Unable to remember the last time he had felt such joy in his heart, Ember reveled in the merriment that filled the grand dining hall. It had been two days since he had all but proposed to Iris in the gardens. The grand feast laid out before them now was in honor of that proposal, and Ember was more than a little shocked by the number of people who had turned up to wish them well.
He had half expected a small affair, with many of their guests too far away to arrive in time for their wedding in a few days’ time, but it appeared that almost every nobleman and his wife had arrived to raise a toast.
Glancing to his left, he often found himself caught by Iris's beauty. Though she seemed much too interested in all that was going on before her—the jesters and performers who had been hired to entertain their guests—he found she was as attractive as ever, if not more so. Most of the tension appeared to be gone from her shoulders and face. The dark bruises and scrapes that had covered her from head to toe were beginning to fade, and he even caught her smiling several times when she thought he wasn't watching.
Gently, he laid a hand upon her shoulder and leaned over to whisper in her ear, "Are you happy, my dear?"
Iris, startled and turned to look at him with shock in her eyes. It was clear from the look on her face that nobody had ever bothered to ask after her own happiness. The realization stabbed at Ember's heart and he vowed, not for the first time, to do better than the previous men in her life.
"I... yes, Your Grace," she responded, her cheeks growing red as if she was unsure of how to answer.
I hope she isn't just saying what she thinks I want to hear, he thought grimly, searching her face for any sign that she might be doing just that. Although he couldn't be entirely sure, he couldn't see any sign.
"Good," he smiled back at her. He was unable to take his eyes off her, until he sensed Filton creeping up behind him. "What is it?" He demanded, only glancing away from Iris for a moment to glower at the servant.
"I do believe it might be a good idea to give your toast, your grace," Filton suggested, his voice squeaking with nerves, "before your audience has a little too much to drink."
Ember didn't need to look to know his advisor was right. The noise in the room had been growing steadily louder and more raucous. With a nod of acknowledgement, Ember reached for his golden goblet and began to raise it. As if the orchestra had seen, their music instantly cut off and Ember began to raise to his feet, clearing his throat. He felt Iris turning in her seat to gaze up at him, and the strength of having her at his side flowed through him.
The room fell eerily silent as everyone else turned to wait for him to speak, but he never got the chance. The double doors at the far end of the hall screeched open and Ember saw Iris's head whip around out of the corner of his eye.
She is still skittish, he thought, frustrated. Then he heard her gasp in horror and his gaze snapped to her before following her gaze to the doors.
When he saw the man the guards had allowed to enter, Ember instantly scolded himself for not having thought to ban him from the palace. He had been so focused on Iris that he had thought of nothing else.
"No! No!" Iris whispered, under her breath at first, but she became more irate in moments, and following her gaze again, Ember saw why.
Walking behind Perivale, timid and pale cheeked, was a young girl. Iris couldn’t have been more than two years older than her. She followed Perivale obediently, as if there were a piece of string attaching the two. Ember's stomach clenched and anger began to burn deep inside him.
"Filton, have our newest arrivals escorted to the high table," the king hissed under his breath without taking his eyes off the man and the woman walking towards them. He could only hope the poor girl was not another traded bride.
"Ember, please, don't allow that man anywhere near me," Iris pleaded. Ember's stomach twisted once more. He hated to cause her pain, but if there was one lesson his father had taught him that he lived by, it was to keep his enemies close.
Leaning over, Ember pressed his lips to her forehead for the entire room to see before he whispered into her ear, "Don't worry, my love. He will not harm you. I know what I’m doing. Do you trust me?"
Iris's face turned slowly to face him, and she seemed to gulp before slowly beginning to nod. He reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before turning back to the room to offer up his speech.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Filton instruct the guards, pointing in Perivale and the young girl's direction.
"I wish to thank you all for coming tonight to share in our happiness!" he announced, lifting his goblet high. All the nobles, ladies, knights, businessmen and women before him lifted their own goblets as he spoke. "I also would like to thank my gorgeous bride, Lady Iris, for being here tonight and making all of this possible!"
Turning to look at her, sensing Perivale and his lady coming closer, he added, "To Lady Iris!"
"To Lady Iris!" The cry erupted throughout the room and everyone else appeared unaware of what was happening at the high table. Ember sat down just as Perivale and his woman were brought before him. They stood in front of the table, on the top step of the dais, and Perivale at least had the decency to look fearful. All the color had drained from his face and he appeared to be trembling, sweating profusely.
"It is good to see you, Perivale," Ember forced himself to say the words, "I feel I must thank you for bringing Lady Iris's existence to my attention, though I cannot help but wonder at the identity of this beautiful creature at your side."
He saw Perivale visibly gulp and knew that he had the man right where he wanted him.
"You are most welcome, Your Grace," he bowed low as he spoke, not daring to meet his liege lord's eye, "It was my greatest honor."
He paused and glanced at Iris.
"Do not look at her. Look only at me." Ember said, a sharp warning to his tone. Perivale gulped audibly. The noise in the room was still minimal and Ember thought that if he listened hard enough, he might hear the man's heart beating ten to the dozen.
"May I introduce you to my bride, Melia," Perivale announced, and Ember struggled to hold back his fury.
He could not even begin to understand how such a horrid man had been lucky enough to have not one but two such lovely brides. Though she was no Iris, Melia was quite comely, with glossy blonde hair and a small, sweet face that was turned innocently toward the ground. Ember was almost certain that she was not trembling for the same reason as Perivale. She was trembling at her mere proximity to the vile lord.