lord, for your invitation, but I am not hungry. I must respectfully decline."
"Nonsense. You have not eaten. You must be hungry."
She opened her mouth—
"Sit! I command it of you."
She scurried to sit, afraid to disobey a direct command from a lord. He moved around to push her chair in before taking the one across from her.
Her hands trembled. She clasped them together in her lap, fidgeting with her fingers. The food on the tray did look spectacular. An entire leg of roast goose and gravy, mashed potatoes, fresh baked rolls, and leafy greens. She inhaled, hiding the sigh that threatened to escape her chest. There was even pie! She adored pie.
Her eyes devoured everything as Lord Verath studied her, letting silence stretch out before them. "Have some of everything," he said at last, handing her the only empty plate on the tray. "I insist."
As if in a daze, she began dishing a bit of everything. The fragrant scent of herbs left her stomach growling. Mortified, her hand flew over her abdomen. Lord Verath's booming laugh broke the silence. Her skin burst into flame. She stole another glance at him only to find that he was laughing at her!
"See?" His eyes danced with mirth. "And you told me you weren't hungry. What say you now?"
She couldn't form words, so she gave him a shy smile and returned to the food. It came as no surprise that everything was delicious, the roast goose especially. She ate it slowly to savor it. Once she began eating, it was difficult to remember how weary she was.
"Is it to your liking?" Lord Verath asked.
"Yes, my lord. It's...excellent."
"Please, I insist you call me by my name."
"Of course, Lord Verath." She didn't dare look at him.
"No, I meant—" He paused to sigh. "Verath will do."
"As you wish, my—Verath." Oh, gods! She withered with embarrassment.
He chuckled.
She ignored him, trying not to fall apart. Instead, she turned her attention to the pie, scooting away her emptied plate, greedily setting the slice in front of her. Verath showed no interest in the pie, and why should he? Surely he'd had plenty of pie at the feast.
She stole a glance and caught him grinning. Fine. Let him laugh all he wanted. She had every intention of savoring this.
Maybe that's why he'd invited her here, she reasoned. To entertain him. Well, at least he made it worth her while, bribing her with food. Good food—at that. She was never one to turn down the cook's food, and her curves showed it.
With the first bite, her eyes closed in enjoyment. Instead of fretting over Lord Verath's attention, she focused on the savory taste of berries doused in glaze filling. And the crust, so flaky and buttery. It was heaven. Absolute heaven.
"I see your bruise has improved." Lord Verath broke the silence.
She froze her chewing and opened her eyes.
"I did not appreciate your refusal when I last asked who was responsible. You ought to have told me." Her muscles tensed. "Come now. You need not fear me. It merely makes me angry to see such mistreatment, especially towards you."
"Thank you for your concern, my lord. It's healing well enough." The mark of Caterina's hand had all but disappeared two days ago. She cleared her throat. "Forgive me, but I truly have no desire to discuss it."
"I could make you tell me, Desaree," his voice was low. "I could command it of you."
Her stomach dropped. He could if he really wanted to.
"I would prefer that you do not," she whispered. "I cannot...I cannot risk her finding out."
"Her?" Lord Verath's brows knitted. "It was a woman and not your lover?"
She sputtered. "My—my what?"
"Your lover."
"I...I don't have one," she stammered, absolutely mortified.
His eyebrows rose. "I see. And you are afraid that if you tell me, this woman will find out?" She nodded. "What if I can promise you otherwise? Would you tell me?"
She opened her mouth, then shut it tight, considering his words. Her heart sped up in her chest. "You promise she will not find out?"
"I promise. You have my word." He laid a hand over his heart. The king's Shields were honorable. They did not lie or cheat. If Lord Verath promised, then she could trust him.
"Very well. I will tell you. It was Lady Caterina."
"Lady Caterina?" His brow furrowed for a heartbeat before he quickly hid any evidence of surprise. She fidgeted in her chair. "I should have known. She is certainly an evil woman, is she not?"
Her eyes widened, but a weight seemed to leave her shoulders and she relaxed. "What did she do to you to make you dislike her?"
Verath chuckled. "She has done nothing to me, thank the gods! It is what she does to the king that drives me mad."
A tiny gasp escaped her lips. The king? Caterina had mentioned something about a marriage proposal and becoming queen.
"Can you keep a secret?" Lord Verath asked, his eyes twinkling. She nodded. Secrets, after all, were her forte.
