The King's Mistress

Chapter Four

(King Wesley)

My eyes scour the hoards of women that now parade themselves in front of me, hiding beneath the masquerade of a ball. They think I do not know why they have been brought before me. My lips pull into a sneer. They were all preening doves, eager to catch my eye. It was not hard to gather just who was responsible for this. My advisors were relentless in their quest for a male of noble blood to ascend my throne...as if my other children were not worthy.

Four girls. That is what I have brought into this world. I loved each of them with every fiber of my being. Alas, I did not get to see them as often as I would like. I could not bear the thought of stripping them from their mother’s care, so, when the mother’s inevitably left my side, so did the girls. 

A steward at my side is quick to point out those women whom he thinks might interest me. He whispers their names, ranks, and social standing into my ear, like a snake. Fingers digging into the arms of my throne, I resist the urge to wrap my hand around his thin neck. One name, however, catches my immediate intention.

"Duchess Elena Miroet and her niece, Aya Courbet."

I seek out the owner of that familiar name. It takes me a moment but I eventually find her. The Miroet family were among the few that were in direct line for my throne should I fail to provide an heir.  Though but a boy at the time, I remembered Lady Elena. She’d attempted, and failed, to wriggle her way into my father’s bed. I often wondered why. She was, after all, quite the attractive woman.

Her late husband, on the other hand, was not so fortunate. He’d been a boorish, albeit wealthy, man of short stature. There had been rumors of his preference towards inappropriately younger girls. If memory served me correctly, he’d perished in some freak riding accident that no one could explain. Not that there had been much of an inquiry. Henry did not have many friends at court. No one mourns his passing. Not even his widow it would seem.

My eyes travel to the wilting girl at her side. Eyes the color of cooling glass, hair the color of dying embers, she is certainly a sight to behold. Her family name, Courbet, is not a name I thought I'd ever hear uttered in my court again. It'd been quite a scandal in my father's day: a high-ranking noblewoman eloping with a stable boy

I sit up straighter, leaning forward ever so slightly. She practically clings to Lady Elena’s side, doing her best to remain unseen. She shifts to and fro, eyes surveying the room with growing apprehension. She appears to be looking in every direction except for mine. She makes no attempt to catch my gaze. In fact, it appears she is doing everything in her power to remain invisible. But it's far too late for that. Lady Elena is the first to catch my gaze. A faint yet amused smile lingering on those dark lips of hers, she gives her niece a light nudge.

The girl looks to her aunt who subtly motions in my direction. When her eyes travel in my direction, she’s like a scared little doe. Eyes wide with alarm, she knows she has been seen. To her, I am the predator. I’m not sure what to do with that information. It is clear she has no desire to be here. Unlike my father before me, I have no interest in taking a woman to my bed that does not wish to be there.

A great sadness weighs beneath those pools of swirling blue. Her bottom lip quivers in utter terror, her face turning a few shades paler. We stare at one another for a moment,  her eyes widening even further when I do not look away. She fumbles into a low courtesy, mimicking her aunt. 

"Dante. The girl, Aya. Are you sure she has been Touched?"

The man nods his head firmly, "Aye. Our sources have confirmed it."

Of course. This entire thing has been a setup from the very beginning. I wave the steward off with a flick of my wrist. I settle back against my throne. I am unable to tear my gaze from the girl known as Aya. Even her name sounds foreign on my tongue. It certainly was not one I’d ever heard of before. Beneath the flickering candlelight, I can see that there is something off about the color of her skin. It is more of an olive complexion than one might expect from a native of Estoa. 

The country of Estoa, though rich in resources, was not exactly a diverse nation. Those that resided within its borders were, more often than not, of a delicate complexion. I did not know why this was. We did not allow the owning of slaves as some did. One might think that would boost the amount of people seeking refuge at our borders. 

Estoa is surrounded by mountains on one side, the ocean on the other. The quickest path was through the Ridgeway Mountains, a treacherous way to travel.Few ever dared to attempt such a journey. Then again, I had yet to see all of Estoa. Perhaps, the country is more diverse than I think. I make a mental note to speak with my advisors on perhaps taking a tour of the country, something no King had done in quite some time.

