Chapter Twenty-Four
The Woodlands Fort buzzes with preparations for the Winter Ball. Despite my reservations, it’s hard not to get swept up in the excitement. Shortly after lunch, Elswyth arrives with some clothing options for me to choose from.
“You’re about the same size as me,” she says, laying the outfits on the bed. “So something here should work.”
She’s brought two stunning green dresses, one accented with gold and the other with bronze, along with a pair of soft leather leggings that coordinate with an embroidered green leather vest worn with a fitted white shirt underneath.
“Why the pants?”
“Because it honors the hunt. Some prefer to wear a formal version of their hunting attire, though a dress is appropriate for the occasion too.”
“I’ve never hunted anything,” I say. Though Tristan and my father would catch game to feed us, I never had the chance to learn the skill myself.
Elswyth laughs. “That’s hardly the point. It’s tradition for everyone, whether they’ve ever shot an arrow or not. It’s about the spirit of it.”
Her eyes twinkle brightly.
“Well then, definitely the hunting clothes.”
“Perfect. They’ll look amazing on you.”
She leaves me to dress, and I pull on the leggings, which slide like butter against my skin; the shirt; and the vest, which laces up the front with gold ribbons. She also leaves me a wide belt in a darker shade of green to wear around my hips and a pair of tall suede boots that come up to my knees. The ensemble is completed with an ornately jeweled dagger worn in a sheath around my thigh. I pull it out and test the razor-sharp edge.
I then curl my hair, tie it up at the back of my head, and finish off with some of the makeup the queen also left, including a sweep of green eyeshadow.
As I stare in the mirror, I consider the various threads of fate’s hand leading me to this spot.
Maybe it was my mother’s influence or the fact that it was lost, but I’ve always considered Heart to be my true home. The abandoned castle had always been her dream and her goal for us. Though she’d never lived there, it had lived in the essence of her thoughts.
But this place is a part of me too. My father and grandfather were both from The Woodlands. That blood flows in our veins, and Tristan bears its magic.
Could I forge the same alliance with The Woodlands intended by my grandparents?
I wonder who carries the title of their Primary and make a mental note to ask. Cedar and Elswyth have no heirs, so is it someone else?
A knock sounds at the door, and I walk over to find Tristan waiting on the other side. We haven’t had a chance to discuss our conversation with the king and queen last night, but I’m sure he must be harboring many of the same questions.
“How are you?” he asks as I invite him in.
He looks so handsome in an outfit similar to mine, brown leggings and a green tunic with a brown leather vest, his dark hair hanging shaggy around his pointed ears. Like me, he’s lost that gaunt edge of hunger, filling out into the man he was always meant to be.
“What did you think about everything they said last night?” he asks.
I sit across from where he’s taken a seat, sliding my hands under my thighs. “I want to believe what they said about not knowing where we’d gone. They seemed genuinely remorseful.”
Tristan nods. “I agree. They did, and I’d like to believe them too.”
“But?”
“But we’re right to always be on our guard. There’s so much at stake here, and we don’t really know who our allies are.”
I nod at that, conceding he’s right. I wish we lived in a world where we could trust the people around us. But maybe being of royal blood means that was never an option.
“What he said about supporting me,” I say. “That felt like something one just doesn’t say unless they really mean it.”
“You’re probably right. But still, we can’t afford to go blindly into any of this.”
“I know.”
“Have you given any more thought to what Elswyth said about not finding our parents’ bodies?” Tristan asks, peering at me through his thick, dark lashes. I can read everything on his face, but I can’t let him wander down that perilous train of thought.
“Tris, no. If Mother were alive, I wouldn’t be the Primary, right? They took them or buried them or did something else I can’t even bear to think about,” I say. “Don’t do this to yourself. They’re gone.”
His jaw tics, and his gaze flicks to the window before it turns to me. I see the shine in his eyes, and I know how much he wants this. He remembers them better than either Willow or I do, but entertaining this hope will only lead to disappointment and even more heartbreak. I learned to live with their deaths once, and I don’t think I can do it again.
“If they were alive, they would have come for us,” I say with certainty. “Nothing would have stopped them.”
“What if they couldn’t?”
I shake my head. “They would have found a way.”
Tristan’s shoulders drop, and he lets out a whoosh of air. “I just thought…”
“I know. Trust me, I thought it too. But it’s impossible.”
