Lord of the Fading Lands
Page 86
"Excellent. We thank you, Master Fellows." She fixed a coolly polite smile on her face. He recognized her unspoken dismissal and, with a final bow, excused himself.
When he was gone, Vale caught her eye. He'd been gone from her court since that morning in the garden when he'd acted so impudently, and though it galled her to admit it, she'd missed him. Scarcely a year since he'd first joined the court, and already he was indispensable to her. How had that happened? A mysterious, knowing smile lurked at the corners of his well-shaped mouth, and a tingling shot of energy raced up her spine in response. She'd seen that look before. He was hiding something, some naughty trinket or choice bit of gossip, and he was waiting for a moment alone to share it with her.
She shouldn't let him. He'd grown too bold by half.
But she was still angry at the way Dorian had betrayed her this morning. She'd given him her love, given him years of devotion and loyalty and her tireless efforts to make him the most powerful king in the mortal world. And what had he done when asked to choose between her pride and his Fey kin? He'd chosen them. He'd thrown everything she'd ever given him back in her face.
She looked at Vale. This handsome man had made it clear in so many ways that he longed to serve and please her, that he would do anything for her.
A sharp staccato beat broke the air as Annoura clapped her hands sharply. "Out. All of you. Give me a moment." She held Vale's gaze for a steady, expressionless moment. His faint smile deepened—then was wiped away as he turned towards the door and exited with the rest of the courtiers. The door closed behind them.
Silence fell over the room. She drew a deep breath, her br**sts straining against the tight confinement of her corset. Her heart was beating quickly. This was not wise. Dorian was not a jealous or suspicious man—she'd never given him cause to be—but many a courtier with whom she'd battled in the past would leap at the chance to disgrace her.
Nerves shrilling, Annoura rose from her chair. Across the room, the door through which the courtiers had exited beckoned. Already she was having second thoughts. She should leave. Now. Before she encouraged Vale's improprieties any further and gave herself cause for regret. Before she gave her enemies a weapon to use against her.
She started for the door to her bedchamber.
From behind, the sound of tinkling dishes and a low murmur of voices drifted in through the half-closed door leading to the adjoining antechamber. She stopped. Drew another deep breath. Turned.
Vale stood in the doorway, elegant and sensual, thick, smooth waves of dark hair gathered in a queue at his nape, blue-green eyes vivid in his bronzed face. Expertly tailored clothes hugged his body, outlining his muscular limbs, broad shoulders, trim hips.
She yanked her gaze back from where it had wandered and gathered her composure, drawing on every lesson engraved upon her being by the stern taskmaster who'd been Gaspare Fellows's old master. One silvery brow arched. "You wished to see me privately?”
Vale smiled. It was not the smile of a supplicant or a courtier. It was, instead, a man's smile, brimming with dangerous promise, whispering of silken sheets and forbidden desires. "I've brought you a gift, My Queen." He gestured behind him, to a small silver serving cart.
Annoura's tension changed to irritation. "Keflee? Vale, really, my nerves are strung tight. They need no further stimulation." Keflee, the powdered nut of the kefloa tree, was a sensory enhancer. When brewed with cinnabar water, it acted as a mild stimulant to the senses, creating a feeling of invigoration and higher mental acuity.
Vale lifted a purple silk bag from the tray, and handed it to her. "Ah, but My Queen, this is no ordinary keflee. I know you to be a connoisseur, and this is a very rare and potent blend. One I think you will enjoy. Open the bag and just smell the aroma. It's enthralling.”
Intrigued, she loosened the braided ties holding the top closed, parted the opening of the bag, and took an experimental sniff. A rich, dark fragrance filled her nostrils, heady, dizzying. A potent blend indeed. And now she knew the reason for the wicked light in Vale's eyes.
For a rare few, the more potent forms of keflee could cause mild aphrodisiacal effects—and occasionally even more than mild, depending on the concentration of the brew, and the imbiber's level of susceptibility and state of mind. Annoura had never experienced those side effects herself, but Dorian had a particularly interesting response to keflee in its most concentrated form. Ever since discovering that, she'd made a point of stocking new blends, and encouraging him to try them whenever she was feeling romantic.
"I made a special trip to my estate just so I could bring it to you," Vale said, pouring the steaming liquid into two porcelain cups. He added a stream of thick, chilled honeyed cream, stirred, then held one cup out to her. "I thought if my gift pleased you, you might forgive me for my earlier transgression. I cannot bear to be out of your favor, My Queen.”
She gave a brief, disbelieving laugh. "So to apologize for one boldness, you offer an even greater one?”
"Is it boldness to offer my queen a treasure I know she enjoys?”
A quick, sharp yank on the silk cords closed the purple bag tight. She tossed it on her desk and turned away, regretting the irritation and spurt of wickedness that had led her to encourage him. "You presume too much, Vale, and for your information, keflee does not have the effect on me you may think. My .. ardent pursuit of the rarest blends is an interest I indulge for reasons of my own.”
