Series: Charmaine Pauls
Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
On the other end of the table sits a beautiful woman with hair so black it shines blue in the light of the myriad stones glowing on the tables. Her eyes are a light shade of gray, a striking contrast to her dark hair. Unlike the rest of the party at the table, who all sport deep golden skin tones, hers is pale. She wears a white dress with lace cuffs. The crown on her head is almost an exact replica of the man’s, except that hers is more delicate.
Gaia, Kian, and Vitai are seated between them. They’re twisted in their seats, watching our slow march across the hall. Two men, one blond and the other with mousy brown hair, sit opposite them.
If Vitai is a kind of a healer, maybe he knows what was done to my body that makes me no longer feel like I’m dying. I’ll ask him as soon as I get a chance.
A murmur breaks out in the crowd. Whispers run like a spark catching fire through the people. Their words don’t reach my ears, but shock and anguish are clear in the low hiss of voices.
Ignoring the attention, Aruan brings me to the platform and guides me up the steps. We round the table under the curious stares of the spectators and stop behind two empty chairs facing the masses. Like the chairs in his room, these are circular stones too, resembling hollow nests padded with soft, silver cushions.
“Praise to the King of Lona,” Aruan says. “Peace to the Queen of the Nation.”
The people at the long tables stomp their feet once, making me jump.
“Loyal royals and citizens of Lona,” Aruan continues, “I present to you…” Turning to me, he says with fierceness and pride burning in his eyes, “My mate.”
A roar rises from below.
“May her name be uttered with reverence and devotion for all eternity.” He wraps his big hand around mine where he clasps it on his arm and lifts it into the air. “Laliss!”
“Laliss!” the crowd shouts as one.
I blame my brain’s inability to form words on the stupefying experience of being dumped into a hall full of people who are staring at me as if I’m the most frightful creature they’ve seen. Yet even as their fearful faces are turned toward me, they chant that unfamiliar name like a horde of groupies at a rock concert.
I’m the one who should be petrified.
Hell, I am petrified.
It’s a little unnerving to be the source of so much terror. Also, I’d be lying if I say it doesn’t stroke my ego a little. It’s like turning up at a Halloween party in the best costume. All my life, I’ve mostly been pitied. Being feared isn’t my number one choice of an elicited reaction, but I’ll take scary Elsie over pitied Elsie any day, even though they’re not calling me Elsie.
When we finally sit down, I lean toward Aruan and whisper, “Why do they look so frightened? Have they never seen someone from Earth?”
He looks at me as if he’d like to eat me. Alive. “They fear you because you’re my mate, but for the same reason, they’ll love you.”
Here we go again. “Aruan, what must I do to convince—”
Abruptly, he pulls me to my feet again.
A line of servers enters with steaming platters that they place on the tables. Some carry big terracotta jugs and goblets. Others present trays of strangely shaped, brightly colored fruit.
Dragging me with him, Aruan makes his way to the head of the table.
“Father,” he says with a bow of his head. “It’s my honor to present Laliss, my mate.”
“Elsie,” I say. “And I’m not his mate.”
Both ignore my protest. I size up the man, who, in turn, is studying me from his thronelike chair. If he’s a king, that makes Aruan a prince.
Holy macaroni.
I’ve always wanted to meet a royal family, but I was thinking more along the lines of scones and tea at Windsor Castle or champagne and oysters on a yacht in Monaco. Something straight from a medieval fairy tale in a different world has never entered my mind.
The king studies me with the same keen interest as before. He hardly makes a secret of his quiet disdain.
“Welcome to Lona, Elsie,” he says with a slight narrowing of his gaze. “I hope that everything is to your liking.”
Before I can answer, Aruan pulls me to the other end of the table. When he stops in front of the queen, a palpable tension falls over the royal family.
The queen rises from her chair in a graceful movement. Her face is unlined, her skin as smooth as porcelain. She doesn’t look a day older than Gaia. Like Aruan, there’s a certain quality about her that demands attention. Everyone’s focus is fixed on her. It’s almost as if the guests are holding their breath while waiting for her next move.