She needed answers.
Her anger built, slow and seething, fed by Ethan's betrayal.
"Your Majesty, forgive me, this woman just walked in." The soldier gestured, stiff with uncertainty.
Arianna ignored the stares.
The hush pressed close, heavy as sweat beneath the armour.
She held his gaze, her hands bound in control, resting like a weapon sheathed in coarse linen. "You presume much, soldier. I walk where I choose. And it's milady."
Her heart dropped. Harrowton was gone. Her title, forfeited. A stray in a foreign court.
Ethan spoke without pause. "It's Lady Harrowton, Laneez. Daughter of a duke. A Soltana through her mother. Show her the respect she's owed."
The female soldier offered a stiff curtsy, her armour groaning with the motion, then retreated.
As Laneez left, the air thickened. Ethan pointed to a chair beside him. "Will you not offer your king the courtesy of conversation?"
"I offer courtesy where it's earned," she replied. "And I do not recognize your tarnished crown."
Gasps followed her words. A ring-laden lord cracked his knuckles, hungry for more. Condemnation buzzed like hornets.
"Lady Arianna," Ethan said with evenness, "I'll overlook your impertinence. These have been trying days, and you've saved my life twice." His look sharpened into ice that had forgotten to thaw. "But test me again... and I won't be that forgiving."
She didn't budge. The murmurs grew louder.
"The lady requests a private audience." Ethan dropped his hand and clenched it at his side. "Leave us."
The tent emptied, tension trailing like a scent. Only Seether paused, bowing his head. In the torchlight, a pale line above his right brow caught the flame. A scar.
The flap fell closed, cutting off the last echoes of armour and boots. In their wake, the crackle of torchfire filled the tent like static in the throat.
Ethan walked to the table, past thick bedding and furs, and offered wine as a peace offering.
A worn sigil ring crested his finger.
She left the goblet untouched.
"So, what am I now?" she asked, her features cold. "A bartering chip for Riam?"? A political prisoner?"
"You remain my ward, under my protection. Nothing more."
Her laugh was bitter.
"Then stop parading me like a favour granted. I choose what I am and what I become. You may hold armies and titles, but not my will."
He flinched at her veiled contempt. She didn't miss it.
"What would you have me call you, then?" she asked. "The man who misled me, or the king who would silence me?"
A vein throbbed in his temple. "In public, you'll call me your liege. In private, it's Ethan, if you still dare."
"I dare plenty." She spun toward the exit.
He reached out. She twisted away before he could grasp her.
"Don't," she cautioned. "Not unless you want this entire court to know what kind of king you are."
Their eyes warred, scorched by pride. Neither blinked. Neither bowed.
"If you declare Arlington independent, you will bring war," Arianna said, her tone clipped. Was Ethan building a future or grasping at a mirage?
YOU ARE READING
King's Conquest (The Crown of Estoir)
FantasyThe empire of Estoir is ruled by an ancient but powerful Faelon family who had won the allegiance of other kingdoms through war and bloodshed. Hence, The Greater Estoir was born. There was once a rebellion by the King of Arlington some hundred years...
