Amory's fingers tapped his desk as he read through the letter for a fifth time. It didn't make any sense. He rested his head in his hand as he leaned against the wood.
"Oh, Mirella…" He whispered. He'd get her out of that palace one way or another.
He strode from the room and entered his bedroom. The maids began to dress him for the superfluous dinner. It drained him to be without Mirella; he had been expecting her to be by his side at all times, her laughter and cunning remarks giving him the energy to continue in his role.
But he was stuck with a dull, witless girl who had already caused a mob to form in the city centre. While his true betrothed was stuck in the catacombs of Viland where his spies could not reach her.
He combed his hair back himself and then stepped from his room and to the feast hall.
His steps slowed significantly upon seeing his wife standing there. Her dark veil still hid her features. Her dress did not match his in any way and the colour of it was rather offensive.
The pale lime green dress stretched from her shoulders to cover her feet. It was of Nothad fashion, but there were no ornaments or gold stitching. Only a few white embellishments.
Her head turned to see him and he crossed the distance between them.
"Good evening, your majesty." She curtsied. He only nodded. He heard her sigh and he rolled his eyes. Did she truly think that he would be impressed by her presentation?
Their arms linked and the doors opened. Amory's eyes swept over the room and all of the people gathered there. His wife looked like a simple child compared to the duchesses seated at the long, oaken table. He could hear her heart rate increase and he found himself more and more displeased with her temperament.
He wished his charming Mirella were here. Her bright smile and keen eyes would've lit up the entire room. And the veil would've been long gone.
The guests stood and bowed to them. He released her sweaty hand as she took her seat at the end of the table. He walked back to the head of the table and took his seat—much larger in comparison to hers—and watched as the guests sat back in theirs.
Without a word he began to eat, knowing the rest of the table would take the hint and begin eating. A servant walked forward and poured his wine. He picked up the goblet and listened as the conversation slowly picked up.
He watched—like a crocodile—from the rim of his goblet; observing the nuances of the people as he eavesdropped on their words.
He strained his ears to the end of the table when he heard the Duchess Hilde say something to his wife, who was seated next to her.
"Tell me, your highness. Why do you still wear the veil?" Her cheery voice asked and he watched as she stuffed some of the veal into her mouth.
His wife's face was hidden from him by the candle sticks and decor. But he could still sense her hesitation. He heard her open her lips, saying, "The veil symbolizes innocence and youth," She paused, "As long as I still wear it, I still possess those things."
Interesting answer, he thought as he stirred his own veal in the gravy.
"So, the king has not yet done the deed?"
His eyes glanced up from his food and to where the duchess sat. She was notoriously known for her gossiping nature, he scoffed silently to himself; she must be tortured by the fact she did not know of their bedroom life.
Again, his wife hesitated. He was admittedly curious as to how she would answer. "I believe that what occurs in the privacy of my quarters, or his majesty's, are none of your business, duchess."
He narrowed his eyes. Her words did not exactly say yes or no, but all the signs pointed to the fact that he had yet to touch her. And he never planned to. He had made the decision that he would simply ignore her existence until King Absalom released Mirella to him.
His wife's answer was not the issue, it was the fact that she'd known the duchess' status. Throughout the entirety of the meal he'd not once heard the duchess' status mentioned.
He pushed the puzzling matter from his mind and focused on other things.
As he ate he blocked out the rabble and ran through scenarios in his mind of how to free his beloved.
By the time the dinner was finished he had discerned no plan that would not be seen as an act of war. He was still enraged by the injustice of it all. So what if Mirella had done something scandalous, he didn't mind, and she certainly has done such things before.
The royal family of Vilsnd had done an exemplary job covering it up, because he could not discover what she'd done, from any of his sources.
Worry suddenly clouded his mind. Had she betrayed their oath? Had she dwelt with another man? His vision reddened at the thought of another man touching her.
But no. She wouldn't do that. She loved him the same as he loved her.
He stood from his seat and looked to the still seated people, "I bid you goodnight." He began to walk away before finishing his sentence.
He had met his wife's eyes for a moment and stifled a laugh at the shrewdness in them. What was there to be so shrewd about?
He wandered back to his room and threw his heavy coat off, followed by his boots. He sat down at his desk and began writing letters to the province's of his kingdom, then letters to his spies.
Once he was finished he walked to one of the windows and leaned against the stone looking out through the fogged glass.
His brow furrowed when he saw a cloaked figure walking through the misty courtyard. He raised his chin and narrowed his eyes when he saw there was only a dark space in place of a pale face.
He shook his head and fought the temptation to laugh.
He did laugh quietly when he saw her enter the library. What sort of foolish woman was she to be going to the library at night?
No, Amory did not believe his ancestor, King Horst, haunted the building. But it unnerved everyone to even walk near it, much less enter it.
Very strange…