Chapter 208 TEIGEN XXXII
Every word that slipped out of her plum lips sent shockwaves throughout my form. I stole her first kiss?
She was bearing herself for me, letting me see her unprotected, letting me see her raw vulnerability. Her hand that had remained on my wrist began to slowly make it's way to my hands, her bare fingers grazing my gloved ones. Suddenly I was reminded of the reason I kept my distance.
She wanted me now, but what would she do when she realises what I truly was? I pull back, turning away from her.
"We can never work. Your feelings will fade, you will marry someone of your standing. Do not let me cloud your better judgement my lady"
Elara inhales a sharp breath, tears brimming her eyes. Pain shot through me, making it hard for me to breathe. Another rejection. I bit viciously against my lower lip, willing my tears not to fall.
"I-i will leave first, you come after me"
Elara chokes down her emotions,hurt and walks off the terace. I groan, running a hand through my hair in distress.
Unbeknownst to the two, another pair of ears had been a witness to the scene. Listening from behind the large terrace doors, he takes note of Elara walking out, a whimper escaping her. Soon after Ryker followed, in an attempt to be discreet. He smiles, knowing that his suspicion was right, now it was time to take action.
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The guests, completely unaware of the growing tension watched the two return to the party.
Winnie and Philippa watched Elara and Ryker as they parted way after taking the steps down, their countenance was different.
"If I did not know better, I would say Lady Elara and Sir Ryker look like something is going on between them" Winnie observes, her speculations so close.
"Something like what?" Philippa asks, her eyes following Elara as she walks over to the desert table.
"Something romantic, like a love affair" Winnie whispers, her words earning a surprised gasp from Camilla who just joined the two.
Camilla upon eavesdropping had heard everything, "Not too loud Winnie, you are in public"
"Good thing you do not know better then. Lady Elara is of much higher standing, she would never sully the Grand Duke's name by getting involved with a simple low ranking knight" Philippa states firmly.
Every action of Elara's reflected on the Grand Dike whether she liked it or not, this also included her choice of a husband. He had to match up to their status to be seen as worthy enough to marry the daughter of the only Grand Duke.
"Philippa is right Winnie" Camilla chimes in, seeing reason in Philippa's strong point.
It was true, after all Lord Sawyer had displayed obvious interest in their Lady Elara.
"Our Lady will marry Lord Sawyer, the Duke already approves of the match"
"Really?" Camilla and Winnie exclaim in unison.
"Yes, he is insisting the two spend this time together so Elara will have a chance to get to like the Lord Sawyer. After the mating season he will publicly announce their alliance"
Camilla and Winnie exchanges surprised glances, wondering how Philippa knew so much about this.
Amidst the verdant lists, where valorous knights didst gather, a grand tournament unfolded, like a tapestry to ponder.
The sun cast its golden rays upon the scene, as nobles, knights, and commoners congregated, their spirits serene. The air was alive with anticipation, a symphony of delight, as heralds trumpeted the arrival of the competitors, a majestic sight.
The crowd's murmurs swelled to cheers, a deafening crescendo. The knights, resplendent in armor, rode forth, their banners to show.
I as the lady of the tournament, stood poised, a gentle smile to bless the knights, and grant them fortune, in this test of skill and guile. With a delicate touch, I bestowed a favor, a token of esteem, a scarf, a flower, or a ribbon, to bind their hearts, and seal their dream. When I had heard I was to be the lady of the tournament I had to express my distaste for the sport to Augustine, but never to father. I could never oppose father, I could only grumble, shead a few tears but never argue. Being the lady of the tournament Lord Sawyer organized meant something entirely apart from just happening to be chosen, no it meant we were engaged. No ordinary female was named the lady. Bitterness filled my veins as I sat in the shade, my ladies to my side, enjoying the pageantry as all the knights had flocked to me, waiting for my blessings.
In all honesty I gave them my sympathy, for they were not here to display skill. They were here to loose to Lord Sawyer and the other much higher Lords and noblemen, these games were a display of bravery, dominance and an exertion of power over the weaker species or werepeople. The knights knew to never fully challenge the lords, especially the Lord of the tournament. This was all a charade, the winner was predetermined, prepared. All the knights had their orders. Loose to the Lord, make a good show, make the Lord look all mighty.
My presence here just further cemented his status.
Lord Sawyer came forth, and with a very pretentious, sweet smile I tied my ribbon to his lance and the crowd roared. He picked my hand after I had finished, placing a quick kiss to my knuckles in front of everyone.
I flushed, my wide eyes meeting Ryker's. He sat in the pew opposite mine, refusing to accompany my entourage under our private umbrella.
The jousters, with lances in hand, charged forth, their steeds aflight. Their armor glinting, like stars, in the sunlight's radiant light. The crash of wood, the thunder of hooves, the crowd's ecstatic roar. As the knights clashed, their valor and prowess, forever to adore by the crowd. In this fleeting moment, the weight of tradition, and the fire of desire, to see these noble knights, their honor, and their hearts, set on high, like a burning pyre.
For in this medieval spectacle, we found a glimpse of chivalry's golden age. What was supposed to be a testament to courage, loyalty, and the unyielding pursuit of honor's stage.
Lord Sawyer stood tall, challenging the last surviving knight. Lord Sawyer and the knight on opposite sides of the list, charged towards each other in quick speed on horseback. The horses hooves pounding against the ground, the dust from the jousting arena rising lazily into the air, creating a dusty fog around them.