Chapter 6 : Luncheon

Erik’s POV

I underestimated the strength of Alder-brewed brandy.

What else was I supposed to do?

We arrived in Aldermor early and I had no interest in seeing the sights or sitting outside in the sunlight. It was too warm here and sweat beaded under my furs so I had to discard them as soon as we were brought to the guest house, which looked like a massive treehouse to suit their massive trees.

My brothers and even Magnus joined our parents to enjoy breakfast on the upper deck, overlooking the forest on one side and level with the palace walls on the other.

It was too damn sunny and we didn’t have an audience with the king until tomorrow afternoon anyways. So I closed the curtains, kicked my feet up on the bed, and tipped back a bottle of Aldermor brandy.

Yes, the whole bottle.

I closed my eyes and when I opened them again Magnus was looking down at me, my mother was pacing around my chambers and I think my father almost knocked the hinges off my door.

“Oh, he’s alive,” Magnus said, breathing a sigh of relief. My mother was dressed in nice silks, face buried in her hands.

“What going on?” I grumbled, blinking away bleariness, or trying to.

“He smells like a distillery,” my father said with exasperation. “How are we supposed to greet the King like this?”

I swallowed the dryness in my throat and sat up in the chair next to my bed. “I’m fine,” I slurred, getting up out of my seat.

Oh. Not fine.

The room spun and I crashed right back down in my chair. I held up the empty bottle of brandy. “What they put in this?”

“Dear Gods, I thought you had enough common sense not to drink today, Erik,” my mother sighed. Why are there two of her?

I didn’t know what they were talking about. Our luncheon wasn’t until tomorrow. Oh no. They moved it up.

Fuck.

As badly as I wanted to make the Alder Elves regret this arrangement, I didn’t want it to be because they thought I was a drunken fool.

“Shit,” I slurred my words. Mouth thick and gummy with saliva. “Why didn’t anyone tell me we were moving the luncheon to today?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You haven’t exactly been a joy to be around,” my mother remarked. She looked at my father. “Get the servants and get him washed. I better not smell the liquor on his breath.”

I felt utterly useless. My feet wouldn’t work and I kept stumbling around the castle, thoroughly embarrassing my entire family.

I barely remember getting sat down at the banquet hall and being served a platter of snacks and appetizers that I proceeded to stuff into my face. My parents were making polite talk with the King and Queen of Aldermor while I tried my damndest to keep my mouth shut.

Oh shit, King Varric is looking at me. His warm-toned skin and auburn hair seemed indicative of the environment. Summery. I bet Poppy looked summery too.

“You must be Prince Erikeer,” King Varric greeted, reaching out a hand to shake mine.

“Eirikur,” I corrected.

He raised a distinguished brow. “Pardon?” His mouth was ticked into a frown, and even though I was completely sloshed, I knew he didn’t like me one bit.

Too fucking bad.

“It’s pronounced Erik-er, not Irik-eer.”

Queen Francesca looked at her husband, an expression of concern on her face, but she didn’t say anything.

“I hear no difference,” King Varric claimed, turning his head away from me to address my parents so I could see that one of his ears was torn up.

I should keep my mouth shut. Let it go. But the brandy blurred my restraint. My father gave me a warning look as I declared, “Perhaps you should see someone about your hearing, King V-ear-ik.”

His head spun around to look at me, a brightness pinkening his face. So, it wasn’t a hearing problem. His lip curled, but, unlike me, he let it go. King Varric leaned over to one of the servants to have a hushed conversation.

“My daughter should be joining us soon,” he stated. “Now, King Thurston, why don’t you inform me about Myrkr’s best exports and we can draft some plans for after the wedding while we wait.”

“I think that is a great idea,” my father replied, much more cordial than usual. Almost as if he was overcorrecting his temperament until he figured out this new environment.

I should take a page out of his book, but with the brandy starting to leave my system, I felt relaxed. My body felt heavy. I had to get myself another bottle of that stuff. It truly was miraculous.

Hunger gnawed at my stomach as I kept eating the refreshments, popping these delicious green berries into my mouth so they’d pop and coat my tongue with a lovely sweetness.

In Myrkr we had root vegetables and hearty fruits. Berries didn’t grow well in the climate so this was a wonderful treat.

Suddenly, Anders elbowed me hard in the side.

Before I could utter a, “What?” my eyes were drawn across the banquet hall to a red-headed beauty. Dressed to the nines in an ornate green robe that complimented her hair and matched her eyes.

Round, sweet-looking eyes.

Is that Poppy?

She couldn’t have been older than the legal age. She looked too young.

My eyes devoured everything I could see. Taking in every inch of her. This was to be my adversary. The unwanted woman I was engaged to. Her defined cheekbones gave her face an elegant quality, balancing out the delicateness of her nose.

At first look, the woman was absolutely stunning.

But there were beautiful girls back home too. She was nothing special. There weren’t even any bloodstains on her dress. I bet she’s never even seen blood. I bet she’d never even lifted a finger. Not even to brush her hair. I was sure her handmaidens catered to her every waking moment for her.

Poppy was nothing more than a prissy princess and there was nothing that would change my mind.

I told myself that, but still, my gaze was locked on her, admiring the refinement of her movements. She looked young in the face, but every time she moved it was with a purpose that made her feel older.

