The steward stepped to the side and bowed his head down. “After you, my lady.”

Arianna walked into the lavish royal dining room, her eyes widening at the pure luxury of the room. She had never been in the room herself, but she'd heard about it. It was rarely used anymore, if at all. She was surprised to find no dust or webs in the shadowy corners.

The room shined to an immaculate sheen. The floor was covered in a large hand-woven rug that spanned the length of the room in maroon and black diamond shapes. The ceiling was white and engraved with gold silhouettes of men with swords, women with baskets or children in their arms. She could have snorted at the blaring inaccuracy. What it should show is men and women drinking out of gold cups, wearing expensive finery, and laughing at the poor.

Two massive chandeliers hung over the incredible long length of the table. Her surveying stopped as she saw who sat at the end of that table.

“Are you quite ready now?” Alrik asked in a low voice.

Arianna took a deep breath and went to her knees, her head bowed. “Your highness, I apologize for being tardy.” She couldn't quite keep the stutter of fear out of her voice.

“Sit down,” he demanded.

Arianna nodded and scooted back to sit on the floor. She kept her eyes squeezed shut, head low as possible, which made her neck protest in pain.

“I meant...in a chair.”

Flushing with embarrassment, she started for a chair. She had to slow her steps though because she was practically running. Two dining places were set. One at the far head of the table where he sat and one right next to him. She swallowed hard as she neared the seat. Protocol stated that he should rise and pull the seat out for her, but he didn't.

Arianna didn't meet his eyes as she went to the back of the chair, grabbed the sides of it, and pulled—it barely moved an inch. Turning her face away from him, she squeezed her eyes shut and clamped her lips tight as she pulled with all her might to move the massive chair.

Suddenly a big, surprisingly warm hand enveloped hers. Her eyes popped open to see his hand touching hers. With a quick pull, he scooted the chair out then sat back in his.

Arianna delicately took her seat, but the chair was pulled out so far that she had to sit at the very edge of the cushion, and even then her hands barely met the table in front of her. Without a word, she sat there; her eyes trained forward on her empty white plate with veining gold etchings on the trim, and folded her hands neatly in her lap.

From the corner of her eyes she watched him. He slouched back in his big throne-like chair, one elbow propped up on the arm with his square chin resting on his fist, eyes watching her with keen interest. His legs were kicked out before him, one knee bent more than the other. He wore black again, not a surprise there. A black jacket with black pants and black leather boots that came up to his knees. Unusual attire for royalty, but not for him.

The silence drew on until she couldn't handle it any longer. “Your highness, I apologize for being late.” She winced as her words held a biting edge to it. She could already see her fate flashing before her eyes—she'd end up like that prisoner she saw the other night, begging for her life after being wrongfully imprisoned.

“You already said that.” His deep voice traveled over the room in a low pitch like a wave. He moved and the candlelight from the chandelier glinted off the metal loop in his lip and eyebrow.

She nodded, clamping her lips shut.

“I...I was under the impression we'd be dining in the banquet hall,” she said quietly, her eyes now studying the design of the empty flute glass next to her plate.

“I wanted us to be alone.”

She swallowed over her raw throat, her hands twined together like she was trying to peel her skin off. “Why?” she whispered.

A soft bell chimed and then a much smaller door than the one she'd entered opened as half a dozen servants came in with trays of food. Arianna sat so straight her neck and back flared in warning as the servants moved around them in harmony, one servant pouring wine into the glasses, and another serving food onto the plates with perfect execution. They left far too quickly for Arianna. Her eyes followed their retreating backs but none of them turned, and even if one had, there was nothing they could do to help.

“Eat,” he ordered.

Arianna grimaced as she eyed her distance from the table. Knowing she couldn't move the chair on her own, she gingerly sat forward to pick up her white linen and lay it across her lap. Then she picked up a gold fork and took a bite of salad. The crunch of the lettuce in her mouth sounded as though it echoed in the quiet room. She swallowed but it felt like swallowing a rock. Her eyes darted over to him to see he hadn't touched his food at all.

Arianna placed her fork down and thought carefully how to word her question. She had to step carefully here or who knew where she'd end up...or what he'd do.

“Your highness—”

“Alrik. You will call me Alrik when we're together.”

Arianna glanced at the massive doors she'd entered with a beseeching glance. Getting her expression back under control, she made her lips pull into a polite smile as she looked back down at her plate.

“Alrik, may I ask why you wanted me to dine with you?”

She held her breath as she waited for him to answer. Eventually though she had to take a breath or she'd die right there sitting next to the king. She told herself not to look, but her curiosity got the better of her, and soon her eyes trailed over the fine table cloth, up his broad chest, and to his eyes.

He watched her.

“I've decided on something that involves you.”

Arianna cringed at the vague answer. Dammit she wanted to crawl over that table and slap him or shake him until he told her what he wanted with her.

When he said nothing more she made herself chew the tasteless salad and drink her wine, at least that wasn't a hardship. She downed her glass without any thought to being polite and taking delicate sips as she should. When the bell chimed again, the servants came out to refill their drinks, remove her half-eaten salad and his untouched one, and serve steaming cuts of meat, potatoes, and vegetables from a golden platter.

As a servant stood between her and the king, Arianna quickly picked up her just-refilled glass of wine and swallowed the entire glass. The servant didn't even bat a lash and refilled the glass without a word.

Arianna's eyes watered as the liquid pushed past her throat like a big ball. She looked away, blinking fast and delicately coughed as quietly as possible. That didn't work, and what started as a little itch in her throat turned into an irresistible scratching.

She kept her head turned away as she coughed—hard, loud. A few tears slid down her face as her head felt like extra air got squeezed inside her skull and lungs. After a good eight, choking coughs, the tickle finally stopped. Gasping, she looked over at the king. Of course he watched her. He probably invited her here tonight to get some kind of secret pleasure over her embarrassment.

“You should drink more slowly.”

A fierce blush blazed across her cheeks. “What is this that involves me?” she said in a hoarse voice.

He finally lifted his head off his chin, only to drum it on the arm rest. Dum, dum, dum, dum.

“Eat,” he ordered.

Arianna closed her eyes to keep from grinding her jaw. With all the grace her mother had taught her, she cut her slice of meat into tiny pieces and ate. The meat tasted like paper, the potatoes tasted like paper, and yet she knew the cream sauce over the meat would normally be delicious and the meat tender and juicy. She took as much as she could before her stomach rolled like she was standing on a boat with too much liquid in her stomach.