I’m not as confident as I’m pretending to be, because I also want it to be true, but I won’t let him do this to himself. We spent enough years conjuring up fantasies of vengeance and what our futures would be like with only Willow to keep us in check. Free from the walls of Nostraza, we have to focus on what’s in front of us. We can’t afford to lose ourselves inside daydreams that will only serve to distract us.
Tristan looks down at the floor and waits for a moment before sitting back up. He slaps his thighs and stands, trying to put on what I know is a brave face. “Then I guess we have a party to get to.”
Still, his expression remains tight, the lines around his mouth and eyes tense, but he turns away before I can say anything else.
I get up to follow him, and we head through the Fort, directed by various palace servants. There are low fae everywhere I look, some working in positions of service, but many are also dressed for the party. I spy a pair of delicate-looking nymphs wearing green velvet dresses with golden antlers sprouting from their heads.
We enter a massive hall graced by a curved wooden ceiling that rises high over our heads with gold ribs running across its length. The walls and the floor are all made of various shades of wood inlaid with green enamel carved into leaves. Above us, hundreds of tiny golden lights zip about the room, and it takes me a moment to realize they’re actually lightning bugs. They bounce around, racing past the guests before they zoom away. The sight is beyond captivating.
A long table bisecting the room is covered with food, including a giant chocolate fountain and several ice sculptures shaved into various animal shapes—a deer, a bear, and an owl.
The wine flows and guests circulate around the food before they settle at rows of tables arranged along the walls.
We pass through the crowd, marveling at everything. When my gaze meets Tristan’s, we both share a moment of disbelief. It’s so hard to comprehend that a few months ago, we were both living deep in the bowels of a hellhole, and now we’re here, surrounded by music and laughter.
I wonder how long this feeling of living on the edge of nothing will persist. When will this feel solid and not like an illusion about to be pulled out from under us?
The far end of the hall opens into a wide space where couples dance, spinning in circles to the strains of an entire orchestra outfitted in green and bronze. Beyond that is a long dais where the king and queen sit. Nadir, Etienne, and Mael are already at the front.
Nadir lounges next to Cedar, one leg casually slung over the other, chatting with the king. He looks up as I approach, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that makes my knees weak.
Suddenly, I want nothing more than to be alone with him as pressure expands in my chest. The words perch on my tongue, waiting to release and set off what I’m sure will be a chain reaction that marks a permanent alteration in the course of our lives.
My magic surges under my skin, battering me to the point of bruising. It refuses to stay away from him for much longer.
His head tilts, his expression probing, and I realize that I’ve been staring again. How long have I been standing here? By the skeptical look Tristan is giving me, it’s been way too long not to be weird.
“You all right?” he asks, and I nod.
Sure. Not really.
Throwing my shoulders back, I approach the dais and bend at the waist in greeting to the king and queen. They stand and return my bow.
My gaze returns to Nadir, who’s wearing his usual black, though it’s obviously not the same blood-covered clothing he arrived in.
“How on earth did you manage to find the only black clothing in the entire kingdom?” I ask, and he smirks.
“I have so many secrets, Lor.”
I roll my eyes as Cedar and Elswyth both embrace me warmly. It’s so… cozy.
I really want to trust that these Imperial Fae have our best interests at heart. They’re our family. They know our secrets and say they’ll keep them. I’m going to need all the allies I can find. Even if this weren’t about seizing my crown, I want a family. I want the comfort and safety of people who love us.
More importantly, I want that for Tristan and Willow.
A server approaches with a silver tray balanced on her hand and offers us all a drink. I pick up a small crystal glass filled with pale lilac liquid.
“The best Noma Violetta we have in our cellar,” Cedar says, proudly gesturing to my cup. “It packs a punch, though.”
I smile and take a sip that is both sweet and bitter and melts pleasantly through my limbs. I roll my shoulders, enjoying the sensation and deciding that I’m going to dance a lot tonight.
The current song comes to an end, the final notes echoing in the room as every eye turns to the front. Cedar and Elswyth stand with their hands clasped. They raise their free arms and then bow to the watching crowd.
“Welcome!” Cedar says, his deep voice booming through the hall. “As winter comes upon us again, let us all gather to celebrate the changing of the season. Our stores are full, and there is food to last us through the season. So please, drink up, have fun, and enjoy tonight!”
A chorus of cheers circulates through the crowd, and then Cedar and Elswyth sweep forward on smooth steps to the center of the dance floor. The music starts up again as they begin twirling before dozens more couples join them.
