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I was dressed as well as I could be. Now I just needed to focus on not making a fool out of myself.
Demos and I dismounted as well. Fadon stepped in front of me, his hand held out. My breath caught at the smile on his face, one that transformed him from stern captain to stunning male.
“Come, meet our queen, Queen Alpha Mari Trajan,” he said reverently.
I took his hand, his grasp confident and reassuring, as we turned to face the parted crowd. It was then that I got my first view of the Ongahri queen. Around me I heard rustling, and knew everyone in the courtyard was kneeling, exposing their throats like Fadon and his man Arik had done days ago. But my eyes were on her.
She stood at the open entrance of the manse, golden light behind her. Her regal height, her impeccable bearing, her gown of black that hugged her hour-glass shape, set her apart and stamped her as Queen. As we approached closer, I saw that her eyes were like her brother’s, obsidian. She was much younger than I had pictured her in my mind, appearing no older than twenty-years. But I knew she was far older.
Her lips were painted a blood red, and she smiled, showing perfect white teeth. Raising both hands toward us, she met us the rest of the way.
“Omega. Welcome to Goth Mor Helle and to House Trajan,” she greeted, her voice husky and thick like a warm summer night as she took my hands. Her hands were cool in mine as she dropped into a deep curtsy, her head slightly bowed. She held the pose longer than even a guest of my father’s would, one representing respect. Finally, she straightened, not releasing my hands. Her eyes searched my face, assessing.
Beside me, Fadon cleared his throat. “My queen, we’ve been on the road quite—”
“Of course. You are probably famished. This won’t take long.” She released my right hand, and with my other still in hers, turned me toward the people waiting in the courtyard. She addressed the crowd in a clear, strong voice that seemed to carry high into the sky and beyond. The hairs on the back of my neck raised in response, sensing power.
“Ongahri. We have waited so very long for an omega, and now she is here. May I introduce to you, Princess Sierra Trajan of House Trajan.”
The crowd roared, and I felt the mighty sound in my bones. The roars faded, still echoing all around. My legs started to shake, and the queen turned to me, her eyes wide.
“Oh,” she said in a honied murmur. “How intriguing.”
“Your Majesty?” I asked, puzzled.
Her lips quirked. “Oh, listen to that voice. Like chimes.” Before I could blink, her mouth was inches from my throat. Was she sniffing me?
I heard a deep growl that instantly made me aware of my sex.
“Relax, Fadon. I only wanted to learn her scent.” The young queen pulled back slowly, giving me space once more. Her eyes seemed to dance as she let go of my hand. “So intriguing.” She sniffed the air delicately, her chin lifting. “Oh, Fadon. How did you survive so long?” Her eyes closed, making her look like one of Mother’s priceless collection dolls.
“Enough, Mari. The pretty is over. Where is our brother?” Fadon asked, clearly aggravated.
“He’s meeting us in the parlor,” the queen said, her black eyes glued to mine.
“Fine. We’ll see you there. Sierra, Servant, let’s go inside.” Fadon grabbed my hand and started pulling me inside. I turned back to look at the queen, worried about Fadon’s rudeness.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Your Majesty!” I said quickly.
But Demos, who was behind me, blocked any view of her, so I begrudgingly followed Fadon into the warm manse.
We were in a long corridor that ended at a large open room, where a massive hearth was lit. The walls were a dark brick. A few tapestries hung between glass sconces whose light cast shadows onto the blackened oak rafters above. The floor was covered by several wide rugs in deep purple and white. Cushioned benches and side tables faced the hearth, and outside the center, the room split off in three directions. Fadon headed to the right, where we walked through another corridor which led to a smaller open room. From there, he led us up a staircase and to the next floor.
A wide hallway with red carpet bisecting a marble floor swallowed up the space. Massive doors, at least dozen on either side, all closed, passed us by in a blur as Fadon picked up the pace. I was tired, and my legs felt wooden as I struggled to keep up.
Finally, he chose a door and opened it, stepping aside to let me enter first, followed by Demos.
The room was well lit and quite quaint. Two divans covered in red velvet tempted one to luxuriate in their softness, along with two cushioned chairs, enclosing the space around the hearth.
The scent of cloves with a hint of a pleasant musk I couldn’t identify hung in the air around us. The queen had mentioned her parlor, so I assumed it was her scent I was picking up. I found the smell invigorating and comforting.
I sat down on one of the divans. Demos joined me, while Fadon sat in the chair across from us. The door behind me opened, and I turned to see who it was.
I sat up straighter and adjusted my skirts as the queen flowed into the room, followed by a tall, handsome man with dark brown hair that touched his well-defined shoulders. He looked to be in his late twenties, early thirties. When he sat down across from me, in the chair next to Fadon’s, I saw that his eyes were a beautiful shade of dark amber. His mouth was lush, nose straight, jawline like that of his older brother’s.
Lysander. My betrothed.
His eyes met mine, and I felt heat gathering in my cheeks at the awkwardness of the situation. I hastily looked away and instead glanced at the queen, who sat on the other divan, her legs tucked to the side and underneath her, one arm outstretched on the divan’s back. She reminded me of an elegant cat.
