Commotion

Derya clearly heard Nineve's voice inside her head as she walked between the tables to join her future betrothed and their "most honored" guest.

*A princess exudes charm, power, control, and mystery. These are all weapons under the right circumstances, enchant your guests, keep them focused on what you want them to see, and distract them from what you don't want them to see. Do not allow them under your guard. This is a battle with foils, and even though you can do no great damage, you can wound. Make sure you're never the one bleeding.*

Those instructions came in handy as much as she hated using while to win a battle, but it was the only weapon she had. The guest of honor and most of the people in that hall stared at her as if they were in a trance, and Safiya looked murderous.

This fairytale dress outshone the nearly trashy garb the princess had chosen to show her up, and the tiniest smirk touched Derya's lips as their eyes met.

"Stop baiting her," Bailey warned without moving her lips or shifting her shy smile.

Her ears were hidden by her hair, and Derya hated that she had to do that.

Why could people not just get along?

"Yes, mistress," she said, a slight bite to her words, also without moving her lips.

"I didn't mean it like that," the princess sounded the slightest bit disconcerted and bewildered.

"But you are right. She's already spitting venom. If she faekind, she would definitely be a Gorgon."

The halfling reined in her laughter with admirable self-control, yet the shadows in her eyes bothered Derya. What she had done plagued her dreams, and she often woke up screaming.

They stopped before the main table, curtsying before King Altois of Afgar and Prince Andor.

"Welcome ladies. We thought you would not grace us with your presence tonight," Andor said, appreciating her figure briefly before turning his attention to his sister. "You both look ravishing."

"Beauty takes time, your majesty," Derya said graciously, and she purposefully looked into his eyes as if he were the only person in the room before turning her attention to King Altois. "Our apologies for keeping you both waiting."

"It was definitely worth the wait," King Altois almost seemed dazed, and she had to remember to thank Adae for her deft perception.

"Take a seat. Our guests must be starving," Andor invited, patting the empty chair next to him, situated between him and Altois. He had definitely caught onto her ploy as both admiration, and the slightest tinge of jealousy warred in his eyes.

Once they were seated, Andor lifted his wineglass.

"To my future bride, may her lovely presence always bring us joy!" he toasted, and the entire hall toasted with him. Even as Derya kept her smile in place, she couldn't help thinking that if they knew she wasn't human, they would not quite be so enthusiastic.

"Are you not going to toast my father and I, since we are the guests of honor?" Safiya drawled from Altois' right hand side.

"You are right, and I was about to do so. A toast to King Altois of Afgar, who came so far to attend my wedding, and his lovely daughter. May Princess Derya and I also one day attend your wedding, dear Safiya. Our kingdoms have always been such close friends."

*If this were fencing, three points to Andor.*

Safiya looked rabid, and Altois's lips compressed briefly, his shoulders tensing, but then he relaxed.

"Although I always hoped we would have a closer bond, I must confess, Andor; you have excellent taste in the fairer sex,"

"How far north is this kingdom of yours, my dear?"

"Far enough that the lakes and forests turn to mountains and deserts. One side of our kingdom is a wasteland of mighty dunes, while the other is an oasis of valleys, rivers, and farmland. The desert protects our borders, and although it makes traveling as difficult as those winding mountain paths between valleys, our kingdom has never fallen." And her father said she'd never have a use for all those hours she spent reading her dusty old books.

"How long were you on the road?"

"It should have been thirty days of travel by swift carriage from our border, but we suffered several misfortunes along the way, and it took nearly twice as long. When we arrived, it took two days for the ground to stop moving under my feet." Her smile almost distracted him from her words.

It didn't surprise her when Andor possessively folded her hand in his, and she turned to him to smile at him and briefly get lost in those eyes. He's been very attentive and possessive in public to cement their "relationship" for the eyes of those who watched, and it had been no hardship to play along.

"Announce dinner, please, my love," he said, and a thrill went down her spine.

"Dinner is served," she didn't raise her voice, but her voice projected, and it was a trick she learned from her father.

"About time. I am starving," Bailey grouched from Andor's other side, and Argana chuckled beside her.

"Children should eat in their rooms," Safiya sniped, and Altois grew still beside Derya, is icy blue eyes turning to steel as the gray-haired but still handsome man turned his head to glare at his offspring.

"You dare disrespect Andor's sister in public," he hissed quietly.

"She's fae. If she belonged to anyone else, she'd be long since burned, and good riddance," Safiya whispered.

Unfortunately, a lull had fallen in the conversation when people noticed the tension between father and daughter, and her comment carried. Andor's hand tightened on hers, and Bailey would have stood had his other hand not grasped hers, preventing her from rising and drawing any more attention to herself.

"Apologize, and excuse yourself," Andor bit out, lips tight, shoulders squared, and the veins in his neck standing out.

"Excuse me? I've not yet eaten, and I am not ready to leave, nor will I apologize for the truth. Let a single person here contradict me," she said mutinously.

"Do you always allow your daughter to stand against your word?" Prince Herrick of Argyl asked from beside Argana.

"No, it seems she has forgotten her place. Commander, take my daughter to her quarters. Lock her in with no food and water until she apologizes to me, Prince Andor, and Princess Bailey." The commander approached, and she slapped away his hand when he aimed to take her arm.

The crowd gasped, and Altois seemed to grow taller.

"Are you refusing my command?" the king asked, and the crowd had grown silent.

Another of Ninive's little sayings popped into Derya's mind. The woman was such a contradiction between elven royalty and something a little less classy. "And it was in that moment the little princess realized that she had fae'd up." How many times had her guardian said that to her and about her or about others?

"Andor, do you have an open dungeon?" Altois asked without glancing at the prince.

"We're making a scene at Andor's rehearsal for his betrothal dinner," Safiya nearly squeaked as the extent of her mistake registered.

"Then it's a good thing it is a rehearsal," Altois said and slapped her clear across her chair. She collapsed, holding her fast reddening cheek, and she was so shocked she allowed the commander to help her to her feet. Her wide eyes and incredulous expression clearly said she had never experienced her father's displeasure in such a way.

"Take her away," Altois said in measured tones.

"To the dungeons?" the commander asked warily, afraid to invoke his king's wrath as well.

"Yes."

"King Altois, forgive me for interfering, but the dungeons are no place for a princess, take her up to the north tower," Argana suggested.

He glanced at her with some irritation at first but then relaxed and nodded his consent, taking his seat and motioning for the server to bring his meal.