Chapter Thirteen #2
This was turning out well. Iver was keen to have children. Charlotte seemed nice, and if she bore the child Iver fathered and Ailenor William’s, they’d all be family, no longer only by law, but also through a blood link.
A smile spread across William’s lips. “I can’t wait to be a father.”
Iver’s heart warmed. William would be good with children. After the death of his parents, Ailenor had been Iver’s only true family. He wasn’t close to Silenia. Not after what had happened.
William excused himself soon after finishing his last bite, rushing off to oversee the final preparations for the ball. His sudden departure left Iver feeling strangely spurned. At least he had enough work to keep his mind off William until the ball.
That evening, the noble guests from Winterbourne arrived at dusk. William had arranged for a grand reception in the festively decorated courtyard, where Charlotte welcomed the guests with much fanfare before attendants ushered them into the ballroom under the roof.
Iver, peeking through the door, almost didn’t recognize the hall.
Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung from the gallery and dozens of ornamented midwinter trees lined the walls.
Tables laden with appetizers and sweet treats beckoned at the end of the hall.
Evergreen decorations dangled from the chandeliers.
But the most curious feature was the thick, smooth layer of ice covering the floor.
It wasn’t part of the magic the Winter Court had brought into Silverlight. Iver would’ve noticed it on his first visit to the ballroom. How…
“I had the room flooded,” William said.
Iver looked at him with disbelief, then back at the ballroom. It was a brilliant idea. High fae and human guests clustered on the frozen-over dance floor, skates of filed animal bones tied to their shoes. The humans took careful steps on the ice, the fae gliding gracefully across it.
William nodded toward a long shoe rack outside the door, bearing a collection of bone skates. Attendants swarmed Iver and William, kneeling to attach skates to their shoes. Leather strings went through holes drilled into the bone and were tied at the tops of their feet to hold the skates in place.
At the Winter Court, skating dances on frozen lakes were a popular form of entertainment, but flooding a ballroom hadn’t occurred to Iver. William might struggle with politics, but he was a master of diversion. Iver was impressed.
“When we were children,” William said as the attendants finished lacing their skates, “Charlotte and I sometimes went out on Sapphire Lake when it froze in winter. I’ve decided to bring the lake into the castle for the ball.”
“You’ll be remembered for this.”
William held out a hand for Iver. “You think so?”
Servants opened the double doors wide for them. Every fae and human in the hall turned toward them.
“Oh yes.”
Iver regarded William’s offered hand. With the eyes of the high fae and the nobility on them, he could hardly say no.
He placed his hand in William’s, touching him for the first time since their fight.
The softness of his pampered royal skin sent a shiver down Iver’s back.
It felt better than it had any right to, the bond rejoicing, straining against its chains.
Together, they stepped over the threshold, the crowd parting for them.
The bone skates’ smoothed undersides allowed Iver to shuffle them over the ice and push off.
He glided alongside William, who maintained his balance with ease.
Like a cascade from front to back, the guests bowed as Iver and William proceeded deeper into the ballroom.
Following protocol, the court lined up to greet the kings and pay their respects. First in line, Duchess Ilona of Winterbourne and her husband bowed deeply.
“We’re grateful for the generous invitation, Your Majesties,” the duchess said, artfully avoiding the words “thank you,” which were an insult in fae culture—words were no adequate repayment for favors.
She and William talked for the amount of time appropriate for greeting someone as high-ranking as the duchess. Then they moved on, making room for the next pair. There’d be plenty of opportunity for drawn-out conversations after the first few dances.
William knew what to say, complimenting everyone on carefully chosen dresses, the recent birth of a child or an advantageous marriage. Iver introduced him to the high fae of his court by name, and again, William came up with easy topics for brief and pleasant conversation.
Once everyone had greeted them, it was time for the first dance, which was traditionally reserved for the king.
Music set in, led by a string quartet situated on the gallery.
William had hired human musicians—a wise choice.
Without the dangerous rhythm of faerie music, everyone would feel safe to dance.
Iver and William skated to the center of the dance floor and bowed to each other, the guests drifting to the edges, creating a vast open space for them.
Iver had danced across the lakes of the Winter Court many times and knew how to lead.
Following the music, he and William drifted apart, gliding to opposite sides of the ballroom.
William was nimble on his feet, gracefully curving to the back of the hall.
He’d never been more elegant. How much of this was the winter faerie fruit, and how much was natural talent and skill honed over the years?
The fruit granted strength and, to a lesser extent, agility, but it could not replace aptitude and experience—both of which William seemed to have.
They drew back together, William flying toward him.
He slid into Iver’s embrace, who couldn’t help the thrill going through him.
For the first time that day, his hands were on William, his firm muscles flexing under his touch.
After what had happened the night before, it was strange to be so close, even if it was for the benefit of their guests and the court.
Arm in arm, they spun on the ice, dancing to the rhythm of the music.
William was lithe as a cat, easily following Iver’s lead.
At one point, he pushed off his feet, spinning in the air.
