Torrent of Tears (Scourge Survivor Series Book 3)(19)
I swallowed the chocolate ambrosia in my mouth and licked my lips. “Sure. Happens all the time. No biggie.”
“No biggie?” Terran hissed, his arms now animated and flailing in the air between us. “I thought I’d failed you on my first day as your personal guard. I thought you were poisoned . . . or dying. I didn’t know whether to call the palace medics or the guards or—”
I set the cake on the sofa table and gave Terran a hug. “Breathe, my man. I’ve heard it’s freaky to watch, but really, I’m fine. You didn’t sound the alarm, did you?”
He shook his head.
“Good. I’d like to keep my business to myself if you don’t mind. Besides, Doc Rowan was house-calling it anyway. What’s one more Princess train wreck.”
Rowan retrieved the plate and placed the cake back into my hand. “I’d hardly call you a train wreck, Princess. And if chocolate helps with the aftermath of your seizures, eat more. Doctor’s orders.”
I took another mountain of a bite and considered setting Rowan straight. Should I tell him it was a vision and not a form of some kind of epileptic shake-rattle-and-roll? Did I really need him to know about my inner freak? No. I’d tell Terran later when we were alone. Maybe the two of us could figure out what I’d seen after—
“What time is it?” I shoved my plate at Terran and checked the digital panel on the wall beside my bed. “Shit. I’m late to meet the Queen.”
I tore toward the dressing room then remembered my bag. Racing back, I grabbed my bra from the bottom and sent Rowan a warning glare as he started to snicker. “Not one word, Doc. I can cut a man’s balls off eight different ways and I’m not above doing it.”
The bastard just laughed harder.
CHAPTER EIGHT
My bare feet squeaked on the polished marble as I skidded to a halt outside the Queen’s receiving room. Damn. I was really late. “Well, my first meeting with my biological egg donor is off to a roaring start.”
“Don’t panic,” Terran whispered, passing me my shoes and offering a hand to steady me as I slipped them on. “Just remember what I said. Try to conform to their ideals. Or at least appear to. Nobles are a backstabbing, dangerous group.”
The Strati guards standing sentinel on either side of the massive doors pretended not to notice my hiked-up skirt while I slipped into the shoes Stitch had sold . . . well, given me yesterday. When I was buckled and smoothed and had caught my breath, Terran gave me a hand signal I equated to thumbs up and I nodded. Each guard took hold of a long curlicue door handle that resembled an ocean wave and, before I could change my mind, I was gliding across the gleaming, bronze floor toward a couple dozen dapper citizens.
The room wasn’t so different from the main receiving room at Haven castle. The long rectangular space was bordered by an arching colonnade on both sides which drew the attention of visitors up a grand four-step staircase to the throne. The opulence of it all reminded me of the ballroom I recently converted for my Bacchanalia.
I pushed away thoughts of what was behind me and raised my chin. I was late. I needed to be present now in mind as well as body. Maybe ‘better late than never’ translated into this world and I would be forgiven. I met the cold emerald green stare of the Queen and flinched.
Then again, maybe not.
A classic beauty, Hollywood-leading-lady gorgeous, from the elegance of her high cheekbones to her flawless olive skin to her sleek, feminine lines. She stood as I approached, her glossy raven hair falling dagger straight to her hips. Every male in the room stood a little straighter. Descending the stairs, her scarlet silk gown flowed and shimmered in the light of the crystal chandeliers.
“Good of you to join us.” The ‘finally’ was silent, but understood. Gods, her voice was amazing and the instant after she spoke, every trace of hostility vanished.
I bowed and lowered my head. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I meant no disrespect to you or your court.” I scanned the faces of the close to thirty courtiers dressed to the nines, all of them scowling down at me. All, that is, except one smart-assed onlooker with loose brown curls who scooted into the back of the pack.
What is he doing here?
“Don’t mention it.” The Queen cooed. “I was told you fell momentarily ill?”
Without her smile and the hint of gentleness in her voice her words could have seemed harsh. Instead, what she said almost came off as concern.
“Momentarily,” I said, shooting Rowan the sweetest, dirty look I could manage. He stayed stoically straight faced, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. Bastard. “I’m better now and I apologize for keeping everyone waiting.”
The Queen nodded and grasped my wrist, her touch cool and firm. Without a word, she led me past the crowd of royal admirers and through another set of double doors, to a dining room. Crystal glittered, reflecting the day’s light beaming through stained glass windows. The table was set with sparkling silver cutlery, bronze chargers and gold vases overflowing with enough flowers to choke a horse.
Flowing straight toward a massive gilded chair at the head of the table she released her grip. Nettles pinged and tingled into my hand as the blood began to circulate again.
“An introduction before your homecoming luncheon begins.” The Queen scanned the crowd and caught the gaze of one of the men in the shadows and half-hidden behind other members of the court.