54. Mare
Mare
People flooded Fort Rainier, days ahead of the grand wedding. Wagons, horses, and carriages clustered around the ancient edifice, a beautiful fort of dark red brick. Forlaith’s own Brightspears guarded the gates our wagon rolled through.
I’d never seen Brightspears in person before. Their armor was gorgeous, white steel curved to resemble wings. Golden surcoats and capes decorated their uniform, and they stood with their spears planted before them, rigid and disciplined.
My throat went dry as we entered the fort, under their scrutiny.
They were here to protect their queen. And while I’d felt nervous around Solhearts before, now I had to smile at them while hiding a bold-faced lie: I’d met with the rebels who’d assassinated the Emperor, and I had agreed to be their spy.
Our carriage driver parked along the walls and ushered us out. Brighid shoved her bags into Bláth’s hand and turned to me. “I need to inform my family that I haven’t ruined everything. Bláth will accompany me. You three should find King Ailithir first.”
“Where will he . . . ” I trailed off.
A Fireborn man marched through the courtyard toward us. I recognized him instantly.
He looked much like Brighid, with duller hair and eyes. Strands of dark red hair blew loose from their circlet, the same shade as his burgundy mantle.
The anger etched on Lord Astartus' face diminished when Reese stepped up next to Brighid. Running a hand down his vest, he offered a curt bow. “Lord Tiernan! I owe you a great deal for bringing my daughter here.” He shot Brighid a glare.
She lifted her chin, defiant in the face of his rage.
“I’m here on time, aren’t I?” She said.
“Barely.” Lord Astartus scowled. “The ball is in a few hours. I thought I was going to have to explain why the bride was missing!”
“Well, she’s not.” Brighid lifted her skirt, and glanced at me. “Actually, why don’t you help me get ready? Bláth could use the extra pair of hands.”
Lord Astartus' deep red eyes looked me up and down. “You must be—”
Reese stood behind me and laid a hand on my shoulder. “My apprentice. I expect she’ll be treated with the hospitality she’s due?”
The Fireborn lord’s mouth twitched, subservient in the face of a Solheart just as the Muirashin lords had been.
“Of course, Lord Tiernan.”
Reese squeezed my arm and leaned in, whispering in my ear. “I’ll keep Liam safe. Don't worry.”
“Thank you," I breathed.
“Enough dawdling.” Brighid pulled me away from him. “I’m dying for a bath, and Solathair knows Bláth needs one.”
Sighing, Bláth swung the bags over her shoulder and marched after us. I glanced back at the men. Reese watched me as I passed under the boughs of the great oak until we were far out of sight.
I knit my hands together and stared down. Should I meet Lord Astartus' gaze, he’d see the hatred burning in my eyes. Creating a scene here, before my position was secured, would only hurt everyone around me.
Brighid’s father ushered us into the southern tower and gestured toward the stairs. “Teela is waiting upstairs. She’ll take care of you.”
“Oh, how I’ve missed Teela." Brighid turned from her father. Her shoulders lowered, her arms relaxed—a barely perceptible breath of relief.
Lifting my head, I looked over the tower. Fort Rainier was a relic of ages past—when a tiny country had been tucked between Forlaith and Aenir. This fort had been a valuable defensive checkpoint against their armies.
Long ago, this spacious room had been barracks for the soldiers. Now, it was a cozy parlor, with tables laid with golden cloth.
I glanced back at Lord Astartus one last time, as we ascended the stairs.
Nobody would punish him for what he’d done to his daughter.
Saints. Forlaith would not even consider his sins a crime.
My blood boiled, and I swallowed the rage down.
Teela, as it turned out, was an old maid who’d tended to Brighid for years. Wrinkles criss-crossed her dark skin, and her orange hair had turned gray—but she had a kindness about her.
At least someone in Brighid’s life had not been horrible.
“You’re here!” Teela grabbed Brighid’s shoulders and steered her into a room. Bláth dropped her bags by the door and flopped onto the canopied bed.
I tapped the door closed behind me and stood guard at its entrance. “Why did you change your mind?”
Brighid positioned herself before the standing mirror. “I’d forgotten there was going to be a ball. You didn’t pack a dress.”