The entire room held their breath. This, if nothing else, was a display of the power granted by the winter faerie fruit.
William landed well, keeping one leg extended as he arced around Iver, who offered his hand.
William took it, beaming at him, and oh yes, that smile could melt ice.
William reveled in showing off his new strength, not only to the human nobility, but especially to the high fae, who’d seen him mounted.
He needed this moment, announcing loud and clear that Iver might’ve been able to subdue him but that nobody else could.
Not with his new power, with the force he used to push off the ground and soar.
William practically flew across the ice. Iver struggled to keep pace with his lightning speed. But then William was back in his arms, hands sliding across his body, and they finished the dance in a tight embrace, William’s chest pressed to his.
As they drifted away from the ballroom’s center, the music changed, the new piece inviting everyone to join them in dance.
Fae populated the ice while the humans hesitated.
Many of them hadn’t skated before, but the bones attached to their feet provided a large enough area of contact for easy balance.
Their confidence grew quickly, and soon, the dance floor was full of couples waltzing to the strings, smiling and laughing.
The golden lights of the chandeliers and midwinter trees reflected off the ice, bringing the ballroom to a warm glow.
The same warmth shone in William’s eyes as the dance slowed.
His body moved against Iver’s, and once more the soulbond reared in its prison, banging against Iver’s chest. What would it feel like if their connection was unrestrained?
Would Iver really not know whether William had placed the dagger in their bedchamber?
The bond might not transmit thoughts, but neither could it carry falsehood, only genuine emotions.
If it ran free, he’d know how William felt about him.
It’d annihilate all doubt. But Iver couldn’t expose himself like that, couldn’t make himself vulnerable.
As they moved between the other couples, Iver spotted Ailenor and Charlotte across the hall, swept up in the dance.
Closer to the wall stood Silenia, staring at him and William through the mass of moving bodies.
She was not dancing. Her gaze pierced him, and something uncomfortable settled in the pit of his stomach.
He grew tense, struggling to keep his face neutral.
“Iver,” William said quietly, his hands tightening on him, “I swear the dagger isn’t mine and I didn’t put it under the pillow.
Do you still not believe me?” His brow furrowed in sorrow.
He’d misinterpreted Iver’s stiffening during this slower, more intimate part of the dance.
“What can I do to make you see the truth?”
“No,” Iver said, “that wasn’t why I…” But William’s question stood.
He was so close, his sapphire eyes flitting across Iver’s face.
Iver sighed, and against his better judgment, he pulled William in.
He couldn’t deny how good his body felt pressed against his.
Quietly, he said into William’s ear, “I want to believe you.” He swallowed. “I have a hard time trusting.”
“I understand. I, too, am a king. Don’t think that I never wonder who among the nobility, my friends even, is truly my ally and who’d dispose of me if the opportunity arose. Who can a king trust? Not anybody, not really.”
A bondmate. A king could trust his bondmate. Except that he wasn’t allowing the free flow of emotion.
“But still,” William continued, “I want to assure you that the dagger isn’t mine.
Ever since…” His hand balled into a fist in Iver’s jacket.
Ever since you left. William didn’t say those words, but Iver nevertheless heard them in his breaking voice.
“Ever since last night, I’ve been thinking about who could’ve placed it in our bed and why. ”
“If it wasn’t you…”
“…it was someone who wants to drive a wedge between us. But who? Who’d want that? My first thought was Beatrice, but I made sure she was escorted from Silverlight and never let past the gate again. The last time I saw her, she was talking to Silenia. I had her thrown out right after.”
Silenia. Horror filled Iver. Absolute, panic-inducing horror. His skin prickled all over. His easy glide on the ice faltered, and he bumped another dancing couple, who, given the difference in rank, profusely apologized.
Everything in Iver’s mind lined up. Silenia had talked to William before their human wedding.
Afterward, William had acted strangely, almost hostile.
Silenia had told him something that was meant to deter William from marrying him.
When that hadn’t worked, she’d smuggled William’s favorite whore back into Silverlight and asked her—no, likely paid her—to seduce William before the faerie wedding and prevent that second and, for the fae, more important marriage from being formed.
That hadn’t yielded results either, so she’d placed the dagger in their chamber, hoping it’d divide them.
Iver dreaded thinking about why. The implications…
This was not the first time Silenia had interfered with his love life.
Was she in love with William? No, there was no indication.
She hadn’t met him before she arrived at Silverlight Castle for the wedding.
Meaning her motive for keeping them apart wasn’t love.
It was power. And if it wasn’t love this time, it hadn’t been love last time.
A wave of nausea rolled over Iver. He turned to face Silenia, but she’d disappeared.
“What’s wrong?” William asked, concern plain in his voice. “You’re pale. Should we…”
At least it meant that William had told the truth. He had nothing to do with the iron dagger.
Iver had to get Silenia out of Silverlight Castle. For proprieties’ sake and not to cause a scandal, he would let her stay for the winter solstice, but as soon as the festivities were over, he’d make her leave. If necessary, by force.