His Hidden Desire (18+)

Chapter 20

The next morning, Danaë followed Cenric down to the great hall for breakfast, sore still from the night's exertions. A distinct chill filled the air, a harbinger of the coming winter.

Once seated, a maid brought them soft boiled eggs, buttery, flaky pastries, and links of sizzling hot sausage. As Danaë went to crack open the first shell, a childish squeal sounded from across the massive chamber.

She looked up to see Hanne and Katja, giggling wildly as they raced across the room, hands filled with messy, iced sticky buns. Behind them, the nursemaid Danaë had encountered earlier chased them, stopping dead as she realized exactly who was watching this display.

Dipping a quick curtsy, she mumbled a mortified apology before rushing after the girls with slightly more decorum.

Hiding her mirth behind her napkin, Danaë fought back laughter.

The princesses' course curved, bringing them up toward the high table, heading for the rear entrance.

Hanne, sighting her, stopped, waving with a fistful of messy treats.

Smiling, Danaë surreptitiously waved back.

It wasn't until the chase resumed, with the girls disappearing into the hall, followed by their keeper, that Danaë turned back, finding their father's eyes on her.

Ice crystallized along her veins, and she swallowed before nodding his way.

Turning back to her food, she closed her eyes, a silent prayer running through her mind-

-don't see me. Don't notice me. Let me be just a faceless nobody...

The rest of the meal passed in a blur, food eaten untasted, conversations heard but not understood.

As the servants cleared away the dirty plates, Cenric turned to Danaë, "So, how will you occupy yourself today, my Lady?"

A sip of watered-down wine slid down her throat. "I suppose that depends on what you have planned for the day, my Lord."

A dark humor entered his eyes, and he answered, "Nikolaj has arranged a challenge of sorts - his guards pitted against mine in a series of exhibition matches."

"Sounds diverting."

"I'm curious to see the results - Godric is the best swordsman in the corps, and I want to learn how he stacks up against Nikolaj's best."

I hope he gets his throat slit.

Setting her goblet on the tablecloth, Danaë brushed aside the violent thought, "In that case, I do hope you enjoy that. I will likely spend the morning in the library."

"Well," reaching beneath the table, he squeezed her hand, "Don't miss me too much."

With a shy smile, she replied, "I'm sure you'll find some way to make it up to me."

His wicked grin was answer enough.

An hour later, Danaë sat at a worktable, carefully turning the pages of a delicate tome written in an older dialect and painstakingly hand illustrated.

Even a cursory perusal revealed several similarities to the glass mosaics and tapestries she'd been seeing here and at Cenric's castle.

Stopping at one, she scanned over the accompanying text, catching seeming mentions to a legendary hero and a trial by combat.

Danaë had heard of the practice - it had been outlawed with the establishment of imperial courts and judges.

I wonder if they'll return to it, now that the Empire has fallen...