Chapter 35 #2
“Oh, gods, same,” she says. “Strangers are the worst. One never knows what to expect of them.”
My response is on the tip of my tongue as everyone’s attention is suddenly drawn away from their own doings.
All eyes gravitate toward one area, and I follow, facing the top of the grand, winding staircase overlooking the ballroom.
There stands Carys, a picture of royalty.
A magnificent picture in startling black and deep purple, contrasting the bright colors that are customary of these Feasts, apparently.
I can feel the collective gasp that travels through the room.
I take in the black lace bodice and sleeves I’d so painstakingly worked on, the subtle dip of the decolletage—no one has seen how low the back of her dress plummets. My palms grow slick. What if the dress falls short? Figuratively speaking … I hope.
Her hair has been miraculously wrangled into twists and complicated braids, pinned efficiently, impressively to the back of her head. One would never know that her hair usually hangs freely well below her bottom. A beautiful tiara of gold with shimmering gems rests atop her head.
She’s met in the center of the staircase by a wiry man with umber skin and grey hair braided in neat rows.
He’s dressed in a formal robe, burnt orange with copper thread embroidery on the collar and down the button panels.
Carys smiles at him and takes his hand, continuing the journey down the stairs.
He’s clearly important enough to escort Carys, but my attention snaps to the guard not far from them.
A knight, with gems shimmering in his golden armor.
I recognize his stride before I take in his dark hair, slicked back into a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck.
No strands fall over his forehead as they often do, and his face is stony, giving away nothing.
Kilkenny.
The suit of armor is beautiful, but I can imagine him seething beneath that cold mask of indifference.
Lowri waves to me, excusing herself to go to the toilet. I smile and tell her that I’ll see her later. If I get the chance before I head home.
Carys is in the ballroom for all of ten seconds before she’s flocked by many attendees.
People stand by to greet her, waiting their turn, bowing to her.
Carys twirls for a gaggle of young women fawning over her dress.
The skirts swish around her and it’s mesmerizing.
The gold beads on her bodice catch the light and glimmer with her movement.
I’m filled with a sense of pride that almost makes my harrowing experience of being forced from my home worth it. I wish Osheen and Orla could see my handiwork. I wish I had a painting of this moment to hang on my wall back home. I hope I never forget the hard work that paid off.
The festivities proceed, and Carys dances with various suitors. Ellynne appears at my side, and I nearly fall over from the surprise.
“I feel like you’ve been standing in this very spot all night.”
She’s stunning in a red dress that hugs her curves, the color rivaling her hair. She’s chosen to leave it unbound, loose waves framing her face and cascading over her shoulders. Her makeup is far from subtle, but it suits her.
“I have,” I admit. “You look beautiful, by the way.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is ravishing, sweetheart.”
This time I can’t bite back the laughter. “So, are you trying to impress anyone in particular or … ?”
“Hmm, not so much impress as torment,” she says with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “He’s already mine. I just want to remind him of what he has.”
I giggle. “Who is he?”
“His name is Vaughn. He’s one of the royal healers.” She points out a man with dark, slightly thinning hair and a green suit. He isn’t particularly handsome, but Ellynne’s face says otherwise. I can’t help but smile. Ellynne … in love? Unexpected, honestly, but incredibly heartwarming.
“Well, shouldn’t you go dance with him?”
She raises a brow and lowers her head, as though she’s whispering to me. “Will you be alright here?”
“Yes, of course.”
She smiles. “Sorry that your knight in shining armor is on duty tonight. Plenty of other victims though.”
Victims. I huff out a laugh. “Go to your beau.”
She grins at me and nods before walking off.
Vaughn’s face lights up as though no other woman exists besides Ellynne.
She greets him with an embrace and a tender kiss.
My focus gravitates toward the dance floor again.
Carys dances with a huge man with a braid of dark blond hair.
She doesn’t appear as annoyed as I expected.
Instead, she laughs freely at something he says.
Kilkenny’s never far from Carys, even as she moves about the dance floor. There are other knights scattered around the ballroom, though none are in such extravagant armor as his. I admire the armor of the other knights one by one, and when I turn back to Kilkenny, he’s watching me.
I must be mistaken, though. He wouldn’t dare to take his eyes off Carys, would he?
Intrigued, I take a few steps as if I’m heading toward the refreshments table, and his head swivels, following me.
My lips curve into a smile and his attention snaps back to Carys … who, to his surprise, has moved on to another part of the dance floor with her massive partner. Kilkenny hurries toward her, and I can’t hold back my laughter. It draws the attention of someone nearby.
No, not just someone. The man in the fancy robes.
He starts toward me, and my pulse quickens as I spot a pin over his heart with the emblem of Erleyan royalty. This must be the Hand of the Queen who I have heard so much about. Gods, I hope I haven’t offended him by laughing.
“Good evening,” he says. “Nice to finally meet you in person, Miss Garrick.” His brown eyes regard me, and he offers a slow nod. “I’m Lord Iywan Maddock. My apologies for not going out of my way to introduce myself sooner. I take it you have enjoyed your stay at Paramount?”
“Good evening, Lord Iywan. I have, thank you.”
“How are you enjoying your first Feast?”
“It’s very exciting and everyone looks so lovely.”
He chuckles. “Everyone cleans up pretty well, I’d say.” There’s something accusatory in his gaze as he studies my attire. My skin prickles. “You must have made Her Highness quite content to earn that dress.”
“I suppose I have,” I say, more unease crawling beneath my skin.
“So, I see.”
I move my hand toward my sleeve to fiddle with the bracelet that I’d forgotten no longer lives on my wrist, and as I search for Carys on the dance floor, her sudden absence surprises me.
I turn back to Lord Iywan. I want so much to excuse myself from this uncomfortable interaction, but he hasn’t dismissed me.
Please dismiss me.
“Impressive work on the princess’s dress,” he tells me. “A … bold choice going with such dark colors rather than one more suited for a royal maiden.”
I resist laughing at his maiden statement.
“I …” All words elude me. I’m not sure what to say. That the princess wanted something bold?
Iywan leans in a bit closer, sizing me up. “You … ?” There’s something mocking on his face.
I run my fingers along my empty wrist again. Say something, Durvla.
An arm loops through mine, and though I startle, the flash of a red dress beside me quells my nerves.
“The princess has requested the presence of Miss Garrick. My apologies, Lord Iywan. Excuse us.” She nods to him, and he nods back, his jaw clenched.
Ellynne whisks me away and doesn’t speak until we’re halfway across the ballroom. She releases my arm. “You looked like you needed some rescuing,” she says.
I huff out a relieved laugh. “Yes. Thank you.”
“I know Lord Iywan can be … intense.” She shrugs. “Come. Let’s get you a glass of wine.”
Wine sounds great. I follow her to the refreshment table, and she lifts a crystal wine flute from among the others, handing it to me. Just a sip. I have to prepare for my travel back to the Grounds tomorrow morning. I have no intention of nursing a hangover as well.