Chapter Fifteen

Loud noises were coming from the hall pulling her from the sweetness of her dreamscape. Her body tingling. She wasn’t ready to wake. For a moment she rolled over, pressing her face into a pillow that still smelled of campfire and mint. They were officially her new favorite fragrance. She giggled at her own silliness.

“I demand it!” someone screamed from outside her chamber.

Volencia shot up, staring at the door. There was more talking, but whoever was responding to the shouter, was being quiet, and she couldn’t hear them. She moved across the room silently.

“You can demand anything you want until your face turns purple, but I’m not letting you in this room.” She heard Damion’s voice, soft and steady, on the other side of the door.

“What are you trying to hide from us, tell us what happened after the two of you left.”

“I will not. You will wait until the Princess is ready to meet with you. I will not wake her at your request.”

“You must. The King demands it.” There was some shuffling, “You pushed me, that can be seen as a threat.”

“So can trying to force yourself into the Princess’s bedchamber while she’s asleep.” Damion growled. “And if the King wants something, he has a voice to request it.”

Volencia clicked the lock on the handle of the door nob. It was cold in her hand as she turned it open, peeking out. “It’s about time you decided to join the waking world.” Lock sniffed down his nose at her. Some of tension left her father’s face, though there was barely any noticeable change.

“Hm, well, if I recall, I haven’t slept in days,” she muttered, “for obvious reasons. This is the first real rest I have had in a long time. What is so important, that you have to come harass us?” Damion stepped to the side, allowing her out of the room, and closed the door behind her. Gregron and Damion stood almost shoulder to shoulder. She’d never met anyone who even came close to his size, so seeing Damion standing beside him, a hair taller, was strange.

“We are here to discuss options with your father about your newest betrothal. We have come up with something we believe will make him very happy.”

“I already told them I felt it would be best for them to come back when you are rested and have had a moment to speak with your father about everything that happened yesterday.” Damion nodded at them both. When Claven stepped forward, Damion pulled his sword placing the blade against Claven’s chest. “Take another step—”

“Damion, please.” Volencia reached out. Touching his hand and forcing the sword away. “But you get within arms reach of me, either of you, and I will deem it a threat. I will let him kill you.”

“Regardless of anything else, it is customary to allow your guests to stay with you while we work out the newest agreements for a betrothal. Since your last fiancé met such an untimely death. We wouldn’t want to do any irreparable damage to the already stringent alliance with Belodia.” Damion snorted as Claven gave a wide, arching bow. Volencia was sure it was meant to mock her.

Every eye turned on Damion, except hers, which remained on Lock and Claven. She had absolutely no intention of letting them out of her sight. “Fine. I will speak with you about this… impending betrothal. But what I say goes, and in the end—” Volencia turned on her heals, starting down the hall.

“You know your father will speak for you.” Lock laughed. Damion clearly meant to stay behind them, which made her more comfortable since it was appropriate for her to lead her guests.

“No, he will not.” She turned on her heals, stomping back toward them. All their eyes went wide. Except Damion who gave her a small, reassuring smile. “Not unless you release him from his bindings and allow him to speak freely of his own accord without your puppet strings forcing whatever nonsense you want on him. If you’d rather I chose a male to speak for me,” she waved her arm at Damion who lifted his right eyebrow curiously at her, “then I have chosen. He is officially on my ledgers as of this morning as my protector. Which means, if I am unable to speak on my own behalf, then it’s his job now.”

She knew they hadn’t spoken about that little fact of becoming a protector for a royal family member, or anything else required of the position, but Damion’s face didn’t give away that he’d had no idea. Instead, he smiled at the elves. “I would prefer to advise that we go somewhere more private, so that we can actually take a seat and talk like the fine folk we are.” Damion waved a hand at Volencia, who raised her chin and stomped through the hall again.

“Oh, she’s got fire in her veins today.” Claven whispered to Lock, as they followed behind Volencia, who had calmed enough to pull her father’s arm into hers and was now speaking at a low level with him. “When someone as cowed as she was yesterday suddenly finds such flame, it does make one wonder what changed?”

Damion glared at them when they turned to look at him, but headed up the rear, Gregron marching beside him. They were talking in the back, but Volencia couldn’t hear them from here and chose to ignore it. The had to go nearly all the way around the castle to get to her father’s study. Leaving behind the private rooms in the east wing towers, down through the main level until they reached the west wing. A guard opened the large mahogany door, his eyes following them in before closing it behind them.

Venron immediately took his seat beside the hearth. A large leather chair with mirrored pins pushed into the fabric. Originally purchased from the Chiaro Isles in the South. Gregron stood to Venron’s right. Dressed in the grandeur of his General title, he struck an impressive image. Volencia moved more slowly into the room. She hadn’t had time to give Damion any instruction as to what he should do or how to act and worried at her lip.

Choosing the seat across from her father, Damion placed himself in the same relative spot to her as Gregron had to Venron. His clothes were simple and worse for the wear after yesterday; but standing beside her she thought he cut just as impressive a figure as Gregron.

Of course, Lock and Claven would show up without introduction or warning, Volencia did not bother to wait until they sat first, as would have befitted guests of the King. It was her small way of making sure they knew they were not welcome here. Lock and Claven sat together on a large ornate sofa.

“Damion?” She turned her head speaking his name softly.

“Yes, Princess?” He knelt beside her, his tone meeting hers, but his eyes were everywhere but on her.

“Would you please ring to have someone come in to pour some drinks?” She was almost whispering because he was so close. The urge to reach out and touch his arm, which was now resting on the edge of her chair, was almost too much to bear.

“Would it somehow be offensive if I just poured drinks myself?” He looked at the bar set up near her father’s desk and then his green eyes met hers. He was close enough that she could smell the mint on his breath.

“Not offensive, just weird.” She wondered if he felt as breathless when they were this close as she did.

He smiled warmly at her, “And what can I get for you?”

Heat curled around in her belly, her hand fluttered near his arm, but fell to her lap as she said, “I’ll just have a glass of wine. And my father and Gregron always have the whiskey out of the crystal decanter with the gold on it.” His hand squeezed her shoulder gently as he stood. Her eyes followed him as he went to the bar. He poured and offered her glass first.

“Not very hospitable, are we?” Lock frowned at the goblet in her hand.

“Not to those who would steal my kingdom from beneath me. Nor those who come to my home to rape me in front of my folk and force me into their services.” Her smile faded, as her eyes locked with his. She was in no mood to deal with him today. Damion delivered Venron and Gregron’s drinks next. Gregron said something that made him chuckle before heading back to the bar. “To be quite honest, you’ve stated that you have a plan to keep the peace between Belodia and Thambair, but really, I’m not interested in the least.”

“You don’t want to keep peace between our kingdoms?” Claven’s words were pronounced but spoken softly into the room. His eyes narrowing at each of them in turn.