Sure, he had stormed out of her chambers the night before in a temper, but at least he hadn't tried to force himself upon her or beat her, yet.
She glanced around at the three maids but not one of them appeared willing to meet her gaze.
Then, the one who appeared to be the oldest looked up from where she had been scrubbing dirt from beneath Iris's nails and shrugged, "The king is a king. He acts as all kings do."
That’s helpful, Iris thought sarcastically but she could see from the looks on the maids’ faces that it was better not to press for more information. I suppose I will find out soon enough.
After all, it didn't really matter all that much. None of it would matter, because as soon as she saw her chance, she would make her escape. It was a promise she had made herself the day her father had traded her to Perivale. She had promised herself that she would be nobody's slave.
One way or another, I will be free.
What she didn't know was that fate had different plans for her.
Chapter 4 - Ember
The palace dining room was alive with its usual activity. Several nobles and their families sat at the tables closest to the dais while lesser palace visitors sat closer to the entrance. The doors were flung open to allow entry to anyone who wished to enter.
Usually, Ember would hold tradition by inviting a couple of members to dine at his own table on the dais, but today he was in no mood for idle chitchat, palace politics or complaining. He would much rather have bypassed the dining room altogether, but Filton had insisted that Iris would be joining them, and so he sat, slouched in the largest chair in the room, with a face like thunder.
He picked at the watermelon salad that had been placed before him, barely tasting the sweet flesh every so often. His mind was much too preoccupied with other things.
What is taking her so long? He grumbled to himself, sure that Iris should have joined them by now.
As if his thought had summoned her, the sound of footsteps sounded through the open doorway. She did not come alone. Guards walked both ahead and behind her while servants followed closely, their heads bowed.
Even with all those people surrounding her, Ember could not take his eyes off her. She was even more radiant than when he had last seen her. Glossy auburn hair had been twisted into braids decorated with purple gemstones and pinned atop her head before cascading down over one shoulder. The sheer slip of material she had worn for a dress upon their first meet had been removed and she now wore a long, flowing gown of pale lilac that hugged every curve of her slender yet curvaceous figure.
For just a moment, Ember was made breathless by the sight of her. She wasn't only radiant, she was regal, holding her head high as she practically hovered gracefully down the center aisle between the tables. Yet Ember was not so blinded by her beauty that he could not see the fearful look in her eyes. Her expression was unreadable, her head high and shoulders back, but her eyes gave away everything.
Save for that look in her eyes, there was only one thing Ember would change about her appearance. He would have preferred her hair released so he could run his fingers through it and watch her eyes close and her lips part with a moan of pleasure.
Quickly, he shook his head to rid his mind of such thoughts, knowing all too well where they could lead.
"My lord," Filton said, clearing his throat behind him, and Ember realized that Iris had made it to the steps of the dais. She had stopped to curtsey and was waiting for his permission to rise.
"Please, get on your feet!" Ember boomed, perhaps a little too loudly. He quickly stood and rounded the table to join her at the bottom of the steps. "Allow me to escort you to your seat."
He held out his hand to her. For just a moment she paused, looking unsure whether she should take the hand of the king in front of a room full of people, who had all grown silent and now sat watching her, wide-eyed.
Ember gazed at her, hoping she would see encouragement in his dark eyes.
Finally, she placed her pale, delicate fingers in his and allowed him to lead her up the dais steps and back around the table. Filton had already pulled out the seat beside the Kikng's, and Ember guided her to it, gesturing for her to sit.
He waited until she had made herself comfortable before dropping down into his own seat beside her. She sat with her head down, gazing at the plate of food that Filton placed in front of her. Sensing how uncomfortable she was, Ember turned to the rest of the room and ordered, "Eat!"
As if his voice had reminded them that staring was rude, everyone in the room quickly turned back to what they had been doing before Iris's arrival, some of them even clearing their throats. A wave of jealousy crept over Ember when he noticed that several of the men below were having a hard time drawing their eyes away from Iris. He wondered for a moment which one of them might have ended up with her if he had not stepped in the night before. He wasn't sure he trusted a single one of them to treat her as a woman rather than a belonging.
Gritting his teeth, he tried to force himself not to think about it, and instead turned to give his full attention to the beautiful woman beside him.
"Is the food to your taste?" Ember asked after she had placed a piece of watermelon in her mouth. She simply nodded. He continued to question her with barely an answer in return until he could handle it no more.
"Are you mute?" He demanded, barely stopping himself from slamming his fist down on the dining table.
At first, he thought she might refuse to answer him again. Then she lifted her head and turned her face up to him. The world of pain he saw in her eyes made his heart crack instantly. Instinctively, he reached out with a hand to lay it on top of hers on the table. The desire to comfort her was overwhelming, and he was relieved when she did not automatically pull away.
Their gazes met then, and Ember was sure he saw the pain recede from her eyes. Then, suddenly a spark ignited between their hands and Iris quickly slipped her fingers from beneath his. Disappointment clutched his heart in a vice-like grip.
"I am not mute," she responded coolly before glancing away, "I merely prefer silence to nonsense."