“I don’t need to explain what happens when you disrespect the king, gentlemen. Do I?” Zyion’s question sounded from directly behind me. “The Seat of Honor belongs to his wife or a daughter. Do you have reason to refuse the princess her seat?”
Baldrick stood with anger trickling off him. “Vanir blood doesn’t make you royalty, Vicious. My blood is that of our true kings. You think this traitorous whore can save you from your sins? Your time is near. I’ll be there when it happens, and I expect my pound of flesh.”
“I’ll be waiting for you to come try to collect.” Zyion’s body had heat drifting from it in gentle waves. As if, like me, he couldn’t fully control the warmth of his inner core. Zyion remained behind me until the asshole had begun moving down a couple rows. Once I stepped closer to the seat, he rebuked me inside my head. “You don’t sit until your father rises. It’s customary for the men to rise for a woman to sit, princess.”
“And they say chivalry is dead,” I returned with a hint of laughter in my voice. “To be crystal clear? I’m very taken. Happily, so.”
“Says the girl who allowed spiders to nest in our vagina? What’s so happy about that?”
The men around Griffon stood before he, himself, rose. Once everyone had, I nodded at my father with a small smile playing on my lips. Zyion offered his hand as I turned, staring into his gaze as his lips moved before lowering to my trembling fingers.
“He will not harm you, Aria. I will not allow it.” His promise resonated inside my head until my inner thoughts blasted through my head. I wasn’t afraid of the man. But my response to this guy? That worried—no, it terrified me. “That isn’t something either of us can help, I’m afraid. Don’t worry, though. I will do my best not to touch you unless it is required of me.” Zyion turned on his heel and took the stairs to the field two at a time. “I am not interested in you, princess. ‘I love you’ is nothing but a death sentence when it’s whispered from my lips and my job is to keep you alive. Your issues, and that of your creature are on you, not me. If it helps, you’re a natural at this. It’s almost as if you were born to rule this kingdom.”
“Do you normally talk to yourself, Vicious?” I countered, but I felt the thread tighten painfully as I called him what the others did. “You don’t like that name. Do you?”
“You can call me whatever you like, Your Majesty. Except for ‘Blah, blah, blah’.”
“Don’t be an asshole, Zyion. I’m asking you a question. If you and I are linked, I prefer we know what the other likes to be called.”
“Just call me ‘daddy’, mommy.” Sarcasm had dripped from his tone.
“As if I’d call you my daddy?” I countered with a deepening frown, sliding my regard to where he stood, bathed in shadows, observing me from within them. “Oh, daddy! I’m a very bad girl. Come spank me,” I teased, but it came out in a rasped tone. Zyion pushed off the post he’d leaned against and scrubbed a hand down his face.
“You are right. Probably shouldn’t call me that moments before I’m to request your colors, vicious princess. I can’t wait to see what you’re like as our queen,” he purred roughly.
“My colors?” I questioned, turning to find Griffon watching Aden talking to three women. Three women were making asses out of themselves, vying for his attention, but he was too focused on me to notice. It felt as if he’d been staring at me, trying to get my attention for some time.
“The strands of fabric you hold. Your colors. You hand them to whichever knight you wish to honor with them. They tell the crowd which warrior to cheer for.”
“Why wouldn’t they choose that themselves?”
“It’s a tradition. Don’t worry, Aria. I don’t actually expect you to give me yours. The last one to honor me with her colors was your grandmother, but I failed her. Aden would be the better choice to offer your colors to. He’s an honorable knight and favored by your kingdom.” There was a heaviness in the way he’d spoken about Scylla that had my stomach dropping. If he and I had this strange connection, did he have the same with her? Was their relationship more than queen and guard? Before I could ask, Aden began making his way toward where Griffon and I sat.
“Aden will be honored to accept your colors, daughter,” he said with a stern look on his face.
Esme and Eva chose that moment to sit beside me, which made me frown. They’d both vanished after my embarrassing outburst, which Zyion and Ember had forced me into. Their departure made me wonder why they did so.
“They’re not part of the royal bloodline. You are. Unless you’re directly in line for the throne, you have to come in from the back of the dais. You have much to learn. It’s a good thing you have me, since those who were supposed to teach you don’t seem to be doing so.” Zyion was moving up the left of the dais while Aden climbed the other. The beat of my heart picked up with each step closer each man took. “Rise and turn to the left. Offer Aden your colors.”
I stood as instructed, turning toward Aden, who looked at me with excitement. His stare slid over my shoulder, then returned to my face with a smugness that irked me.
“My princess, would you honor me with your colors?” He asked, before bowing in a flourished move.
“I’d be honored if the princess would honor me with her colors as well.” Repeating his words, Zyion expressed interest, but there was no expectation in his tone.
They both waited for my choice as Griffon cleared his throat, nodding toward Aden as I considered my choice. The moment I turned toward Zyion, a ripple of shocked murmurs moved through the crowd.
“What are you doing?”
“If my grandmother trusted you with her colors, then I will strive to do so as well. Don’t disappoint me, Zyion.”
“You can’t do that!” Aden hissed.
“If you didn’t want me to choose, then you shouldn’t have given me a choice. Personally, I’ve always preferred the underdog.” Stepping closer to Zyion, I grabbed his large, rough, scarred hand and placed the material in his waiting palm. Then I returned to my chair, smirking at the rage simmering in Aden’s eyes. “Good luck, gentlemen.”
Chapter Sixteen
Aria
The crowd remained silent as Aden and Zyion began moving toward the field. My focus remained on Zyion and the incessant tug of the thread that seemed to run between us. I endeavored to calm the thread, to get it to stop its overtly agitated insistence I pay attention to it. I didn’t want to disturb him, not with the mounting intensity of the crowd building. I wasn’t sure what had been between the men, but there was unquestionably bad blood between them.