Lady in the Iron Mask

Chapter 12

"He deigned to descend to the miseries of men."
-The Prison, Alfred de Vigny

"Silence!" The man sat on the podium announced, and Eve looked around in shock, only to see that he was on her right hand side, on a pedestal for the world to worship.

A polished golden chaise adorned with red velvet was occupied by a man who appeared emotionally drained, and cold. On his dark head of hair nestled an equally melodramatic, bejewelled crown which shone and sparked at every angle his head moved. His eyes were a dark, deep brown, almost like coal, which suited his angular features. And he wore a draped red cloak, which lazily covered the rest of his expensive outfit.

His eyes swiveled down to fix first on Eve, and then onto Kieran as he leant forward in his chair, boring into him. In response, Kieran got onto one knee.

"I apologise sincerely for her lateness, Your Majesty." He sounded different, detached almost.

Eve could not see his face, as he had his back to her, but she could imagine it was as blank as a slate. It was interesting to know how much he intimidated even his vassals.

"Rise. I have no business with you today. Get out of my sight and do your duty." He dismissed Kieran as one would with a dog; a wave of his arm, and Kieran retreated, leaving Eve alone in the pack of wolves.

Once he'd left, the King reclined once more, all signs of tension gone. The perfect illusion to get them all to open up, after all.

"So. Who do we have here? I would like you to introduce yourselves formally to me. Beginning with you," he beckoned to Eve like she was a stray. "Come here."

Eve flushed a little as the other women next to her turned their eyes to her, and she began her short travel up the carpet to around where Kieran had knelt before. Then, she copied his position, kneeling down on the carpet and addressing him with respect.

"My King, I am Eve."

He chuckled, and she raised her head to meet his humored gaze. Behind her, she could hear similar noises erupting from the small group of Eves.

"Is something funny, my Lord?" She asked, completely confused; she thought she had done everything as required.

Instead of answering her question, he asked his own.

"So, you're the one from the lower classes, are you?" He casually surveyed her figure, her outfit. "My servant has done a good job of hiding your peasant background."

Eve could hear Evelynn haughtily giggling behind her fan, and a vein in her forehead almost popped. But then she remembered that she, unlike the other women competing to be chosen as Eve, did not care for the attention of the King. In fact, despite her visual show of loyalty, she was already tired of being presented like a replaceable object. So, in the face of his insults, Eve smiled at him.

"My King, you must be mistaken," she told him, "Thinking that my background will play any part in the upcoming events."

His moustache twitched in interest.

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Because this whole competition is something a peasant village would hold, just for fun. Thank you for your time."

She then rose, bowed slowly and walked back over to the other women leisurely, catching the King's expression of surprise out of the corner of her eye. It wasn't like she cared particularly for his reaction, but it was interesting to know that he did not abhor her background. The woman next to her, however, immediately began to move away from her, giving her suspicious looks. She rolled her eyes and stood as each of the women introduced themselves to the King. All of them really desired his favor, and were not shy to show it.