BK 1 - 05: Clearly sensitive to that

IRIS

The small dining room was completely quiet except for the clinking of our cutlery on the plate.

Tristan sat at the head of the table, his tall frame filling out a plain black tunic.

He ate in slow bites, looking every bit like a man who was used to long silences. I sat two seats down from him, keeping my eyes on my bowl of soup.

"You haven't eaten much," Tristan said, finally breaking the silence. His voice was low and flat.

"I am not very hungry, Your Grace," I replied, setting my spoon down gently.

"The food is not poisoned, Iris," he said, turning his eyes toward me. "My cooks do not waste their time trying to kill hostages."

"That is reassuring," I said softly, looking back into his eyes. "Though I was simply not hungry."

Tristan set his cloth napkin on the table and signaled to the corner of the room.

A servant immediately stepped forward, carrying a big box with silver hinges. He set the box on the table right beside my plate, bowed, and backed away.

I stared at the box. "What is this?"

"Open it," Tristan said quietly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

I unlatched the silver hook and lifted the lid.

Inside sat a fine blue gown with silver thread along the neck and cuffs. Beside the dress lay a small box holding a pair of matching silver earrings.

I brushed my fingers over the dress, feeling the cold smoothness. "It is very pretty. But why are you giving this to me?"

"Because you will wear it tomorrow evening," Tristan said, his voice completely unreadable. "There is a formal dinner in the grand hall. All the noble lords and their families from the inner territory will be attending."

I pulled my hand back from the dress, my heart giving a small thud. "A formal dinner? So soon?"

"Yes," Tristan said, his eyes watching my face closely. "You are my bride, Iris. The court needs to see you."

"They will see an Ashmoor girl," I said, keeping my tone calm. "They will not like me being here."

"I do not care," Tristan replied smoothly, standing up from his chair. "You are under my roof now. Be ready by sunset tomorrow. Chloe will help you dress."

He turned and walked out of the dining room before I could say another word, his boots echoing loudly until it faded away.

~

By the next evening, the grand hall was packed with people.

Music drifted so loudly, mixing with the loud chatter of dozens of people.

I sighed, looking around.

I didn't think this was supposed to be a very good idea but I have no choice but to attend.

I walked down in the beautiful blue dress, holding my hands loosely in front of me and as soon as I reached the main floor, three noble women in dark red gowns moved quickly to block my path carefully as I could see the sly smile on their faces.

Oh, not some rude spoiled ladies, I thought.

This was the one thing I'd told myself to avoid before getting here but now, I was met with three of them.

The woman in the middle had dark hair pulled up high and a sharp smirk on her lips.

"So this is the girl from Ashmoor," she said, looking me up and down. "I expected someone much more noble-looking."

"I am Iris," I said, giving her a small, polite nod. "And you are?"

"Lady Vanya," she replied, folding her arms over her chest. "We were all surprised when King Tristan cleared your family's huge debt. He's just so generous,” The ladies giggled while also rolling their eyes in what seemed like disgust..

“How does it feel knowing your brother traded you away just to save himself?"

The two women beside her giggled, watching me like hawks.

"My brother made his choice, Lady Vanya," I said, keeping my voice very calm as I knew that I'd immediately piss them off. "If you have questions about the King's choices, you should ask him yourself."

Lady Vanya’s smirk died instantly. Her face flushed pink, and she opened her mouth to snap back, but she caught sight of a few nearby lords watching us and snapped her mouth shut.

"You speak boldly for a hostage," she muttered, stepping aside.

"I am not a hostage and I am just answering your questions," I said softly, walking past her toward the side of the hall.

I grabbed a small glass of water from a tray, letting out a quiet breath.

A moment later, the loud chatter in the room suddenly died down.

Tristan stepped into the hall.

He wore a dark suit under a long cloak, looking handsome and at the same time, commanding.

Every noble in the room quickly bowed their heads as he walked down the stairs. He ignored them all, his eyes locking straight to me as he crossed the floor.

My skin prickled as he stopped in front of me.

"Lady Iris," Tristan said softly. "You look beautiful."

"My King," I said, bowing my head slightly. "Thank you for the dress."

"It suits you," he murmured, holding out his right hand to me. "Dance with me."

The words caught me off guard as my eyes widened slightly.

“I do not think this is a good idea, Your Grace,” I said softly, pulling back slightly as he offered his hand. “I never had dancing lessons. I am not a good dancer.”

“You do not need to be,” Tristan said, his voice flat as his fingers closed firmly around mine, leading me out into the center of the floor. “Follow my lead and keep your feet moving.”

The musicians started a slow tune.

Tristan placed his left hand on my waist, pulling me close to his chest while holding my right hand in his.

He was warm, and I could immediately inhale the cinnamon scent coming off of him.

My heart beat a little faster, but I forced myself to calm down.

“Look up,” Tristan murmured, his eyes down on mine. “If you keep staring at the floor, everyone will know you are nervous.”

“I am trying not to ruin your boots,” I replied, taking a small step to match his long stride.

“I have plenty of boots, Iris,” he said, a tiny flicker of amusement touching his lips. “You are doing fine. Just stop overthinking every step.”

I took a quiet breath, letting him guide my movements.

As he turned us slowly and we started dancing, my gaze instantly caught something that was a little fat off.

A young servant girl carrying a tray of wine glasses was backing away from two older lords.

One of the lords had his hand pressed to the pillar right beside her head, blocking her path while the other casually reached into his coat and slipped a small glass bottle into the wine pitcher on her tray.

In Ashmoor, my brother’s men used that exact poison trick to quiet servants.

“Tristan,” I whispered softly.

He blinked, caught off guard by my sudden use of his name without his title. “What?”

I stepped in closer, rising up on my toes so my lips were right below his ear.

“Don't drink tonight,” I whispered into his ear, my warm breath brushing over his skin. “I think the wine is getting poisoned and it's going to be handed to you.”

I wouldn't be so sure it was what I said that made Tristan's body immediately go rigid and when I realised how close my lips were to his ears, I immediately stepped back slightly.

A shiver ran straight through his body. His grip on my waist tightened so hard, I almost gasped.

I pulled back slowly to look at his face.

Tristan was staring down at me, his eyes wide and his chest heaving as if he couldn't catch his breath.

For a split second, his cold, calm mask was totally gone, replaced by an expression that was very unreadable.

He swallowed hard, his jaw clenching tight as he forced himself to stay still, though his fingers on my back were trembling slightly.

“Are you alright?” I asked quietly.

Tristan did not answer immediately.

He turned his head, his eyes actually catching the exact same lords I had seen poison the drink. He looked back down at me, his eyes dark and intense.

“I am fine,” he said, his voice lower and raspier as the music slowly came to an end.