Beautiful Torment *Book One of the Beautiful series*

30) Escorted

In the end, Lucy did not get to go to Victoria and apologize. The moment she swung open her bedroom door, she was met by two stern looking guards--the conniving, mustached lieutenant and a lower ranking officer.

"Excuse me," Lucy huffed, an edge of sharp malice in her tone, "I need to speak with Victoria."

Instead of moving aside, the guards tightened rank so that it would have been nearly impossible for her to squeeze by them. "Princess Victoria has already been escorted to dinner by his young majesty. We have orders from the king that you are to follow, directly."

Lucy resented the sarcasm in the lieutenant's voice and the way his eyes raked down her body like she was nothing but a common whore he could spend a copper on to disappoint.

"Alexander then?" She asked witheringly.

The two men shared a moment of harsh laughter before the lieutenant cleared his throat, "the heir apparent has better things to do than trail a spoiled little princess around to every dinner. Let us go."

There was no room for further argument, the men stepped back to offer her just enough space to squeeze into the hallway and begin the long journey to the dining hall. Lucy's heart thumped loudly in her ears all the way down the winding path, lit by low burning lamps. She had to wonder where the relaxed feel of her first two weeks at the palace had gone. The days of a single guard escorting both her and Victoria. In the second week, they had been permitted to roam the halls alone, given that they avoided the rooms that had been strictly prohibited.

Was it the assassination attempt that had the royal family on edge? Or had the king and queen grown suspicious of her? Lucy's palms began to sweat at the thought, but she held her head high and walked with all the grace and poise Lady Katherine taught her in etiquette lessons.

When they reached the grand stairway that led down to the vast dining hall, Lucy paused for a breath. The walls were a familiar pale blue with high ceilings dotted with arrow toting cherubs dancing through puffy clouds. The trim and furniture were accented with gold and the tables were laden with fine China and a feast fit for an army--though far more succulent in its selection of food.

It seemed a smaller and quieter affair than any dinner she had experienced thus far, the crowed dwindled at a mere twenty. From her lessons she could identify most as the king's trusted advisors and families of the high council and war generals who held the highest influence at court.

When she dipped into view, the room quieted and the herald stepped forward to announce her.

"Princess Luciana Dawmeir of Relan," he drawled in his clear, echoing voice.

Little awed gasps escaped those who sat at the table bordering the royal families. A collective sound of thrill rolled over them when the light from the chandelier hit her silver dress just so--casting a twinkle like starlight off her skirts.

Lucy, though slightly awed herself, maintained a cool expression as she descended the stairs and thanked the goddess she did not stumble before reaching the bottom. Once there, she let her eyes scour the room for any sign of Alexander. He was there, seated at the right hand of the king, watching her like all the rest of them, though it was his expression alone that burned through her. Set her very blood on fire with a gaze so dark and alluring it felt like a living thing.

It took all of her willpower not to squirm as she moved across the polished floor to claim her seat beside him. Energy hummed in the air between them in each place their bodies did not meet but longed to.

"Princess," he muttered coldly without looking at her again. The voices around them picked up into a soft lull and Lucy felt the sweet release of eyes relinquishing her from their gaze.