Little Red's Riding

On the Verge

Dahlia saw him, down below, near the edge of the crowd, and clutched her brother's arm even more tightly than she had before. He hardly noticed. He was probably scanning the crowd, deciding which willing partner he would bed that night. If her eyes hadn't been fixed on her mate she might have rolled them, but she couldn't bear to look away from him for even a moment.

Something stirred in her chest and she raised her hand, feeling momentarily dizzy.

"All right Dahly? Not going to faint on me in front of the crowd? Is that corset laced too tight?" Deckard whispered the words in her ear as he led her down the stairs.

"I'm fine." She managed to say the words in a tight voice, certain that he would put off any nervousness that he heard to the fact that hundreds of eyes were focused on them as they descended the stairs. "I just didn't expect this many people."

Tansy, or the Lady Calla, as everyone would be thinking of her tonight, was walking down the stairs unaccompanied. Her face was a mask of calm certainty. Anyone who hadn't been in the room a half hour earlier would have no reason to guess that the day had been anything other than entirely ordinary.

"I'm so glad that you're here for this." Deckard's was comfortable here, his voice relaxed as they stopped on a wide carpeted space that was raised above the rest of the room, where there was a table that Dahlia realized had been reserved for their party for the night. She forced herself not to turn again to look over in the direction where she knew her mate was waiting for her, although she could feel him, and more than that, the feeling in her chest grew stronger, a sort of tight burning, along with a tingling at the tips of her fingers.

"Breathe. Just breathe." Tansy stopped next to her and raised an eyebrow in her direction, all while giving her a bright smile.

And then everything began to happen at once. The King turned towards Dahlia. Deckard stepped to the side and held out his arm. This had all been planned out and very briefly before leaving the room, Deckard had explained it all to Dahlia.

She needed to be presented to the King before the court. And this was a most prestigious occasion. It was an honor, her brother had stressed, in no uncertain terms. Dahlia had nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat. She hadn't seen Deckard since that day on the patio when he'd left her with Tansy to go see the King and he looked pale and thinner than she'd remembered. The stress of being back in the Capital seemed to be weighing heavily on him, or at least, something was.

Once upon a time this would have been a dream come true and so she did her best to pretend that this was that dream and she dropped into a low curtsey and looked up at the King through her thick, dark lashes and remembered that she needed to give the performance of lifetime if she was going to save, not just herself and her mate, but her new friend and her sisters as well.

As she rose smoothly, a sharp stabbing pain lanced through her gums, and she pressed her lips together, managing not to make a sound, as she grasped her brother's arm and stepped back. Tansy met her eyes and frowned, for just a moment, but no one else seemed to have noticed whatever it was that she had felt and she thought that for the most part she had played her part well, especially given the circumstances.

"So this, my friend's is the woman that we have all heard so much about. The much beloved sister of our brave Capitan Bakerson, who is now one of the most beautiful flowers to adorn our humble court." Stepping forward the King tossed a blond lock of hair back off his forehead and smiled boldly at Dahlia. "As the King I am claiming the first dance of the ball with this newest and most beautiful member of our court."

When Dahlia had stepped back she had lowered her eyes, her focus drawn to the odd ache that had returned to her chest, but at the King's words she looked up, half expecting him to be walking down the stairs with Morrow on his arm. Instead she was startled to find that he was standing in front of her with one hand extended, asking her to dance.