I felt tongue-tied, dizzy like I was struck over the head with a sledgehammer. It wasn’t the alcohol. Not all of it, at least.

Her eyes met mine and I was expecting her to look away when she realized the intensity of my gaze. But she didn’t.

That sobered me up pretty fucking fast.

My heart hammered with the promise of a challenge. The bite of something unexpected. Her reaction told me one thing. Poppy wasn’t intimidated by me.

I didn’t know whether to respect that or find that irritating.

She raised her chin higher, matching my gaze as she took a seat next to her father. Her expression was bold, looking at me with interest, but when her hands rose to pluck some appetizers off her plate, they were shaking.

She was flustered.

And doing her damndest to hide it.

Poppy stopped eating and placed her hands under the table to hide them from my observant eyes. And I was eager to observe.

“How about we give Eirikur and Poppy some time to get to know each other?” Queen Francesca suggested, reaching over to squeeze her daughter’s shoulder. “Without chaperones?”

Instantly, King Varric stood up. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Perhaps, that is not a great idea,” my mother interjected, looking uncharacteristically nervous. Probably due to the fact that I’m still intoxicated.

“Nonsense,” Queen Francesca argued. “They are betrothed. They need time to get to know each other. And we, Varric, should spend some time with Thurston and Yrsa. This wedding is joining our entire family, not just our daughter.” She looked toward one of the servants. “Send for Dot to show the Myrkrson brothers around the palace and their accommodations.”

Poppy suddenly laughed under her breath, instantly piquing my interest. It wasn’t a shrill sound or an annoying giggle. It sounded throaty and carefree. Very unlike how she appeared. “Oh, Dotty has been looking forward to meeting all of you. They could even meet Lorcan,” the princess offered, those petal pink lips widening into a genuine smile.

My throat tightened, and the visual of her smile struck me, making her seem that much more beautiful. I bet her father beat off her suitors with a stick. I’m sure there was no shortage of them.

Queen Francesca liked Poppy’s suggestion and squeezed her daughter’s shoulder again. “I’m sure they’ll keep you busy.” She looked at her husband and said under her breath, “There will be guards outside, love.”

King Varric’s knuckles looked white from how hard he clenched the tablecloth. He looked over at Poppy and ground his teeth together like he was teetering between calling off the proposal altogether and relenting to his wife’s request.

An overprotective father.

That could be fun.

A devious desire to press his buttons roused in my belly. But I held back for now. Right now I had to see what Poppy was made out of.

Was she gentle and intelligent like her mother?

Brash and demanding like her father?

Or something else entirely?

Only time would tell.

My mother’s violet eyes were flared, looking sharply at me before her shoulders slackened. A dark-haired Alder Elf walked in, drawing everyone’s gaze to the petite woman. She was cute. My brothers would certainly spend all afternoon being distracted by her.

She curtseyed, pink-tinted cheeks as she stood up, looking over my table. I’m sure we all looked intimidating. We weren’t allowed to have weapons in the Court palace, but the Myrkr Elves had evolved into predators. We were all tall and broad, some of us more so than others, but I was still taller than King Varric and my father was a mountain next to every Alder Elf in the castle.

Even the guards.

“Good afternoon, I’m Dorothy, Princess Poppy’s lead handmaiden, but you can call me Dot. Please, follow me,” she offered, standing straight and politely leading my brothers out of the room. I’m sure Anders and Bjorn would be on their best behavior. They were the gentler of the three. Ulf was going to be the problem. Too rambunctious for his own good.

Once my brothers had left, my mother came to my seat and bent down to my ear. “Behave,” she warned.

I wanted to tell her that I always behaved, but she was gone before I could talk back, both sets of parents leaving the banquet hall before King Varric could change his mind.

Then suddenly, we were alone.

I glanced up at Poppy, still sitting across the room at the head table. Without my family lording over me, I sunk down in my seat and propped my feet up on the table, popping more of those delicious green berries into my mouth.

She watched me closely, not speaking, but it felt like she had me under a magnifying glass.

“If you want a closer look, Princess, you should come over here,” I stated, taking a long drink of a sweet citrusy concoction my mother gave me.

“I’d rather you come over here,” Poppy replied. “I have more cherryreed berries. You’ve almost polished off the entire basket over there.”

Cherryreed. Is that what these berries were called? Delicious.

I stood up from my chair, legs considerably more stable than earlier. I guess the liquor ran its course hard and fast. I carried my glass over to her table, not taking my eyes off her for a moment.

Her shoulders shifted as if she was uncomfortable, even though her chin stayed firmly lifted and defiant. I pulled her father’s chair across from her, sat down, and dragged the big basket of berries over to myself.

I watched her throat bob a few times, chewing on the corner of a hunk of bread before she asked, “So, is it pronounced Irik-eer?”

With a press of my fingers to the bridge of my nose, I said, “Erik-er. Your father couldn’t seem to get it either.”

Her eyes narrowed, determination flaring there. I liked it, but I squashed that feeling right down. I wasn’t supposed to like her. I was supposed to despise her. I wouldn’t forget my plan.

Make her as miserable as I was.

“Erik-er?” she inquired, arching an eyebrow. At least she put the work into it.

“There you go, Princess. Well on your way to speaking Myrkr-tongue,” I commented, popping another berry into my mouth. “I wonder what else has been on the receiving end of that tongue.”