Dragon's Blood: a Reverse Harem Fantasy Romance (The Dragon's Gift Trilogy Book 2)(15)

Dareena finished her food just as the maid returned with a bucket of steaming hot water and a wash cloth. Shrugging off her robe, Dareena let the maid bathe and dress her in the gown and matching slippers, then style her hair. The woman did an excellent job, her deft fingers weaving it into braids and piling them atop her head in an elaborate crown.

“You look lovely, Miss,” she said when she was done.

“Lady,” Dareena corrected automatically. “Miss” Dareena Sellis had died the day she’d drunk from the dragon goblet, though she hadn’t known it at the time. She was the Dragon’s Gift now, carrying a dragon baby in her womb. She was far more than a mere “Miss.”

“Lady,” the maid repeated with a nod. A faint smile curved her lips, and Dareena wondered if the news about her and Alistair didn’t bother this new maid. Perhaps not all elves were prudes after all. “I am Mari. I’ve been assigned to serve you for the remainder of your stay.”

A knock came at the door before Dareena could respond, and the maid opened it to a guard on the other side. “The king commands your presence in the throne room,” he said stiffly. Alistair stood behind him, flanked by a second guard. He already looked pale again, Dareena noted with some concern. How long would the boost she’d given him last under such duress?

“Of course.” Dareena rose gracefully from her chair. The guard stood aside to let her pass, and she went to Alistair immediately. The moment she slipped her hand in his, she felt the air in the hall shift, and the guards gave them both stern glances. But Alistair’s cold hand began to warm in hers, and she only held it tighter, refusing to let go. The elves could look down on them all they wanted—if skin-to-skin contact helped Alistair fight the effects of the spell, she would cling to him with her dying breath if necessary.

Thankfully, the guards made no attempt to separate them. As they were herded through the halls toward the audience chamber, they got more than a few strange looks from various nobles and residents living in the castle. Dareena ignored them and looked around curiously. The castle was fashioned entirely from white stone, but there were various stained-glass windows set high in the walls that made the stone bloom with wonderful colors and shapes. Tapestries depicting various scenes in history added further color, and statues of important elven figures flanked entrances and stairwells.

The castle steward waited for them outside the throne room, dressed in a deep green and gold tunic—the royal colors, Dareena had gathered. His face was inscrutable as he opened the doors to the throne room, and Dareena’s breath caught as she beheld the splendor within.

Like the rest of the palace, the room was built of stone, but here, the pillars were carved into trees so lifelike Dareena would have thought them real if not for the color. The trunks stretched up and up and up, until the branches curved over the arched ceiling, twigs and leaves tangling on either side as they crossed midway. Between the pillars, steps led to a second landing where members of the court could come and watch the proceedings, and below, on either side of the aisle, were azure pools with shimmering orange fish swimming beneath the clear water. There were a number of elven nobles gathered on the landing, watching with expressions ranging from curiosity to boredom to outright disdain. Amongst them was Lady Valenhall, and flanking her were two men Dareena judged to be her son and husband, though age was hard to tell with elves.

The room quieted as Dareena and Alistair arrived, the silence broken only by their footsteps rasping against the stone floors as they approached the dais. Like the gallery, the throne itself was on the second landing, and behind it, carved into the wall, was a tree even more gigantic and stunning than the pillars. Unlike the stone forest lining the room, this one was in full color. The greens and browns seemed so alive, Dareena wondered if the tree was real.

“My king.” The steward bowed once they’d reached the steps leading to the dais. “Presenting Dareena Sellis, the Dragon’s Gift, and Prince Alistair, of Dragonfell.”

Dareena looked up at the king, and it took great effort to fight against her instinctive need to bow before him. She had never seen a likeness of Andur, High King of the Elves, but he was nearly identical to the picture she’d conjured of him. Long, pale blond hair, a handsome, ageless face with fine-boned features, and eyes of pure silver that gave nothing away. He wore a tunic woven of some otherworldly material that seemed to shift and shimmer before her eyes—impossible to pin down exactly what color it was—and his head was wreathed with a crown of antlers. She met that silver gaze squarely, trying to gauge his measure, and though there was that aura of wisdom and mystery she expected from such a powerful gaze, there was also a brittleness there, as if something had recently broken and was desperately trying to mend.

His son, she thought, feeling unexpected sympathy for him. What must it be like to realize that your favorite child had been going behind your back and consorting with the enemy?

Her eyes flicked to the left, away from Andur. There stood an elven woman with chestnut hair and lovely green eyes, dressed in a pale green gown, every inch embroidered in gold. The shape of her mouth and chin told Dareena the obvious—she was the princess. And to the king’s right, the raven-haired man in shining armor and a green and gold cape much too fine for the average soldier must be Prince Arolas. His cold blue eyes bore into hers, and a smirk curved his lips as he looked her up and down.

“Prince Alistair, Lady Dareena, this is Andur, High King of the Elves, and his children, Arolas, Crown Prince of Elvenhame and General of the Elven Host, and Princess Basilla.”