"Lady Caterina has been after King Talon for years. He despises her, but that does not hinder her. She makes it painfully obvious that she wishes to be queen. Being the petty woman that she is, she is not interested in his...handsome face."
She burst into a fit of uncontrolled laughter. It couldn't be helped. For the first time since entering Lord Verath's presence, she felt all her nerves melt away. "This does not surprise me," she said through her gasping. "I do recall Lady Caterina speaking of her desire to be queen the day she struck me."
"Did she?"
"Oh yes. She claimed to hold the title very soon."
"Gods above!" Lord Verath shook his head. "Sadly, Caterina is delusional. The king has given no answer, nor do I think he will."
"That is a blessing indeed."
Her smile faded and she turned serious. "The king understands her motives, I hope? She is beautiful to be sure, but her charm is false."
"Aye, he sees through her."
"Few have the ability. Caterina has a way with acting."
"Does she?" Lord Verath lifted his eyebrows, feigning surprise. "I hadn't noticed."
"You're teasing me, aren't you?"
"Indeed."
"Well then, if you had not yet noticed, then perhaps she is not trying hard enough."
He chuckled. "Believe me, she does try. But it is achingly obvious to the king. He knows what her motives are. He has no interest in them or her. He has no interest in women at all, really. He gave them up long ago."
"Truly? He prefers men then?"
"No, no. Not that it would matter." Verath waved his hand in dismissal. "The king is simply not interested in either."
"But he is so young! Surely he still seeks love, despite the common knowledge that..." She trailed off, afraid to mention his failure of finding a mate.
"Some claim that his scars are to blame," Verath said. "We have assured him that they are not so bad, but he will not hear it. Bah! He is entirely too self-conscious."
"I see." She almost pitied the king.
They fell silent so she went back to her pie, picking out a few berries and plopping them into her mouth. The juice exploded on her tongue, its tangy flavor overpowering her senses.
She glanced up at Lord Verath. He sat watching her.
"Why did you invite me here tonight?" she asked, unable to bear her own theories any longer.
He hesitated, as if considering his next words. "From my observations, you worked hard tonight, as you always do." His gaze darted to the front of her apron. Oh, gods! She glanced down and blushed. "What impresses me the most about you, Desaree, is that I have never seen you in poor spirits. There is always a smile upon your face and a warm greeting to be had. You are kinder than you ought to be to many who do not deserve your gentleness." Her mind tripped over his words. "As to why I requested you specifically. I assumed you would be hungry, so I called you here tonight because I wanted you to have a nice meal."
She opened and closed her mouth several times, stunned. Stunned that he had noticed all those things about her. She hardly knew what to say.
His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say more. He drummed his fingertips on the arm of his chair. "We Drengr are often selfish," he mused.
She barked a laugh. "Forgive me, but I find that hard to believe. I've heard many stories regarding your kind."
"Oh?" The corner of his mouth twisted into a smile.
"Selfish is not the word I would have chosen. Honorable perhaps? Selfless?"
He chuckled. "Perhaps, but behind all that we are greedy. A Drengr is only half human. The other half..."
She knew what he meant, but it was not for her to argue. Dragons in the tales of old were known to be greedy, bloodthirsty beasts. Verath was neither.
"I am selfish, Desaree, because even though I hide behind the pretense of inviting you here to feed you, I felt lonely tonight. I thought perhaps your company would lift my spirits."
Her heart should have rejoiced. His were the words she both wanted and dreaded. Wanted because they made her so warm. Dreaded because loving a King's Shield was dangerous.
"You look...disappointed."
"Disappointed?" she squeaked. She shook her head, doing her best to appear the opposite. "No. I'm...I'm honored, my lord, to be considered fit company for a Shield."
"Verath...remember?" He smiled. "I insist that you refrain from titles, especially when we are alone together."
Gods above! Her heart could have failed in that moment. She could have died happy.
"Now then, it is getting late. Off to bed with you. You can take the pie along. I will have my own servants take the rest to the cookery in the morning."
She blinked back at him, dumbstruck. "I...thank you."
"It is my pleasure."
She smiled wide and picked up the pie, leaving his room. That same smile plastered to her face refused to depart even in sleep as she dreamt of him that night, and many nights to come.
⭐🌟 DON'T FORGET TO VOTE!!🌟⭐