Rowena lounges on her chaise, slowly sipping the chilled drink in her hand. Quickly melting ice cubes clink together against the edge of the glass, and a gentle current of air generated by woven fan blow on her face. It’s peaceful.
She smiles as a roaring cheer comes up from the crowd. Her own private terrace from which she watches the arena matches is paved with smooth stones and mosaics and covered with awnings of draped cloth that provide shade to her and her favored guests. It’s removed enough from the rest of the seating to be private and safe, but with the best views of the sandy arena floor below.
Servants offer chilled drinks or sliced fruits in on gold platters. Some wave fans or adjust awnings to keep her and her guests in the shade as they watch the particularly bloody match down below. One lord looks sour, and Rowena knows why. Her champion is beating his into the ground and he can’t say an ill word of it in her presence. She smiles. As it should be.
Pillows are piled on the ground next to her chaise where Vysthrain is sitting, leaned up against it. He tips his head back against her leg. “It’s hot-” A frown clouds his pretty face. “I’m hot.”
“I don’t see how you can be hot Vys”, Rowena says, sitting up slightly and gathering his long long hair into her lap. She starts to separate the strands into three heaps. “Not in what you’re wearing. Just get another drink. The weather isn’t unbearable today.”
Vys sighs and wipes the sweat beading at his forehead. He feels like he’s burning up. Lightheaded too. Maybe one too many drinks. “I think I’ll pass. Maybe slip out a bit early- there was someone I was going to meet. The fight is almost over anyway…”
Rowena tsks and continues playing with his hair. “I’m not finished here yet. You have so much hair, this is going to take me a while. Just sit and relax.”
Vys almost whines, but a sharp jeweled nail on his scalp reminds him that whatever the queen wants, that’s exactly what she gets. So he sits still and stays quiet, watching a fly buzz near the fruits. The faintness doesn’t pass, nor the headache growing behind his eyes. Even his thin breezy clothes feel much too sticky and restraining. It’s too hot for him, he now realizes. Too hot and dry. He licks his lips, wondering now much longer Rowena’s going to take as she lazily braids his long hair.
Finally she pats him on the head. “All finished. Now maybe that will help cool you off a bit.” Her smile is hard to read.
He smiles back in thanks, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thank you your Majesty. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He stands too quickly and almost blacks out, catching himself on a nearby lord. “Oh I’m so sorry”, he purrs, scrambling to recover himself. “I must have had one too many drinks.” He trails a hand down the lord’s chest and grins. “Now please excuse me, I had to be somewhere ten minutes ago.”
He quickly turns and hurries out the arched doorway and into the halls connecting the stifling hot hallway that will take him back to the palace. The heat is overbearing, too much for him. Fae aren’t meant for such conditions.
Vys gasps for air as he leans on the wall and tries to think straight. He needs to get back to his rooms. The bath is cold there, it should help. Groaning, he starts down the hall again, the floor swimming in his vision. He’s not going to make it to his own room. But there’s a locker room near here, for the guards, with showers that he know’s how to get to quite well. He might be able to reach that.
He stumbles forward until he finds the door and flings it open, grateful there’s no one currently here. Vys’ hands shake as he opens the valve to turn the shower on and sinks down, letting his forehead rest against his knees as the water sprays down on him. It comes out warm, but cools the longer its on. Water drips down his back and shoulders, slowly cooling his overheated body. Rowena knew exactly what she was doing when she kept him there longer, didn’t she.