When my attention returns to the young girl, one of the few men in attendance pulls the girl to the floor. She recoils, a grimace crossing her face as his hand wraps around her waist. It is a grimace not of disgust but of pain. It is a face I know well. Father was not known for his kindness and often times, I would end up at the heel of his boot.

The unnamed man releases her for a moment, wandering off to find a more willing dance partner. The girl does not linger. Instead, she slinks off to the side, tucking herself into a corner she thinks free of my gaze. Slivers of doubt pierce my chest. I wish to approach her, to gather to shivering frame into my arms in comfort. Would she allow such a thing? Perhaps. Perhaps not. 

Dante, the steward from earlier, reappears. His sharp slightly slanted nose turned up slightly, he begins to speak, "It would appear as if the Duchess is attempting to bribe a serving girl into allowing her niece to enter your bedchambers."

Ah, that’s right. Lady Elena is now Duchess Elena. I turn my focus back to the dance floor. The Duchess is beyond my line of sight. My lips tilt into a smirk. The Duchess plays a dangerous game. To think, she is so desperate for a change at my throne that she would throw her own flesh and blood into the lion’s den. Everyone knows that entering my chamber unbidden is a crime punishable by death. 

Part of me knows the right thing to do. I should stop this before it even begins. I should settle on another for my mistress. Alas, my heart and my mind are made up. I do not want another. As silly and irresponsible as it may be, I only had eyes for Aya.

I want to know the touch of her delicate hands, to feel her lithe form writhing beneath me as I take her in every way imaginable. My body grows rigid at the thought. If the rumors are to be believed, she’s already been touched by a man. I find that incredibly difficult to believe as she has this air of innocence around her. There is only one way to find out.

"Very well. Inform the serving girl that she is to accompany the young girl to my bedchambers. Instruct her to act as if she has truly been bribed."

He nods and quickly disappears again, though not before I see the flash of disapproval in his eyes. My fingers brush across my chin. When I discover her in my bedchambers, I will feign anger in an attempt to gauge her true intentions. Perhaps the cowering girl before me is simply a ruse...a trick to deceive me about her true nature. Tis not a fair thing to do but I feel it must be done.

The Ball passes quickly. Part of me desperately wishes for another woman to pull my attention from her. Alas, no one does. My focus remains on her throughout the entire evening. I am powerless to divert my attention elsewhere. She remains hidden away in her corner.. She knows she is caught. The second our eyes met, she knew I would choose her. 

The defeat registers across those swirling pools of blue. I gnaw on my lower lips. Have I made a mistake? Once I am alone with this wilting flower of a girl, will I be able to stop myself from ravaging her? Of that, I am not so sure. I’ve always thought myself better than my father. But in truth, we are more alike than I dare to admit. We’ve each had more mistresses than we can count. Not all of my relationships with these women have produced children, thank the gods for that. 

 She teeters momentarily as if she might fall. I fight this overwhelming urge to offer my assistance. She braces herself against the wall for a moment. I seek out the Duchess. She still has yet to make an appearance.

After an eternity, the bribed serving girl and the Duchess reappear. They surround the girl, estinally cornering her. The Duchess leans in, lips moving in hushed whispers. Aya casts her gaze in my direction. I cannot help myself.  I smile in an attempt to offer her some comfort. It does not work. She averts her gaze. Her head shakes. She doesn’t want this. The Duchess grips her arm, pulling her away from the crowd. They disappear from my vantage point and it takes all my willpower not to leap from my throne and give chase., 

Though it is my desire to follow immediately, I do not. I give them time to drag the helpless and semi-unwilling female into my bedchambers.. Oh, bloody hell. What was I doing?  Dante offers a tap on my shoulder, nodding his head. It is time. I rise. Every eye in the room now on me, the women in the audience fall silent. They each wait in anticipation, assured I will choose one of them. They do not know my choice has already been made. I turn from the crowd, a growing ripple of disappointment following as I make my exit. . I can only hope that this choice does not turn out to be the biggest mistake of my life.