“I presumed I should wear this.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Do you want to?”
Teela opened a trunk in the corner. A stack of fabrics in every shade I could imagine was tucked inside.
Saints, I missed balls—wearing beautiful gowns and seeing a princess in the mirror. More than anything, I missed the days when my only worry was who I’d dance with that night.
“On second thought.” I smiled. “I am meeting a queen tonight. Perhaps I should wear something a little nicer.”
Bláth leaped from the bed and ran to the trunk. Teela sighed and stepped aside, hand braced on the trunk as she beckoned me to come over.
“Hm.” Brighid ran a hand across her chin. “You make a fine canvas. Let’s see what I can do with you.”
I felt ashamed. For years, I’d considered myself a lady of high society, of good fashion sense. Brighid had made me seem a pauper.
The dress she’d chosen felt like it had been tailored just for me. A lavender corset hugged my waist and pushed up my—admittedly sparse—chest. The skirt changed colors as it trailed toward the floor, twining with shades of violet and plum. Long, draping sleeves hung to the ground, sheer and silk.
Teela had bound my hair into an elaborate braid, pinning half up and letting the rest tumble in plaits, each section pinned with a half-moon jewel.
I had never felt so beautiful. I only wished the dress had been meant for a happier event.
Before we’d left for the ball, I’d expressed my worry over wearing something so delicate, so feminine. Brighid had said something I wouldn’t soon forget.
“Women can be beautiful sparrows, and sharpened blades, both. There is no shame in either.”
Tradition required the bride to arrive last, so Bláth and I left ahead of Brighid. The Solheart woman had chosen a simple pale-gold gown, hoping to remain discreet.
Bláth linked her arm through mine as we approached the fort’s main buildings. Several Brightspears gathered in the courtyard. Their gazes burned into my skin.
Offering them a smile, I turned my focus to the ballroom as we passed through the doors.
Chatter from lords and ladies rose in a steady hum above the low-lit room. Bouquets decorated every table, gold and red blooms. The dance floor itself was empty—purposefully avoided.
“There.” Bláth touched my back and pivoted me west. “My advice? Stick by Reese all night.”
My Paragon stood by a table, a wine glass balanced between his fingers. He’d changed into white crimson finery; an elegant black shoulder cape covered his right arm.
Liam stood in his shadow, swathed in a dark coat, eyes to the ground.
“Where will you be?” I whispered.
“Spying.” Bláth winked and sauntered away.
Taking a breath, I approached Reese. He chatted with Liam and a man I did not recognize—though I could guess his identity, considering the legendary hammer strapped to his back.
Tall, dark-skinned with neat black hair—this must have been Paragon Agendra.
He wore Terishal garments—loose-fitting pants tied with a colorful sash.
His tunic hung open, revealing his broad chest and an elaborate necklace of aquamarine beads.
Agendra nudged Reese in my direction. My Paragon's golden eyes landed on me, and he froze, grip slipping on his glass. He barely managed to catch it before it shattered on the floor.
Straightening out, Reese set the glass down and rushed to meet me. “You look incredible.” He grinned, offering me an arm.
“Don’t I?” I took his arm. A flush crept over my cheeks. “Brighid’s wardrobe isn’t half bad.”
He chuckled, leading me back to the table. “This is Agendra, though I'm sure you already know that.”
Agendra pressed a fist to his chest and bowed. “Buttercup has been filling me in on your exploits, Lady Rohan.”
“Buttercup?” My eyebrows shot up.
“Oh, that’s good.” Liam leaned on the back of a chair. “I’ll have to remember that one.”
Reese sighed. “Don’t pay him any mind; he gives the worst nicknames.”
Oh. That meant I would get one, too.
A faint smile crossed Agendra’s mouth.
Clearing my throat, I elbowed Reese. "You're one to talk, calling me Sunshine when I'm anything but."
Liam laughed into his glass. "Nonsense, sister, everyone back home thinks you're a hoot."
"Sunshine," Agendra repeated, staring at Reese. "Cute."
Flushing, Reese pulled me away from them. “Are you ready? The Lecovair are all here.”
