Free Annatrice of Cayborne by Jonathan Davison Page B

and humiliating him as he had done to her father but sometimes, the searing heat of a molten poker or the icy nip of a secreted dagger might have done the trick. At the end of the day, it was a question of what Annatrice wanted to do with her life and whether she felt it necessary to lose it in the pursuit of this foul being. If she did choose to sacrifice herself in such a manner, would that not count as a victory to Tragian whether he be dead or not?
    The feast was held in the Royal Court. It was the grandiose chamber that Annatrice had once set foot in during in her first days there but not since. The resplendent ruby red carpets and the ugly raised throne were the most memorable aspect followed by the high ceiling, the decorative fabrics and the raging log fire as its centrepiece. As ever before a more public event, the ladies were addressed by a senior court official who laid down a set of rules which must be adhered to. It was always clear to Annatrice that the women were decorative items and not for interaction. Any talk of the King or his affairs was punishable in the most severe terms and it was noted that they were being observed at all times. The ominous tones of the official who looked pompous in his long white socks and wig did little to inspire a feeling of merriment, but the ladies had become used to this ritual. They knew where the boundaries lie and indeed when not to cross them.
    Annatrice stood with Lehona in the corner at the end of the absurdly lengthy table, filled with delicacies from across the land. The room hummed with idle chatter and a piper filled the air with tinctures of melody, almost lost however under the guffaws of laughter. In the chamber, men and women of nobility arched their backs in humorous engagement, especially when the Regis made merry. It seemed a courtesy to laugh even at the most innocuous statement and watching the tiresome kissing of their King's rear quarters sent Annatrice into a funk that she remained in even with the best attempts of her friend to lighten her mood. Small groups of colourfully attired men pranced around the room like mating birds and Annatrice wondered why noblemen were all so camp and thoroughly unattractive. Where were the more rugged and robust men who commanded respect from their wives and put a blush on their cheeks with feats of prowess and courage?
    Lehona wandered off to engage with some of the other girls who were dancing under the watchful gaze of a gaggle of young men and Annatrice leaned back against the carved stone column, kicking her heel up and folding her arms.
    “Fair maiden, tarry with me pray?”
    A voice from beside her caught her unawares, her mind filled with darker thoughts.
    “Huh?” She said, bored of the pompous small talk of the well groomed nobles.
    “Ah forgive me, I did not wish to raise my voice in your illustrious company, but the room resounds with the most abhorrent noise.”
    Annatrice's top lip curled at the poetic but unoriginal and thoroughly uninspiring speak. Her admirer was a man old enough to exhibit a wisp of grey above his ears but young enough to wear a dark, trimmed moustache. He wore a jacket of green trimmed with gilded threads and tight fitting pearl white britches. He was the embodiment of nobility, a strutting self obsessed fop or so Annatrice thought.
    “Yeah, what do you want?” Annatrice amused herself with her most common of inquiries, her gruffness a warning for all to see.
    “Apologies my lady if I have offended thee, I sought only to bask in the radiance of beauty. I shall retire if that is your wish?”
    Annatrice looked up at the man who was clearly distressed at being rebuked in such harsh terms. She smiled and once again amused herself at the situation. Male company was so lacking yet she had almost spurned the opportunity to analyse what it is to be a noble man in Tragian's kingdom. Looking down at the array of cuisine, she plucked a small egg from an intricately carved wooden bowl and