The King's Wife |Kylo Ren x Reader|

XXII-Rebuttal

Your fingernail digs into the peeling paint of the mahogany table, scratching up the deep cherry-brown color that burns in your eyes. The table itself is decorated with a frilly runner of ivory and a vase of vibrant roses that sits at its center. Scattered around the perfumed flowers are little trays of cookies, cakes, tarts, and fruits. Porcelain teacups sit politely in their saucers, filled with red and orange herbal teas that do nothing to soothe your nerves.

The company you keep at this hour certainly does little to aid your anxious spirit.

Three frivolous young ladies of the court have joined your tea with Lady Cerelia this afternoon. The sun has permitted shorter sleeves and satins that glisten under its light. They wear gentle colors, an ode to spring, with pale yellows, blues, pinks, and creams. Hair loose or neatly styled at the nape of their necks to frame their opulent jewels that seem to dance in the sunlight.

Soft voices titter and gossip, spewing whatever vapidness had reached their ears that day. You would be lying if you said that you did not enjoy their gossip every so often, but today is hardly the day for it.

Not even the weather can save the steady decline of your mood. Not the warmth of the sun on your cheeks, the gentle breeze that stirs the trees, or the sapphire quality of the sky through which the palace towers pierce. Not the scent of the flowers, the sugary taste of warm treats, or the familiar rattle of teacups in their saucers.

Your mind is anywhere but the table. Anywhere but the teasing lilt of their conversations, the soft laughter they share, or the caring eyes of your only friend at this mind-numbing tea. You pull your hands into your lap to fiddle instead with the golden thread woven into the emerald green fabric of your gown. It is silly to keep your discontent to yourself; they have likely already taken notice of your distance.

Lady Cerelia surely has. She dawns a soft orange gown that seems to brighten her glowing, bronze complexion--the color has appeared more frequently in her wardrobe since her marriage to Lord Dameron--and has her dark hair in an updo from which gentle curls tumble. Her deep brown eyes, glistening with concern, occasionally flicker over to you to gauge your distracted disconnect.

She is one of the few people who know what happened in Felucia. It has been kept under wraps well enough and, by some miracle, has yet to spread to the ears of the court. All anyone knows is that their king has declared war on Lord Hux. There are, of course, a thousand theories on why your husband had suddenly decided to engage in it, but they are all far from the truth.

Word will spread soon--it is inevitable. Within the hour, Kylo will make his way to the council chamber and discuss the logistics of what the war will mean for his people. And you have been confined here.

 As always.

The thought must have forced displeasure to appear on your expression. The soft, warm hand of Lady Cerelia discreetly finds your wrist. You meet her eyes and force a tight-lipped smile, but she knows you better. She subtly tilts her head toward the other ladies, silently urging you to appear interested before the vultures turn on you.

Lady Eryn--twin to Lady Aviva, who sits beside her--takes a sip of her tea, smiling into the brim as her brown eyes glitter with mischief. "I heard Chancellor Alveye's wife fled the moment she heard the news."

You can't help but frown a little at the mention of the traitor who had tried to murder Kylo. He has been of little concern these past few days. Where his body now rots is none of your business.