“Approaching them first will give us an edge.” I tightened my grip on his arm. “Let’s get this over with.”
“I’m glad you understand political games. I hate them.”
“Right. You headbutt politicians.”
“Tell me they don’t deserve it.” Reese took the lead, guiding me toward the northern end of the room.
"Be careful, sister," Liam called after us. I turned to see Agendra lift his glass in a parting wave.
Reese paused in the middle of the ballroom, staring at the thus-far empty dance floor.
The two of us could not dance in public. Should we try, the rest of the room would descend upon us to yank me away and bathe me in humiliation.
"Hm.” I nudged him. "Laiserian owes me a dance. Did he accompany his father?"
"Yes.” Reese's voice sounded bitter. He looked away. "Ask him. He'd be a fool to say no."
I heard the dash of jealousy in his voice, saw the way he pressed his lips into a thin line.
We were both idiots. And for some reason, that made my heart flutter with excitement.
Hand tightening on my arm, Reese pulled me away from the dance floor, toward the northern dais.
My breath fled when I saw the people gathered there.
Brightspears flanked the long banquet table, and Solheart nobles gathered around it.
A golden woman sat at the table’s head, radiant and sublime.
Her white dress plumed around her, and a magnificent golden mantle rested on her shoulders.
A golden circlet bound blonde hair looped into a towering updo.
“I spoke with King Ailithir,” Reese whispered. “You have his support, as ever.”
“Then we only need theirs.” I swallowed.
The queen bolted from her seat, heavy skirts dragging behind her as she flew to our side. A radiant smile crossed her face. “Reese!” She sounded like a lovesick young woman, seeing her beau for the first time since he left for war. “I had hoped you’d be here.”
“Siobhan,” Reese said, dipping his head.
The queen’s gaze flicked to me, and her smile faltered. “So, the stories I’ve heard are true. Cierthine was always unpredictable, but this . . . ”
“This,” Reese emphasized. “Is a promising warrior. Given a year of training, she’ll be a force to be reckoned with.”
“If you have faith in her, who am I to doubt?” The queen beamed at him.
I saw something in her gaze. Longing, yearning. Her pale irises darted around his face, looking for something—approval, or perhaps affection.
Her voice struck me, hearing the childish naiveté in her words. This woman was younger than me.
Reese’s eyes lifted, staring at someone behind the queen. A Solheart lord rose from the table, adjusted his crimson doublet, and approached.
“May I, my lady?” He asked in a deep voice. “You should return to your seat.”
Queen Siobhan lifted her heavy skirts and cast a final glance at Reese before walking away. I hadn’t been imagining it—that woman was infatuated with him.
A thousand burning questions raced through my mind, and I desperately swatted them away. I needed to remain calm. No one could see a crack in my defenses tonight.
Reese’s jaw tightened. “Father. I presume you're here to make things more difficult than they need to be?”
Father? I glared first at Reese for leaving this pertinent information out. Then, I studied the Solheart lord—Lord Tiernan.
Saints. They looked exactly alike. The father sported a mane of wavy golden locks, but his every other feature matched Reese’s.
“We’re dealing with the unprecedented.” Lord Tiernan looked me up and down. “Is that not worthy of pause?”
“I’ve been paused enough already. It’s getting old.” Reese's eyes darted away again, and he let them flutter closed.
A flicker of distress, resignation, and exhaustion. Someone he hated approached. The lord he’d warned me about?
A younger man joined Tiernan’s side—he smoothed back his golden locks and straightened his crimson finery. It bore the same sigil Reese’s father wore—a ball of flame resting in the palm of a hand.
Perhaps it was wrong to judge a man from his face, but this man looked so smug. He had noble features, no doubt, a slightly curved nose, and well-groomed eyebrows. But his lips curled in an eternal sneer.
“Dear brother, you’re late,” the new man tsked. “Your little pet is a side-note compared to the drama unfolding over there.”
He jerked his thumb toward the eastern edge of the room. I noticed my king first, his steel hair and antler-decorated crown. By his side stood a young woman with dark blue hair who wore the robes of Tsuyan’s vaunted Shatterblades.
Relief flooded through me. Diar was alive—and she still held Siotha.