DINNER IN THE SHADOWS
1111 Words
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The dining hall shimmered with candlelight gold and crimson dancing off the crystal goblets, long tapestries sighing in the faint evening breeze. The scent of roasted pheasant and spiced wine hung thick in the air, almost masking the tension beneath it.
Emily sat beside the king.
It was the first time she had been invited — or commanded — to dine at his table since she became his ward. Her gown was pale silver, modest but finely made, chosen for her by the king’s own hand. The fabric caught the light like frost, but she felt its weight like armor. Every glance from the courtiers at the far end of the hall pricked like needles.
Across from her sat Lady Victoria and her mother, the Duchess of Renmere — both the picture of grace and disapproval.
The Duchess’s smile was sweet enough to curdle milk.
“How… unexpected,” she said smoothly, her eyes flicking toward Emily. “To see such youthful company at Your Majesty’s right hand.”
The king didn’t look up from his wine. “I find youth has a certain honesty,” he said. “Something most of my guests lack.”
A sharp silence followed — only broken by the faint clatter of Theodore’s fork at the far end of the table. The Duchess’s lips tightened, but she recovered quickly, her voice dripping with feigned charm.
“Indeed. Honesty is rare in court. Though I was under the impression honesty was better suited to the chapel than the throne.”
The king smiled faintly. “And yet I prefer my saints alive.”
Victoria laughed softly, her eyes glittering. “How like you, cousin, to turn virtue into vice and make it sound poetic.”
Emily kept her eyes down, focusing on her plate, pretending not to feel Victoria’s gaze burning through her. It wasn’t the words that stung — it was the way Victoria looked at her, as though she were a mistake that refused to disappear.
“So, Emily,” Victoria said sweetly, spearing a grape with her silver fork, “tell us, how does it feel to dine with kings? Surely it must be… overwhelming.”
Emily looked up, meeting her eyes. There was no safety in politeness anymore. “It’s only dinner,” she said quietly. “Not a coronation.”
Theodore’s mouth twitched, fighting a smile. The king, however, let out a low chuckle — the kind that sent a ripple of unease down the table.
“Careful, cousin,” he said to Victoria, eyes glinting. “You might find her wit sharper than your own.”
Victoria’s smile faltered for the briefest moment, though she hid it behind her goblet. “I meant no harm,” she said smoothly. “It’s only that some of us were raised at this table, and others…” Her gaze drifted back to Emily, the sentence trailing off like smoke.
Emily’s pulse quickened, but she forced a calm smile. “And yet, here we both sit.”
The king leaned back in his chair, clearly entertained. “I do love when my dinners crime with theater.”
The Duchess tried to change the subject, perhaps realizing her daughter was losing ground. “Your Majesty,” she said, her tone sugary, “we heard troubling rumors in the countryside. Something about unrest in the southern provinces. Surely, such matters weigh heavily upon you.”
“Only as much as I allow them to,” the king replied coolly. “I’ve learned not to lose sleep over peasants with opinions.”
“Of course,” the Duchess murmured, though her tone suggested disapproval.
Emily glanced toward Theodore. He met her eyes briefly — a subtle warning.
He knew the king’s mood better than anyone, and the glint in the monarch’s gaze tonight was not simple amusement. It was hunger — for power, for dominance, for control.
Victoria, sensing the shift, leaned forward, her voice softer now. “You seem restless tonight, cousin. Perhaps the weight of the crown grows heavy?”
The king’s lips curved faintly. “Not heavy — just dull. The crown doesn’t bite back.”
Victoria laughed lightly, though her mother’s eyes flashed with dismay. Emily stayed quiet, though her hands tightened in her lap. There was something darkly intimate in the king’s tone — the same darkness she’d seen in the dungeon when mercy and cruelty wore the same face.
“Tell me, Emily,” the king said suddenly, breaking the silence. His gaze caught hers — steady, unreadable. “What do you think of loyalty?”
Her breath caught. “Loyalty, Your Majesty?”
“Yes.” He swirled the wine in his goblet, his eyes never leaving her. “Do you believe it can be bought? Or earned?”
Emily hesitated, feeling every eye on her. “I think… true loyalty can’t be either. It’s given.”
The king’s smile deepened — slow, deliberate. “Given freely, even when undeserved?”
“Yes,” she said softly, meeting his gaze. “Especially then.”
The air shifted. Victoria’s mother looked scandalized, but the king only looked… intrigued.
“Well said,” he murmured. “And here I was told you were afraid of me.”
Emily swallowed. “Perhaps I am. But fear doesn’t mean silence.”
The king’s laughter was soft, genuine — the rarest kind. “Indeed it doesn’t. Remember that, Emily.”
The Duchess and her daughter exchanged glances — both baffled and furious at the ease with which this unknown girl spoke to their king. Theodore, however, watched in silence, his face unreadable.
He had seen this before — the way the king grew attached to dangerous things.
As the meal drew to a close, Victoria rose gracefully. “Cousin,” she said sweetly, “Mother and I thank you for your hospitality. Perhaps tomorrow, we might walk the gardens together. Like old times.”
The king inclined his head politely. “We’ll see.”
When they left, the air in the room lightened, though not by much. Emily exhaled, finally allowing herself to breathe. The king rose, his eyes still on her.
“You handled yourself well,” he said softly. “Most would’ve broken under Lady Victoria’s charm.”
“Charm,” Emily murmured, “or venom?”
He smiled faintly. “In this court, they’re the same thing.”
Theodore stepped forward then, voice even. “She’s learning quickly, Your Majesty.”
The king’s eyes gleamed. “Let’s hope she learns to survive even quicker.”
He turned and left the hall, leaving Emily and Theodore alone in the soft glow
- Writer
