The Dragon King’s Substitute Bride
Chapter 35

HERA

I most definitely had not started my day intending to end it hiding under the desk of the dragon king like some pesky palace rodent.

But then the earlier parts of the day had not gone according to plan either so this is no big surprise.

The morning itself had deceptively started just like the one before it.

For the second time since my introduction to the inhabitants of the dragon's castle, I had awakened with my head on a soft feather pillow, sandwiched comfortably between soft silk sheets and a warm blanket.

And just like the night before, I had found myself imagining that I was ten again.

But I knew from the previous day that it would not do to begin the day by wallowing.

So I had pushed down my yearnings and fantasies of home.

I had not even needed to glance at the other side of my bed to now that just like the morning before this one, it would be empty.

Once again I had awakened alone.

He never came.

Not last night. Not the night before last.

He never showed up. At least not in reality.

But in my dreams...gods above in my dreams.

Just thinking about it had been enough to get me all hot and bothered again.

And even cowering and hiding as I am right now, it still is.

But then I had known Henette would be at my door any second and she would ask me why I was turning red again and I did not think I could have come up with a convincing enough excuse so I tried my best to shake away the thought which of course had only made it cling harder to my mind.

Like clockwork Henette had knocked on my chambers and cautiously pushed open the door at the stroke of the sixth bell.

She had not been surprised to see I have been awake for quite a while and did not need her to rouse me from sleep; not now that she knows the truth.

Slaves in Averia awake at the crack of dawn and six long moons of continued servitude, has conditioned my body to do the same.

If she noticed that my husband the king had once again failed to make an appearance in our chamber, she said nothing of it.

It had not stopped me however from wondering where in all the realms he had gone to.

I knew he had not gone on a trip because while I had indeed seen him ride off on his horse in the morning the day before, I had also seen him return to the palace that night.

Yet in two days, the only times I had seen the dragon king were through the window of my tower.

And even then he never once looked up at me.

If I did not know better I would have assumed he was avoiding me.

Where was he even sleeping?

Minth...

A chill spread from my heart to the tip of my fingers.

"Surely he wouldn't...Oh who am I kidding of course he would. She is his mistress after all and I am nothing but the slave who tricked him into marrying her."

If Henette had heard me talking to myself she again made no mention of it.

I had tried very hard not to think about it; to at least pretend that it did not bother me.

But as Henette helped me dress, my mind had eventually wandered back to him no matter how many times I tried to steer it away, because forcing yourself not to think of something only makes you think of it even harder.

And the realization that not seeing Midas bothered me this much, had only served to bother me even more because I should have been happy to be away from him.

Yet I was not.

Now that I think about it from my delightful little hiding place with the dust and cobwebs under the King's desk, the trouble itself had not began with Midas' continued absence.

For while it may not seem like it, the dragon king still frightens me more than anything, I have only grown accustomed to hiding my fear behind snide words and sarcastic comments.

And not seeing him in two days had somehow made it marginally easier for me to begin accept my fate.

It is a madness of the highest order.

On the one hand, it is easier not to see him because he scares me and on the other hand I can not help but be disturbed by his sudden desire not to even look at me.

And the fact that he might be spending the nights with his mistress.

Arrgh, Hera. Stop it. If he doesn't want to see you then you do not want to see him either.

His chief Ryder however had meant it when he said he was not going to let me out of his sight.

After Henette had helped me into the day's attire, a simple silk dress of the lightest of blues with a long slit in one side and wide voluminous sleeves, I had decided I wanted to see the castle grounds that were now to be my home. But no sooner had I opened the doors that Leo appeared, insisting on accompanying me against my express, vehemently demonstrated disapproval.

I had even told him I would have preferred the still sulking Garwith and would much rather chew on rusted nails than have to spend my entire morning being watched and baby sat by the king's right hand man.

His response; "If that is the case your grace, I believe the castle marshal can be convinced to send up a bag of said nails. Would you prefer them long or shortened?"

Delightful man.

So with no choice in that matter I had resigned myself to spending the better part of my morning wandering the dragon castle grounds with Leo by my side.

That is until I caught myself sub-consciously looking for Midas around every corner.

Leo himself was no help.

Granted, in an effort to pretend like I did not care one way or the other, which I still don't, my questions had not been direct inquires, but I could tell he had understood my intentions because he kept smirking at me.

But he refused to be forthcoming about the king's whereabouts or whether it was indeed true that Midas was trying to avoid me and would only give sarcastic unclear comments in response to my questions.

In all honesty, he is even more sarcastic than I am and as he led me around me around the castle he made me want to pull out all my hair as well as his.

Which, in hindsight is how I assume most people feel about me.

Maybe that is why, even though I would rather swallow my own tongue than admit it, I had not entirely hated walking with him as much as I thought I would.

I had even found myself shocked into laughter once or twice.

There is also the added benefit that he does not terrify me like the golden eyed suddenly elusive dragon king I happen to be married to.

But no matter how hard I tried, he still would not tell me anything about Midas or where he was.

So I had forced myself to stop looking for him and maddening chief Ryder or not, I was determined to spend a pleasant, strangely beautiful morning, touring and trying my hardest to commit to memory the many turns and twists of the dragon's castle. And for a while it had not be entirely horrible.

