Joyful music filled the air in the ballroom, and the endless flow of noble lords and ladies twirled about in a graceful dance. From where she stood on the balcony overlooking it all, Jannali could see how hard the violinists were working to keep up with the conductor's demands. Their glamours made it all seem effortless, but she peered hard enough, she could see the furrows of their brows and the sheens of sweat as they fiddled away. She took a sip of her drink. Boredom had already settled into every one of her bones—what other reason would she have to aimlessly critique the musicians?
She brushed back a lock of her silver hair. Marrok was most likely dancing with some court lady, again, like always—and, like always, she backed away from the dance floor, tired of being swept into the arms of perverted men. She swirled her drink. Outside, she could also see Channary playing out on the terrace with a couple other girls. They laughed and twirled and chattered amongst themselves. The crown princess wasn't being a terror for once. Levana was put to bed before the party even began; the king made sure of it. He didn't really trust the baby in the care of anyone other than her parents. Jannali, for her part, couldn't really care less. She was sleeping. What did it matter, who was attending to her?
The music dipped into something more somber, building in intensity. The dancers switched partners and began to match the instrumental tone, their steps becoming daring and menacing. To a commoner, it would've been quite the sight to behold, but Jannali had grown bored of these dances by the time she was fourteen. Nothing much has changed those past ten years. She began to contemplate retiring early for bed; all she had to do was feign a headache, and the courtiers would dismiss their boring little queen without a fuss...
"Your Majesty?"
Jannali's fists clenched around the stem of her glass. The voice wasn't a meek whisper belonging to a servant, but a deep, confident sound that could only come from a nobleman. She said nothing.
The man quickly cleared his throat, realizing his mistake. "I hope I am not being a bother, My Queen. I've simply noticed you alone here, and thought that you might appreciate the company."
Jannali pursed her lips. "I am oftentimes alone, Milord. What makes this so different?"
"It's a sin that a lovely woman such as you be kept away from any party." He bowed. "Allow me to introduce myself; I am Lord Nolan Mavelin. You may know my cousin—she works often with His Majesty."
He couldn't see it beneath her glamour, but Jannali gently slipped a hand under her skirt and fingered the sealed metal tube strapped to her thigh. A deadly combination of arsenic and regolith dust, it was intended to melt the consumer's lungs and leave their faces a ghastly shade of blue. Jannali was planning to slip it into a noble's drink before she stole away to bed. Perhaps those plans would change.
"Go on," she sighed, releasing her skirt. The fabric fluttered to the floor in a sea of lace. Nolan seemed to notice this—there was a subtle glint in his eye. Jannali had seen this a thousand times before. She knew exactly what his intentions were. She nearly licked her lips. All cleaned up before her, ready to slaughter, was a pretty, pretty prospect. Better than the queen had even hoped for.
"My Queen..." He tucked his black hair behind his ear. His skin, pale beyond belief, held a red tint. He was a blushing one, then. "Do you know just how heart-breakingly beautiful you are tonight?"
Jannali nearly doubled over in laughter. It wasn't the most insincere, over-the-top flattery that she had ever heard, but something about it was just teeming with cheese and hilarity. Instead, she looked down and batted her lashes. Shifted her posture. Became vulnerable and delicate, with her porcelain glamour and intoxicating purple eyes. Come, fishy fishy...
"You don't mean that," she whispered. The straps of her gown slid down her shoulders ever-so-slightly.
"I mean every word I say to you," Nolan reassured her. "I have been admiring you for some time, Your Majesty. The king doesn't realize how lucky he is to be married to such a goddess."
"His Majesty has no obligations towards me. I am nowhere near worthy of his affections."
Nolan's face turned downcast. "He is nowhere near worthy of you."
Jannali glamoured a blush. "Lord Mavelin, such talk of your king..."
"Do you not agree with me? He never spends time with you. I've noticed, the entire court has noticed. He is not..." He eyed the queen warily, to see if he was going too far. Jannali gave nothing away. Satisfied, he continued. "He is, frankly, a sorry excuse for a man."
She set her glass on the railing. "You're right. I've never told anyone of my feelings towards him, but...I think he is abominable. Always consorting with those women...and leaving me behind. Understand, Lord, that I have no right to say such things about him."
"A shame, really. He deserves every bit of slander he receives."
Jannali put a hand to her chest, smiling. "You say that you have admired me, do you?"
"For years," said Nolan, his eyes gleaming. His gaze swept across her glamoured body. "I don't want you to be so alone anymore. I would give anything to be in your company."
"The king doesn't care about what I do. But I don't want to give myself to a man who would treat me the same way—enjoy me once and run away."
Nolan took her hand and kissed it. "I would never do that to you...Jannali." His voice became husky as her name left his lips. When she didn't reprimand him, he put her hand to his chest. "I would listen to anything you have to say, and you can remove your glamour before me; I bet you're even more beautiful beneath it."
Jannali laughed. "Would you like to find out?"
The man gleamed and put a hand to her cheek. She melted into him, her lips parted. "My beautiful Jannali..."
She closed her eyes and let her glamour dissipate, revealing her soft skin, wavy hair, gleaming smile, fit body...Nolan ate it up instantly. His lust was plain for anyone to see. She leaned closer to him, and he put a hand to her waist. "Shall I see you again, My Queen?"