Over the next hour, I lose myself in the exuberance and the careless ease of people without too much on their minds. I’ve tried one of everything on the massive food table—it all tastes even better than it looks. Venison tartare with a raspberry reduction. Wild boar rosemary paté. Forest mushroom toasts spread with goat cheese and honey.
I make another mental note to travel across Ouranos solely to taste the foods in every region. I wonder what delicacies they eat in the star queendom of Celestria. Moonbeam pie, perhaps?
Eventually, I find myself seated next to Elswyth as we watch the dancers swirling around the room.
“Are you having fun?” she asks.
“I am.”
“I’m so glad you could stay for tonight.”
I smile, my gaze circulating through the crowd, finding Nadir on the far side of the room. He’s talking with Mael and a male Woodlands Fae.
I study him, appreciating every line of his shoulders and arms. The way his biceps swell against the black fabric. The narrow taper of his waist and the curve of his strong thighs. His face is my favorite, though. Those burning eyes that hide nothing from me. The way that eyebrow arches in a way that pisses me off but also makes me want to fall to my knees. That mouth capable of such biting wit and the filthy words that keep me awake and restless at night.
He’s my challenge and my summit, and I am being tested in the deepest possible way.
The man whose father killed my parents is my fated mate, destined by Zerra. Who has apparently been made for me. That’s no surprise, though. I think I knew that from the moment I threw my champagne at him.
I have only two choices before me now.
“Lor?”
I turn to the sound of my name, finding Elswyth watching me, a knowing smile on her face.
Gods. I was staring at him again.
“Yes?” I ask.
“I was wondering if you wanted more wine?”
I look down at my empty glass. Yes. I’ll take the whole bottle.
“Sure.” I get up to join her, refilling our glasses before we toast. We chat for a few more minutes before she excuses herself to tend to her queenly duties.
After she leaves, I consider going for another round at the food table just as my gaze tapers to a knife-sharp point.
Nadir is no longer with Mael. He’s now talking to a gorgeous High Fae female with luscious curling brown hair wearing an outfit similar to mine. They’re both leaning against the wall, standing far too close for my liking. Is he fucking flirting again?
I consider creating a distraction to break them apart. Maybe I’ll light the tablecloth on fire or shove someone into the chocolate fountain. Cedar and Elswyth have been lovely, though, and don’t deserve to have their party ruined because the Aurora Prince can’t keep his dick in his pants.
Inexplicably, Nadir is also wearing a soft blue scarf over his shoulders, and I have no idea where that came from. The woman reaches out to touch his arm, her fingers wrapping around his firm biceps as she laughs, and that’s when my vision turns crimson.
My fingers dig into my palms as I physically restrain myself from walking over and tearing off her arm.
He’s not mine.
Fuck that. He is mine.
A few weeks ago, I said I didn’t want to belong to anyone. I hated him and his father and everything they represented. But I know that isn’t true anymore. The father, yes, but my feelings for the son are so much more layered than that.
But all I’ve done is push him away. Have I broken everything that might have come between us? Am I too late?
I wonder what that growling sound is and then realize it’s me. I spin around to avoid facing them and take a deep breath that does nothing to settle the thrumming pulse of my current self-loathing.
An elf passes by, holding a basket over her arm filled with soft blue scarves like the one Nadir is wearing. She waves one about as an offering. A High Fae female with red hair and a long green dress snatches it from her and then drapes it over her shoulders with a giggle before she scurries off.
“What are those?” I ask the elf. She has pale green skin and soft pink hair to go with her large, pointed ears.
She smiles and pulls another one from her basket. “It’s a Winter’s Kiss scarf.” There’s a coy look on her face that suggests it’s more than just a fashion accessory. I rub the fabric between my fingers. It’s made of incredibly fine wool and might be the softest thing I’ve ever felt.
“What does it mean?”
She leans in closer with a sparkle in her eyes. “Eligible women take one and place it over the shoulders of someone they’d like a kiss from.”
She grins and then winks.
Well, that sounds a little archaic and more than a little sexist, but given how many blue scarves I now notice draped over various shoulders, it’s obviously a popular tradition.
When I catch sight of Nadir from the corner of my eye, wearing a fucking Winter’s Kiss scarf, my rage twists into a pellet hard enough to crack a rib. Who gave that to him? I can only presume it’s the woman who is still touching him.
Fine, two of us can play this game, and I have never ever backed down from a challenge.
“Can I have this?” I ask, and she nods.