That is until we walked past the royal fitting room and I decided out of curiosity to take a tiny peek.

It is here my troubles began for if I had simply walked past that room, I would not have had to do what I did that resulted in my now having to hide under a desk like a rodent.

My heart pounding in my chest because I know I am not supposed to be in here but unable to escape because I can see through the gap between the desk and the floor that I am no longer alone in the room.

But how was I to know that things would end this way?

Or that the seamstress upon seeing me, would delightful grab my hand in a vise like grip and pull me into the room.

Leo, traitor that he is, had somehow managed to conveniently make himself scarce between my opening the door and my being dragged inside.

Perhaps 'never letting me out of his sight' did not include when I was about to be tortured by the castle's seamstress.

Thinking about it now, I think he must have been sent to lure me there.

It's amazing really; the wonders panic at being caught in a awkward situation can do for your understanding.

The seamstress herself on first appearance gave no indications of the horrors to come.

She was a rather round, jolly looking woman with white hair packed in a bun and half-moon spectacles balanced on a rather cute button nose.

I had tried to tell her I was fine, that I had enough clothes already.

She had stared at the dress I had on, picking it between her fingers and wrinkling her nose in what can only be described as disgust.

"Surely her highness does not mean these..."

I looked down in confusion at my perfectly fine, perfectly beautiful clothes, my voice uncertain at the appalled look that had suddenly appeared on the woman's face.

"What is wrong with them?"

"Oh nothing, your grace." She said while still clutching at her chest and looking at me like I had mortally wounded her.

"It's just... those clothes were bought in the market when we were pressed for time and to think that some...some commoner might be even at this moment wearing the exact same dress as her majesty." she had sucked in a deep breath as if in actual physical pain. "Oh it simply will not do. Besides, his highness has expressly instructed that you must be fitted with an entirely new wardrobe."

"But..."

She maneuvered me unto a dressing platform. "I promise it will only take a moment."

It had not taken a moment.

And I spent the better part of my day on my feet being measured and poked and prodded with surprisingly sharp pins and frightening long needles.

How something so tiny could inflict so much damage I have no idea.

To make matters worse I was being pelted entire time with questions that to my non-princess, entirely clueless head felt like I was before the grand council fighting for my life.

Silk or satin...pink or coral... high neck or low...dinner gown or marquee ball.

Gods above, it had been enough to drive a girl mad.

So I began to plot my escape...again.

And given my track record with running away, it's no surprise things ended up the way they did.

I pretended to be interested in a bale of lace hanging in the inner room and then by 'accident' somehow knocked over an entire stack of baskets filled with tons of equipment.

The seamstress and her assistants, startled by the clatter, had promptly come in to investigate and make sure I was alright.

And when they had been sufficiently distracted, I snuck around them, hiked up my...commoner dress and made a mad, definitely un-queen like dash for the door.

There were startled cries of surprise and calls of "your majesty" but I refused to even look back.

In case they had decided to come after me brandishing those weapons of mass destruction they deceptively called needles, I snuck into the first open door I found.

Closing it shut behind me and pressing my ear against the wood, I attempted to slow my breathing.

I could hear them calling out for me and a burst of laughter had escaped my lips.

It was almost like I was a child again and for the first time in a long while; I had felt something other than fear.

Their voices faded and I looked around.

The room I had stepped into is a study of some sort and It had been immediately obvious exactly who it belonged to.

I remember how I had walked slowly around the room, my fingers brushing against the oak shelves that lined the walls; filled to bursting and bending under the weight of heavy, leather bound tomes.

I had immediately noticed that the room, like the man who owned it is immaculately in order.

Not a quill out of place.

His cloak had been laid out on the back of the chair behind the large stone table that appears to be built into the right wall and is almost entirely covered in stacks and scrolls of parchment paper, pots of ink and fine feather quills all neatly arranged in their place. Who knew being a king involved so much writing.

There was a large book lying open in the center of the table, like he had been sitting here only seconds ago and had merely stepped out a moment before my arrival.

If only I had escaped a second earlier, I might have...

I sighed away the thought and reached for the book that had most definitely been none of my business.

And that is when I had heard the voices; two men, coming closer with each passing second.

I had recognized only one.

The one I had been aching to hear since I woke up two days ago.

"Midas..."

The voices were nearer now and as I looked on in horror, the door knob began to turn.

So I did what every self respecting queen caught snooping in their husband's study would also have done in that moment.

I hid.

The door had opened the very same second and someone, most likely him, had entered into the room.

Hiding had seemed like a stroke of brilliance at the time, crawling under the table and making myself as small as possible.

Maybe he simply wanted to take something and leave.

But now, with dust in my nose threatening to make me sneeze and what I am almost entirely certain is a spider in my hair, I am beginning to seriously question my decision making abilities. Suddenly through the gap, I see his feet turn and begin to head back towards the door.

The gods be praised. Please let him be going away... let him be...wait...what was that click?

Did he just...lock the door?

Of all the rotten luck.

His feet stop inches away from. my hiding place.

"So how long until we stop pretending I do not know you are hiding under there?"