"One of these nights..." she whispered, "come to my chambers in secret. We can be together until morning with some champagne and chocolate. I'm so tired of being alone."
"Anything," he sighed again. Jannali's heart pounded in her chest. He was falling for it so well; this came as no surprise, but this time, she had special plans for her prospect. She had every intention of stringing him along. "I promise that I will not disappoint you," he said.
"You are too much, Milord. It's so refreshing..." She twirled a lock of chestnut hair around her finger. Her heaving breasts had caught his attention. The look of desire meant he was walking deeper and deeper into her trap, just as she expected.
"I'll show you so many things you have never known..." he kissed her cheek. "So much more than he ever could. Such pleasure, such intensity—I don't even think His Majesty knows that exists."
Jannali brushed him away slightly. She knew that Marrok would be delighted to hear that. "On point, again. I know you won't leave me cold and dissatisfied." She pulled up her glamour with a smile. As she walked away, she left him swept up in her perfume.
A gasp escaped her as she felt him catch her wrist. She turned to see his eyes burning with passion and want. "I look forward to seeing you again, Jannali."
"As do I," she crooned.
It was so out of the moment, so unexpected, that she didn't think to even stop him as he brought his face to hers and began kissing her passionately. His arms wound themselves around her waist, her hips, pressing her body against his. She stayed frozen, her boredom intensifying during his kisses. Nothing about it was hot or attractive. Nothing about it aroused her.
She broke the kiss suddenly. In the far corner of the balcony, opposite from where Nolan had walked up, there was someone lurking behind the wall. She turned to him, her gaze tender. "Farewell, Milord."
He walked away in a trance, a stupid grin plastered onto his face. As soon as he was out of sight, Jannali sighed and dropped her glamour again. "Marrok, stop hiding."
The king, frowning, stalked out from the dark hallway into the light. His crimson uniform shone with a sleek black sash and silver tassels. "Might I ask what you were doing just now?"
She rolled her eyes.
"Why were you kissing him?"
He seemed...nearly hurt, if Jannali dared say it. "Marrok, don't—"
"Is there something I should know about? Am I really that neglectful to you?"
"He's a prospect." She slinkered over to him and wrapped herself in his arms. "I'm having fun with him, is all. You should too."
He quirked an eyebrow. "Me? What do I have to do with a slimy bastard who wants to steal my wife?"
"You speak as if I'm something to be owned." Jannali clucked her tongue.
"Don't be like that with me." Marrok brought her close to him, so close that their noses were nearly touching. "What do you have planned?"
Jannali gasped as his lips came to her neck. His warm breath tickled her skin, and she felt heat broiling up in her core. "I-I..." She brought his head closer to her chest, and he began to pepper her collarbone with kisses. "I want to kill—Ah!"
He groaned as his hands came to fondle her chest. The two moved away from the railing, and by consequence, the sights of the partygoers. Alone in the dark corridor, he backed her up against the wall, their bodies intertwined in the most lewd way. They kissed deeply, moans and whimpers of pleasure filling the air.
"So I leave you cold, huh?" Marrok hissed, sucking on her earlobe.
"You heard what he..." Jannali gasped, "what he said?"
"Every word." The king's hands roamed over her waist, her hips, under her skirts...
Jannali threw her head back and moaned. "Do I feel cold to you?" She buried her fingers in his hair. "You make me feel like I'm...like I'm about to burst..."
He didn't seem satisfied. The two inched down the hallway until they stumbled into one of the 'company rooms'; once inside, Marrok was quick to lock the door and free himself of his confining jacket. They were like hormonal teenagers—their thirst unquenchable, their lust insatiable. No one came to interrupt them, and it must've been well past midnight before they finally broke apart. They struggled to catch their breath as they lay snuggled in a stray blanket, hiding their nudity. At some point during their passion, they had fallen off the bed onto the hard floor.
"You were saying?" Marrok sighed, gently untangling her hair. Jannali, cuddled against his chest, smiled brightly.
"I want to play him around. Make him think that he's seduced me. Then we can kill him together." She wrapped his arm around her waist. "Doesn't that sound like fun?"
Marrok kissed the crown of her head. They remained like that, in each other's arms, until Jannali made them both realize that the nanny was probably wondering where they were. The entire court too—who knows how long it's been since they noticed Marrok's disappearance.
Having already wrapped herself back in her gown, Jannali perched herself atop of the bed and leered at Marrok's scarred back as he got dressed. She was beaming; her husband was back. Passionate, cruel, sadistic...the man hadn't been present in a while. And all it took was raging jealousy to bring him out. Perhaps she needed to go around kissing courtiers more often.
"Promise me one thing, though." Marrok turned to face her, his coat slung of his shoulder. "Don't kiss him again."
Jannali pouted. "Aw, is His Majesty jealous?"
"I don't want a prospect touching you."
"True, true," Jannali chided. "Don't worry your pretty little head, darling. I don't want anyone but you."
Marrok held out a hand. She accepted it with a smile. "And there is no other woman in this world that can earn my love...all except you."
Jannali's heart lurched. Love. "Yes, indeed."
