A Throne of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales 2)

On someone else it would have been a vulgar display of wealth, but on him it looked immaculate. His poise, his air of ruthless confidence, and the way he held his shoulders displayed exactly what it was—a birthright.

The crowned prince of Wyvern kingdom waited to dine with me.

Suddenly I felt horribly, terribly out of place.

Twenty-Two

I paused halfway down the stairs and ran my fingers across my bare chest.

“What is it, milady?” Leala whispered, coming to stand just a little behind me.

“I should’ve picked out a nicer dress. Or…maybe more makeup. I don’t have any jewels or anything. Should I have worn the dagger? Or maybe the sword?”

Except he looked up then, and the bond filled with such warm softness that I started forward without consciously deciding to. I met him at the bottom, placing my palm in his proffered hand.

“Goddess give me strength, Finley,” he said on a release of breath, his golden eyes taking me in. “You are an absolute vision. Ever the princess locked in her tower.” He bent to kiss me delicately on the corner of the lips so as not to upset my lipstick.

“You clean up very well,” I said, tracing the royal livery collar.

“I haven’t done it in sixteen years. It feels…odd. Like I am trying to step into a past life.”

He held out his hand for the key to the tower. Leala supplied it immediately, curtsied, and headed back up the stairs.

“I have pockets,” he said by way of explanation, dropping the key into his pants pocket.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to not have to worry about locking doors?”

“I’m just glad there’s one place in the castle they can’t access through the hidden passageways. There’s no point in locking any other room. You at least have a semblance of safety.”

He walked me down the next flight of stairs to the ground floor. No one loitered in the large foyer or meandered through the halls. It was too early for the parties by an hour or so, but usually there were a few weirdos bustling about as night descended. Not so now. I wondered if he’d cleared the way for me. If so, I hoped it didn’t have anything to do with him not wanting others to see him taking a common girl to a nice dinner.

The hall arched above us, and two staff members dressed in tuxedoes with white bow ties waited beside a grand double door up ahead. A deep purple rug ran underfoot, and gold etching adorned the walls. The setup screamed royal.

They waited until we got closer before reaching for the handles and pulling the doors open almost in sync.

“It’s been a while since I allowed myself to notice the staffing…errors,” he murmured as we entered a grand room with large oil paintings on the walls and a table that could seat thirty or more. Flower bouquets dotted the surface, along with glowing candelabra. Two places were set at one end, one at the head of the table and the other to its right.

“What do you mean?” I asked as he led me to the place settings.

“Servants here used to go through rigorous training. Perfection was expected and demanded. If a servant couldn’t fulfill the requirements, they were let go or moved to a less strenuous position. All of that has changed, obviously. Most of the current servants haven’t had any training for their positions at all.”

“And they also try to fulfill their duties badly so they don’t get noticed by the demons.”

“That as well, yes. When I dress like this, with you like that, using the finer areas of the castle…these things stand out. It’s…humbling. Frustrating.”

It was sadness, though, that radiated through the bond. Probably sorrow for what had been lost. For a glory he clearly thought he’d never regain.

He stopped by the seat at the head of the table. A guy in the same fancy dress as the others strutted forward. His confidence was somewhat undermined by the way his shirt didn’t quite button over his bulging belly. The arms were too short, and white socks shone under the black trouser legs that didn’t reach his ankles.

He pulled out the finely crafted head chair and waited patiently.

So did I.

Nyfain pulled his arm forward, moving me closer to it.

“Oh,” I said in confusion.

He took a step back.

I put my hand to my chest. “Me?”

“Yes, princess,” Nyfain said softly, his eyes deep and open. “You.”

When he said “princess” this time, it didn’t sound condescending. It sounded like a title.

Goosebumps stood out on my arms as I stepped forward, taking the seat and then waiting for Nyfain to sit beside me.

“Shouldn’t royalty or the person with the highest social standing take the head of the table?” I asked. I couldn’t help it.

“Yes. In this case, it is the person who will make the most difference in this kingdom. When I went off in search of your pants, I met a few people traveling to the nearest everlass field. They were in awe of your knowledge and determination to heal. They’ve taken your deal, by the way. The higher classes will work with the poor to see that the sickest members are treated first, regardless of class. The woman that is typically in charge of healing the village met with Mary…”