CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO #3
Another hour later, they were dressed in their finest. The Alliance provided clothing for them, having taken their measurements and any particular requests they had while still in Loclight to prepare for the grand celebration of the rebirth of their nation.
Evylin hadn’t cared what she wore so long as it was exceptionally elegant.
However, Deckard had given the tailors his own requests for her gown: a dark green velvet dress heavily embroidered with silver everbloom ivy all along the bodice, skirt, and sleeves.
The square neckline provided ample display for her rosette necklace from Hewitt while preserving a modest cut per Eastern sensibilities.
She felt regal in the gown but also cared for, knowing that Deckard had ensured Ryen and Hewitt’s inclusion in this grand moment.
Deckard was given a white military-style coat with a high collar and black detailing to signify his status as a Space Mage.
Though she had no doubt he cared little for the distinction, she thought it made him look sufficiently like an officer.
And even better, the black silk cravat made the color of his eyes pop more green than blue, which she found especially alluring.
They discovered Thom seated near the fire in a light silver-blue coat and black trousers. He stood upon their entrance, smiling. “Well, don’t you look positively imposing?” he teased.
Evylin brushed his sleeve playfully. “You look rather handsome yourself.”
“Really?” Thom’s chest puffed out as he brushed back some of the dark hair that drooped onto his forehead.
“That color brings out your eyes,” she confirmed.
“Why, thank you.” Thom edged closer to whisper so only she could hear. “It’s the sixth today, remember?”
Evylin sucked in a sharp breath at the reminder. “That it is,” she said.
They exchanged a sharp nod while Deckard watched curiously.
Calyn’s giggle in the hall announced the arrival of the rest of their party.
Together, Calyn and Brea stepped into the parlor.
They were both so very different in general, and their appearance only emphasized the fact.
Calyn’s soft brown hair was tucked and braided into a ladylike bun, little wisps dancing around her face.
She wore a lavender-blue dress with fluttering sleeves, a demurely wrapped V to the neckline, and glittering beads all along the waistband and skirt.
Her light tan skin glowed in the evening light, and Evylin was struck by the maturity of her little sister’s appearance.
Calyn was truly a woman, in mind and form.
At the young woman’s side, for perhaps the first time ever, Brea’s dark black hair was out of its braids.
It hung in a thick curtain of curls around her shoulders, the top pinned back elegantly.
If that wasn’t odd enough, she wore a flowing, colorful gown of pastel blue with floral appliqués—one perched on the shoulder as the others trailed down like a spray of heather across the Western moors.
“Oh!” Thom said abruptly, interrupting Brea and Calyn’s conversation.
The women stopped, looking at him in surprise.
Thom shuffled awkwardly. “Ah.” He winced, cleared his throat, and started over. “You ladies look lovely.”
While Brea wore a knowing grin, Calyn beamed bashfully. “And you look dashing, Thom,” she said. She plucked at her chiffon skirt. “How marvelous that we all selected blue.”
“Indeed,” Brea said dryly.
“Though I think your coat and your dress match better,” Calyn noted to Thom and Brea. “Mine’s a bit too purple to truly match.”
“I think your dress is perfect,” Brea said. She patted Calyn’s arm. “Thom, why don’t you escort Calyn? She is your sister-in-law, after all.”
“Oh, well—”
Deckard cut Thom off, surprising Evylin by saying, “Actually, I’ll be escorting both Evylin and Calyn.”
“You will?” Evylin asked, bemused.
“Mm,” he said. “It’s only proper, as I’m the closest thing she has to a father here in Aulton.”
At that moment, Gisele, the clerk, knocked and entered to guide them to the banquet hall. Though Evylin shared a dubious look with her sister, they did as Deckard requested, each hooking their hand into the crooks of his arms, leaving Thom to offer his arm to Brea.
Gisele guided them through the dim glow of the sunset-tinged halls and down two flights of stairs.
Oil lanterns hung on the columned walls, and their footsteps echoed on the stones.
Gisele offered tips on how to navigate the palace and pointed out the locations of the most significant rooms. After about ten minutes, they arrived at the dining hall, and Evylin felt overwhelmed by the flood of directions that she knew she would probably forget.
As men and women poured into the hall, they brought with them the lively buzz of conversation and excitement.
The expansive space was filled with numerous tables where both magical and non-magical folks gathered together, sharing laughter and stories.
Everyone was dressed in their finery, proudly wearing signs that identified them as Warriors, Mages, clerks, and various other roles she didn’t recognize.
While scanning the room, she spotted a few familiar faces, but the one she recognized most was Highlord Aterian Jarrad Hoult, the Terrae Mage who had helped them escape from Renaul.
At his side was a beautiful young woman with golden brown hair, and in his arms, he held a little boy.
At the far end of the room, a platform was occupied by a series of tables arranged in a U-shape.
Some ministers were already seated, while others were just coming in.
Right in front of the platform stood a long table with all its seats vacant, although six individuals nearby were busy handling what appeared to be small pieces of paper.
A spike of anticipation lit in Evylin, and Deckard’s burgeoning joy met her grip on his arm.
They watched as Vayden leaned against the back of a chair, chatting with two men, and Ilain playfully swatted at a piece of paper in Ethenn’s hand, which the young man skillfully kept out of her reach.
She tugged at the sleeve of his black coat, both smiling brightly, while Reyana, Vayden’s daughter, stood to the side, watching their fight with a hand covering her laughter.
Unconsciously, Evylin’s footsteps sped up, desperate to see her friends. Her family.
Deckard gently unhooked her hand from his arm. “Pardon me, Clerk Gisele,” he called, and the woman turned back. He set his hand on the small of Evylin’s back, ushering her forward. “We can find our way from here.”
With apparent understanding, Gisele smiled and stepped out of their way.
Evylin didn’t bother waiting. She lifted her skirt and hurried down the aisle of tables. Several people took notice, but she didn’t care.
One of the men Vayden conversed with—Brea’s nephew, Cris—spotted them approaching and alerted his companions.
Vayden turned, grinning, and then reached over to pat his sister’s shoulder.
Ilain’s fiery hair flickered as she spun around to see where her brother was pointing.
The moment she recognized them, Ilain darted past the men.
With the flurry of movement and the vibrant yellow of her gown, Ilain looked just like the fire she wielded.
The women crashed into one another in a furious embrace filled with laughter, smiles, and teary eyes.
Elation erupted through Evylin. She’d missed Ilain far more than she’d ever imagined possible.
The woman’s bright spark and unerring confidence, her fierce loyalty and ready affection were a noticeable absence from her life. Evylin never wanted to let her go.
“Oh, Evie, I’ve missed you,” Ilain said before she pulled back. “Alma is a good Warrior, and she’s a nice person, but she’s not like you.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Evylin replied. “I’d hate to think you’d found someone to replace me.”
“Never,” Ilain promised, clasping Evylin’s hands in hers.
Ethenn appeared behind his wife, a respectful grin tugging at his lips as he approached. He nodded to Deckard behind the women and then turned to Evylin. “Hello,” he said, as if not wanting to interrupt.