Conquering the Queen by Ava Sinclair Page B

The gown was a pale green shot through with golden threads. The scooped neck accentuated the collar, but also the swell of her perfect breasts. The maid was right; this was a dress meant for royalty.
    When Xander came to take her to the dining hall, she was still filled with dread, however. Even if she looked every inch a queen, she was still a slave. Humbling herself in the privacy of her own chamber to the man she loved was one thing. Humbling herself in the presence of his spiteful father was another.
    Xander seemed to recognize this, for he knew Avin had never cared for Lord Reginald. And he knew that his father still hated her. Before they left the room, he sought to reassure her.
    “Focus on me,” he said. “I am king, not my father. It will be easier if you do.”
    “Easy?” she said. “It would be easier were I not wearing my crown as a collar. I so wish it to be removed.”
    He hugged her to him, a quiet moment of affection that felt as soothing as their passion did raw.
    “I understand,” he said, and stepped back, sadness on his handsome features. “In another time it could have been so. But the fracture is too deep now for either of our people to accept that.”
    She nodded. Since Xander had reclaimed her, Avin had done nothing but reflect on all that had happened. The unfreezing of her heart had also opened her mind, and Avin, who was intelligent, realized there was more than superstition behind her former subjects’ animosity. Yes, she had tried to do what was right, but from the perspective of her people she’d seemed remote and detached. She wished now she’d not shut herself off. Perhaps some warmth would have encouraged camaraderie during their harsh winter. Instead she’d focused on protection above all else, an extension of her self-preservation. She considered what she now had to do as penance necessary to heal her people. Even if she was no longer queen, she could still make a queenly sacrifice.
    The hall fell silent as the new king entered with his slave, the former queen. Xander had attached a gold chain to her collar, and she followed him, expressionless, to his seat.
    “Are you sure you want her here?” asked Lord Reginald when he saw his son pull out a chair beside his. The first course hadn’t even been served, and Avin could see he was already in his cups. “I see more fit company for her over there!”
    Some of the lords and ladies at the table laughed as Xander’s father gestured toward the large fireplace, where a number of wolfhounds were patiently waiting to be tossed bones from the table.
    Avin eyed the knife sticking from a joint of beef and imagined plunging it into Lord Reginald’s heart.
    “You dare smile?” The old lord had noticed the smirk she’d been unable to hide.
    “She smiles to be at the side of her master.” Xander tugged the leash and, unseen, gripped Avin’s hand reassuringly. “She is in training, Father, and will sit by my side and be fed by my hand.”
    He took his seat. The room was silent now, and feeling so many eyes on her was harder even than walking through the streets. The villagers had been but her subjects; these people had once been her peers.
    “I’ll try to save you some scraps,” Lord Reginald said. “As a gesture of good will.”
    The room erupted into laughter once more, and Avin looked up to see Xander’s face a mask of anger. His father, sitting further down the table, did not seem to notice. He was holding his wine cup out for another refill as he began to talk loudly about the state of the castle when they overtook it.
    “Filth,” he said. “Unbelievable filth. Only the queen’s chamber was decent, but that was where she took lavish meals and counted her gold as her own people starved outside.”
    Avin felt her face grow red with anger. None of it was true. She looked up at Xander, whose expression matched hers.
    “Father!” Xander’s voice boomed throughout the hall. The older man stopped talking and looked at his