When he was gone, Vale caught her eye. He'd been gone from her court since that morning in the garden when he'd acted so impudently, and though it galled her to admit it, she'd missed him. Scarcely a year since he'd first joined the court, and already he was indispensable to her. How had that happened? A mysterious, knowing smile lurked at the corners of his well-shaped mouth, and a tingling shot of energy raced up her spine in response. She'd seen that look before. He was hiding something, some naughty trinket or choice bit of gossip, and he was waiting for a moment alone to share it with her.
She shouldn't let him. He'd grown too bold by half.
But she was still angry at the way Dorian had betrayed her this morning. She'd given him her love, given him years of devotion and loyalty and her tireless efforts to make him the most powerful king in the mortal world. And what had he done when asked to choose between her pride and his Fey kin? He'd chosen them. He'd thrown everything she'd ever given him back in her face.
She looked at Vale. This handsome man had made it clear in so many ways that he longed to serve and please her, that he would do anything for her.
A sharp staccato beat broke the air as Annoura clapped her hands sharply. "Out. All of you. Give me a moment." She held Vale's gaze for a steady, expressionless moment. His faint smile deepened—then was wiped away as he turned towards the door and exited with the rest of the courtiers. The door closed behind them.
Silence fell over the room. She drew a deep breath, her br**sts straining against the tight confinement of her corset. Her heart was beating quickly. This was not wise. Dorian was not a jealous or suspicious man—she'd never given him cause to be—but many a courtier with whom she'd battled in the past would leap at the chance to disgrace her.
Nerves shrilling, Annoura rose from her chair. Across the room, the door through which the courtiers had exited beckoned. Already she was having second thoughts. She should leave. Now. Before she encouraged Vale's improprieties any further and gave herself cause for regret. Before she gave her enemies a weapon to use against her.
She started for the door to her bedchamber.
From behind, the sound of tinkling dishes and a low murmur of voices drifted in through the half-closed door leading to the adjoining antechamber. She stopped. Drew another deep breath. Turned.
Vale stood in the doorway, elegant and sensual, thick, smooth waves of dark hair gathered in a queue at his nape, blue-green eyes vivid in his bronzed face. Expertly tailored clothes hugged his body, outlining his muscular limbs, broad shoulders, trim hips.
She yanked her gaze back from where it had wandered and gathered her composure, drawing on every lesson engraved upon her being by the stern taskmaster who'd been Gaspare Fellows's old master. One silvery brow arched. "You wished to see me privately?”
Vale smiled. It was not the smile of a supplicant or a courtier. It was, instead, a man's smile, brimming with dangerous promise, whispering of silken sheets and forbidden desires. "I've brought you a gift, My Queen." He gestured behind him, to a small silver serving cart.
Annoura's tension changed to irritation. "Keflee? Vale, really, my nerves are strung tight. They need no further stimulation." Keflee, the powdered nut of the kefloa tree, was a sensory enhancer. When brewed with cinnabar water, it acted as a mild stimulant to the senses, creating a feeling of invigoration and higher mental acuity.
Vale lifted a purple silk bag from the tray, and handed it to her. "Ah, but My Queen, this is no ordinary keflee. I know you to be a connoisseur, and this is a very rare and potent blend. One I think you will enjoy. Open the bag and just smell the aroma. It's enthralling.”
Intrigued, she loosened the braided ties holding the top closed, parted the opening of the bag, and took an experimental sniff. A rich, dark fragrance filled her nostrils, heady, dizzying. A potent blend indeed. And now she knew the reason for the wicked light in Vale's eyes.
For a rare few, the more potent forms of keflee could cause mild aphrodisiacal effects—and occasionally even more than mild, depending on the concentration of the brew, and the imbiber's level of susceptibility and state of mind. Annoura had never experienced those side effects herself, but Dorian had a particularly interesting response to keflee in its most concentrated form. Ever since discovering that, she'd made a point of stocking new blends, and encouraging him to try them whenever she was feeling romantic.
"I made a special trip to my estate just so I could bring it to you," Vale said, pouring the steaming liquid into two porcelain cups. He added a stream of thick, chilled honeyed cream, stirred, then held one cup out to her. "I thought if my gift pleased you, you might forgive me for my earlier transgression. I cannot bear to be out of your favor, My Queen.”
She gave a brief, disbelieving laugh. "So to apologize for one boldness, you offer an even greater one?”
"Is it boldness to offer my queen a treasure I know she enjoys?”
A quick, sharp yank on the silk cords closed the purple bag tight. She tossed it on her desk and turned away, regretting the irritation and spurt of wickedness that had led her to encourage him. "You presume too much, Vale, and for your information, keflee does not have the effect on me you may think. My .. ardent pursuit of the rarest blends is an interest I indulge for reasons of my own.”