“Of course. Enjoy.” Then she gives me an airy wave and saunters off. I drape the scarf over my shoulders and search for a target. Someone devastatingly hot and sexy and really fucking tall. With good hair and a nice firm ass.
Nadir is still talking to the same woman, his gaze focused on her, and I grind my teeth so hard I swear the enamel begins to shear away.
I circle the large table, and thankfully, it doesn’t take long before a very handsome and very tall High Fae male intercepts me.
“Hi there,” he says, eyeing my scarf and then me. “I’m Declan. Who might you be?”
I flash him my most beaming smile, hoping I don’t look like a lunatic. I can’t say I have much experience flirting, but I’ve always managed well enough. Of course, most of the men I’ve tried to woo were confined to prison and didn’t have too many options, but I try not to let that bother me.
He really is very nice to look at, with dark blond hair and bright green eyes that sparkle in the candlelight.
“I’m Lor,” I say. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“I haven’t seen you in the Fort before. Where did you come from?”
“Oh, I’m a very distant relation to the royal family. Just passing through, and Cedar insisted we stay for the night.”
He grins and then leans down. “You’re not secretly a princess, are you?”
My answering laugh is a little awkward, but I don’t think he notices. I can tell he’s teasing me, but he has no idea how close to the truth he is.
“Hmm, perhaps you’ll find out if you’re good.”
His eyes glitter at that, his gaze again falling on the scarf for the briefest moment, and this is kind of fun. Maybe I’m not so bad at this.
Everything in me resists the urge to look at Nadir, but I can’t help myself, and allow my gaze to wander for a fraction of a second before I pull it back. A swell of triumph sticks in my throat when I find him glaring at me, his eyes burning like the very fires of hell.
I immediately turn away and look up at Declan, stepping closer and placing a hand in the center of his chest. It’s firm and sculpted, and I could do a lot worse.
“Would you like to dance?” I ask, and he nods.
“Absolutely.”
He leads me to the dance floor and twirls me around. I don’t really know what I’m doing, but he manages to make it feel like I’m keeping up. I try not to look at Nadir whenever we spin around the room. I attempt to shut Nadir out because I’m actually having fun.
After a few breathless reels, Declan leads me to the edge of the dance floor.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asks and then leads me to a table that puts me in direct line of sight with Nadir, who is now sitting on the other side of the room. His “friend” is leaning into him and laughing, and how long does he plan to talk to her? What could she possibly be saying that is so fucking interesting?
His gaze meets mine, and I know I’m winning. I’m just not sure what I’ve won yet. It’s a wonder every single person in the room isn’t suffocating under our seething animosity, which expands to fill every corner.
Declan returns with the promised glass of wine. He hands it to me before he pulls out a chair and sits. I cast another quick glance at Nadir and decide I’m raising the stakes so high they’ll become a black dot disappearing into the sky.
I place my glass on the table and then slide onto Declan’s lap before wrapping my scarf around the back of his neck and leaning in. He smells nice, like the forest and other green, earthy things. I feel bad. I shouldn’t be using him like this. Maybe I should stop right now before I hurt his feelings.
Shit, I’m a terrible person. I’ve let myself get carried away.
Declan grins at me, and I’m about to call this whole thing off and apologize for my behavior. I’ll blame the wine or something. It went to my head, and I’m not used to its potency. I’m from some backwater village, and I don’t know how to behave in proper society. Hopefully, he won’t become angry when he finds out he’s getting nowhere with me tonight.
But that’s when an ominous shadow looms over us like a fallen angel spreading his wings to block out the sun. Nadir’s dark eyes flash with violet and emerald, his irises simmering with bottomless rage. Declan and I go completely still, and I can’t decide if I’m afraid right now or if I’m feeling something else.
Something that is entirely inappropriate, making an ache bloom below my navel.
Should this be turning me on? Probably not.
Fuck, this is definitely turning me on.
“Get your hands off her,” Nadir says with such bone-shivering menace that Declan sits back and slowly lifts both hands off me, holding them up in surrender. Nadir then leans over, whips off the scarf hanging around Declan’s shoulders, and tosses it to the ground.
I’m too shocked to move. How dare he be angry? He’s the one who’s been flirting with everything that moves since we left Aphelion. The rational side of my brain has taken a long walk off a short cliff.
Before I can say or do anything else, Nadir bends down and picks me up, hauling me over his shoulder as he spins around and storms out of the room.