Chapter Six: The First Experience Of Court

My gaze took in the hall. Gold leaf clung to every surface, reflecting the harsh glare of a thousand candles until the room felt like a polished fever dream.

The air was heavy with the cloying scent of lilies and the rhythmic, predatory pulse of the orchestra. Between the shimmering silks and brittle laughter, I saw the court for what it really was: a sea of masks, each one more dangerous than the last.

They were watching me the way I was watching them. With barely disguised contempt and a hunger for the smallest slip-up.

I was prey in the midst of hunters.

Nobles came to greet me and offer their congratulations, a few lingering long enough to stare at my throat and whisper to each other when they thought I wasn't looking. It was rude, but I couldn't do anything about it.

A figure approached me, long after they'd left me alone. Her smile, which looked fake, gave me shivers.

Here comes the first test.

“Hello, my Lady.” Her smile widened. “I'm Lady Solvra of Jearna.”

Ah, the daughter of a noble Duke indeed. The Jearnas were known for their snobbery.

I made sure my bow was low. “Nice to meet you, my Lady.” I managed.

She laughed out loud. “Come on now, Your Grace, I should be the one bowing. After all, I'm not the one mated to the prince.”

Her eyes narrowed on my neck. I felt the urge to cover the bite mark but restrained myself.

“The sound of your voice must be a whole new tone for the prince, I'm sure.” She was showing more teeth.

If she hoped to get under my skin by indirectly mocking the depth of my voice, she was playing a dangerous game.

“A whole new tone, indeed,” she purred, her eyes flicking to the pulse in my throat.

“One wonders if the Prince prefers his... consorts to have such a command over the lower registers. It’s almost masculine, wouldn’t you say? Or perhaps it’s just the strain of trying to hit the right notes.”

I didn’t flinch. If she noticed the way the silk of my bodice hid the straight lines of my frame, or the way I kept my chin tilted to mask the strength of my jaw, she was keeping it for the kill.

She was daring me to speak again and prove her right.

“It's a lung problem.” I offered a smile. “Dear me and my daddy have tried absolutely everything to fix it. But the gods have willed it so. Besides, the Prince finds my voice... grounding. Perhaps you should ask him why he prefers it over the shrill tones of the court?”

She nodded, her expression changing to one of pity.

“Poor you, having to go your whole life with a voice in-between a woman and man.”

“Yes, poor me.”

Gods, how do I get rid of her?

I cheered in my heart when a servant bowed to me.

“Your Grace, the king would like a word.”

Better the king than this vulture.

I turned and smiled at her. “If you'll excuse me.”

I pivoted, following the servant as she led me towards where the king was.

The music dulled as we passed into a quieter alcove draped in velvet.

The king stood alone near a tall window, hands clasped behind his back. When he turned, his gaze settled on me.

His eyes traced my face without apology, lingering the way many others had tonight. There was no hunger in it, only appreciation, like one might give a rare object finally seen up close.

His eyes moved to my neck, lingering for a bit before offering me a smile.

I bowed to him and awaited his order.

“Lift your head.” He gestured lightly.

When I did, his mouth curved.

“Tell me, Raven… do you find our court to your liking?”

I hesitated, then remembered Denis’s voice.

Silk, not steel.

“It’s… lively,” I said. “And I’m grateful for the welcome I’ve received.”

Another smile, this one sharper.

“And my son?” he asked, as if the thought had only just occurred to him. “How do you find Eilís?”

There it was.

“He’s been considerate,” I replied, choosing each word. “More than I expected.”

“Mm.”

The king turned slightly, looking out the window.

“He can be difficult at times, withdrawn. His wolf also complicates things. It makes him seem a little different each time.”

His eyes narrowed on the last part.

Was he indirectly expecting me to spill a secret?

“I don’t find him difficult,” I said before I could stop myself.

“Hmm.”

He nodded, looking back at the window.

Silence stretched between us. I stayed where I was, hands folded, breathing measured.

The king studied me more closely this time, as if weighing not just my words but the way I stood, the steadiness in my voice.

His eyes flicked once more to my face, my hair, the line of my throat.

Approval settled there, quiet and unmistakable.

“I'm sure you've noticed Eilís is not in attendance tonight.”

I nodded, wondering where this was going.

“I do apologize for him. He has a bit of a hassle to handle at the northern border.”

“I understand, Sire.”

He stepped aside then, gesturing toward the hall beyond the alcove.

“Enjoy the evening, Raven. Let them admire you. It does us no harm for others to see what stands beside my son.”

I felt heat rise again, but I kept my expression calm.

“As you wish, Sire.”

As I turned to leave, his voice stopped me once more.

“And Raven,” he added lightly, “should you ever find yourself uncertain… remember that honesty, when offered sparingly, can be its own kind of power.”

I inclined my head once more and stepped back into the light, the music swelling around me again.

Eyes found me immediately, curious, appraising.

I kept my shoulders straight and my expression composed, even as a thought bothered me.

The king never asked about my voice.