The Palace of Erosa, the Kingdom of Aertisia,
The jaquelle's thick costume paints felt dry and heavy, silk dancing skirt too thin, hair pins too tight. The hair at her nape tingled before the lightening strike.
The king was coming.
His Will bore down upon her as he approached, like thumbs gouging into her neck and shoulders, slowing her retreat.
He stormed through the archway from the Great Hall, and the pressure forced her to her hands and knees. The beaded bangles of her headdress clattered around her face.
«What was that?» The king demanded as he came round her.
Drink coloured his cheeks above his tawny beard.
The jaquelle flinched in anticipation but still cried out when his foot crushed her hand still grasping her dancing ribbon.
The king snatched it. «Your incompetence is complete. You cannot even impress a horde of Cluvani.»
His hands reached for her, but before she could lurch back, he wound the satin under her chin and hauled her up by the throat until they were eye to eye.
The tips of her slippers scrabbled for purchase along the floor. He twisted the ribbon until her face was swollen with the pressure of panic and stopped blood.
King Nigellous' great red face began to blur and the jaquelle raised her Will against the king.
The king tightened his grip as he felt her wrestle against his Influence. «You still think you can overpower me?»
While his daughter choked for breath, the king listed his head like a serpent.
«The delegation will accept you as a bride despite that disaster out there. I have given you everything — yet you still manage to make me ridiculous.»
His strike sent her sprawling.
Her hands stung against the terracotta tile. The tang of iron spread over her tongue as her lungs spasmed for air.
Her failed favour loosened around her neck and fluttered over her shoulders as her pater's footsteps receded. Her fingers scraped over the grooves of the patterned tiles as she clenched her fists.
The jaquelle glared at the archways leading back to the Great Hall.
This evening was only the beginning. Thirteen more nights — each evening she must perform consecrated dances for the festivities to honour their foreign guests.
She tore the ribbon from her shoulders in a whisper of satin. She glared down at the offensive favour, replaying it over in her head — every step, every look, every breath.
The dance had been perfect. The jaquelle had worn through several pairs of silk slippers in preparation. Her dancers hadn't faltered — the music hadn't squeaked. And yet, the Cluvani had rejected her.
The warrior's expression when she had offered him the ribbon taunted her memory. He'd recoiled when she knelt before him.
The court had swelled with a morbid delight at his snub.
She'd impulsively Willed the warrior to take it and he'd nearly flipped the chaise as he lurched back. His temper scorched her fingers like an open flame and she'd fled.
Or had tried.
Her nails pricked her palms through her gloves.
The other dancers melted from the shadows of the darkened hall and helped her to her feet.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
The Jack of Hearts (House of Cards Book 1)
FantasíaSince the reign of her grandfather, the Aertisians have been at war with the United Clans of the Cluvani. But when her father's prophecy declares that the Jaquelle of Aertisia will bear the heir to the Cluvani throne, her destiny is transformed. Yea...
