Radiance (Wraith Kings Book 1)(5)
The prince obviously knew he held the upper hand. “No, Your Majesty; it cannot. I ask only a little of her ladyship’s time.”
“You will be late for your own wedding,” Fantine cautioned.
“I assure you, we will not.” Brishen remained exquisitely polite and steadfastly determined.
The queen’s eyes narrowed. She shot a warning look at Ildiko who had no trouble interpreting its message. Watch your tongue. Ildiko nodded. Fantine motioned to the maids who lined up behind her like infantry. “You have a quarter hour. No more.”
She swept out of the room on a tide of dignified annoyance. The maid last in line turned, gave Ildiko a pitying glance, and closed the door behind her.
As soon as they were gone, Ildiko broke into a smile. “It’s you.” She didn’t bother hiding the relief in her voice.
The prince closed the distance between them and pulled back his hood, once more revealing lamplight yellow eyes set deep in their sockets, sharp-boned features cast in shades of slate, and a toothy smile that made her lock her knees against the urge to leap away from him. He reached for her hand. Ildiko didn’t hesitate and placed her palm in his, still startled by the unexpected warmth of his skin. If she closed her eyes, she could easily imagine his touch as that of a Gauri suitor’s. He brushed his lips lightly across her knuckles a second time and released her.
“Are you disappointed?” That lambent gaze gave nothing away other than a hard squint as a shaft of sunlight speared a window and glanced along his profile.
Ildiko led him to a dimmer part of the chamber where candles provided a gentler light. “Relieved, not disappointed.” She gestured to a nearby table holding glasses and a decanter of wine. “Can I offer you a drink?”
Brishen shook his head, the tiny braids woven into his long black hair swinging with the movement. He shrugged his cloak off his shoulders so that it draped down his back. The motion revealed ceremonial armor of blued plate over layers of rust and brown silk. A sheathed sword hung at his hip. Like those of his kin who guested in the castle, he was tall and lithe, every movement an exercise in grace and economy.
Ildiko tilted her head to one side. “You knew I was your intended before you came here, didn’t you? How?”
His eyebrows arched. “You gave me your name when I asked. Remember?”
“There are several Ildikos living here. It’s a common enough name. I could have easily been a servant.”
Brishen chuckled and pointed at her. “In that fine gown? Hardly.” He flashed his fanged smile. Ildiko didn’t lock her knees this time. “I just knew. Call it instinct.” He snapped his fingers with a click of nails. “Or Kai magic. We’re all born with a touch of it, you know.”
She shook her head, her own lightheartedness giving way to worry. “No, I didn’t know. I know very little about those who will become my people once we’re married.”
He stared at her for a silent moment. Owl’s eyes, she thought. He and his folk had the eyes of nocturnal hunters, but without pupils, just the glowing luminosity that mesmerized her like a mouse.
“I will teach you,” he said.
She blinked, startled out of her stupor by his reply and completely forgetting the thread of conversation. “Teach me what?”
He had thin lips with a natural downturn emphasized by diagonal grooves on either side of his mouth. It gave him a grim look, except when he smiled, which he did now. “About the Kai. If you wish to learn, I will teach you. Far better than any wrong-headed Gauri book written about us.”
A wash of relief poured through her, along with a kindling of hope. Her bridegroom wasn’t Gauri; he wasn’t even human. He was, however, congenial and gracious. She had proclaimed his appearance ghastly and his honesty handsome. Ildiko still stood by both opinions. She could have done infinitely worse. More than a few Gauri women had the misfortune to marry human men with handsome faces and ghastly souls.
“That’s generous of you. I intend to hold you to your offer,” she said. Her curiosity about his visit remained. “I’ve led you astray from your purpose. What did you wish to speak with me about?”
Brishen clasped his hands behind his back, and Ildiko had the distinct impression he braced himself to approach an uncomfortable subject. “My question is a delicate one, and I mean no insult by its bluntness. Have you thought of the consummation?”
Ildiko’s stomach undulated against her ribs. She fought down a mortified blush and sought to disguise it by a disdainful rolling of her eyes. Brishen took a quick step back. “Everyone has been thinking of the consummation,” she said. “I can hardly escape all the well-meaning advice, sympathetic pats on the arm, and suggestions for various tricks to employ for how to lie back and think of duty to king and country.” She gave him a wry smile. “The most popular advice is to make sure the room is so dark I won’t be able to see my hand—or yours for that matter—in front of my face.”
Brishen’s shout of laughter echoed throughout the room before he clamped down on his mirth and settled for a wide grin and luminous eyes that glistened. “I’ve been told something similar, only we should consummate at noon, when I’ll be virtually blind.”
Ildiko’s muffled her own laughter behind her hand. “May the winged god Bursin save us from so much helpful guidance.”