Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The days before the Revel blurred into motion. Crates hauled, ropes knotted, fires banked. By the morning of departure, the camp had transformed: carts and wagons lined the edges, packed tight, the usual sprawl of daily life compressed into tidy rows ready to move.
Once more, Alethea immersed herself in the various tasks that needed attention around the camp to the best of her ability.
By now, she’d met so many soldiers she could hardly keep everyone’s name straight.
She found joy in hearing their stories and listening to them lament about the cold northern winters.
Each one understood their purpose in the rebellion, ready to take up arms in defense of their champion.
As she dressed for the evening with Emi, the soldiers’ tales lingered in her thoughts.
While the people in the camp made up only a small fraction of Nakir’s forces, they represented a powerful microcosm of the entire rebellion.
In their eyes, Alethea saw the flicker of hope and the brave spark of defiance.
She’d never been a part of something larger than herself in this way before.
As she fastened the clasps of her gown, Alethea considered her own mother’s sadistic scheming, remembering the way she’d been so eager to watch her citizens suffer under her oppressive rule.
How had the queen come to resent her people so deeply?
The contrast between her mother’s cruelty and the bravery of the soldiers struck Alethea like a bolt of Emi’s lightning.
It was a stark reminder of why they were fighting.
Her mother, the very person who should have been most interested in protecting her people, had become their greatest adversary.
The sun was dipping just below the horizon when the six of them arrived in the gardens of the castle.
Alethea wasn’t surprised to see the Imanrases had spared no expense this evening.
She could already see displays of magic and several huge bonfires spread out across the grounds.
Despite the fact the gardens were entirely surrounded by massive stone walls and armored guards, Alethea still had difficulty swallowing her nerves.
Emi’s burgundy dress shimmered in the full moonlight, its fabric catching the silvery glow and casting a soft, ethereal aura around her. Her chestnut hair cascaded in waves, framing her face and dancing on the night breeze.
Balthasar was dressed in all black, as usual. The ebony ensemble seemed to absorb the moonlight, creating the illusion he was part of the night, a silent observer in the midst of revelry. His blond locs stood out like a halo, catching the moonbeams and shimmering with a pale glow.
Kerrigan had somehow found a pantsuit with sharp lines and subtle details that looked like it had been made specifically to intimidate.
Her fire-red hair swept to one side above a shaved undercut, one ear studded with an array of gold bands.
Despite her casual demeanor, there was an undeniable intensity in her gaze, a burning power simmering just below the surface, waiting to be unfurled.
Dawes cleaned up nicely in a black tunic and leather breeches, his attire tailored to complement his rugged demeanor. The sleeves of his tunic were pushed up to his elbows, revealing a pair of thick forearms etched with scars and traces of battles fought.
Nakir was every bit the dark prince in a black jacket and trousers that hung from his lithe, powerful physique.
The fabric accentuated the breadth of his shoulders and the defined lines of his chest, sculpted from years of training and battle.
His soft raven hair was brushed back out of his face, behind his horns.
“I knew the blue dress was the one,” Emi professed, entwining their fingers sweetly as they approached the entrance to the festivities. “You look incredible.”
Alethea muttered her gracious thanks as she pushed a loose strand behind her ear.
Emi had been persistent, convincing her to wear her hair down and let the golden-blonde curls fall as they willed.
She’d become so accustomed to braiding it or binding it behind her head that the sensation of the curls cascading freely down her back was unfamiliar and unwieldy.
She knew she’d end up regretting leaving it down.
Now that her hair hung past her hips, it constantly snagged on the fabric of her dress or got caught in the clasps of her jewelry.
As she moved, she felt the weight of it shifting and tangling, reminding her of why she’d always preferred it bound—why her mother had insisted upon it, despite never having allowed her to cut it.
Yet even she had to admit there was a strange beauty in the chaos; a wildness that mirrored the rebellion stirring within her own heart.
She felt her companions’ eyes on her the same way she looked at each of them, seeing them in this new light as they approached the Revel.
Balthasar bowed low to her, his movements fluid and practiced.
Alethea, though she was accustomed to such formalities, couldn’t help the flush that crossed her cheeks.
In response, she offered a small curtsy, her skirt fluttering around her as she acknowledged his gesture.
Even Kerrigan shot a grin in her direction, flashing her a quick wink before they set off.
Dawes acknowledged Alethea with a polite nod, his attention momentarily diverted from Emi to offer her a fleeting smile.
However, it was evident his focus remained fixed on the lightning mage.
Alethea could hardly miss the longing as he watched her twirl about in her new dress on their way to the gardens.
Nakir’s gaze, unlike any other, pierced through the heart of her being.
Those pools of molten amber haunted her, burning with a fire that left her breathless.
It made her want to hide—not out of fear, but a profound vulnerability.
He silently offered her his arm, and she took it, if only to escape the intensity of his gaze.
They were each thoroughly searched for weapons before they were permitted through the stunning floral arches marking the entrance. The moment they stepped into the garden, the temperature rose several degrees.
Nakir leaned in, his breath warm on her neck. “The Great Lord and Lady have used runes to enchant this entire garden to be the perfect temperature.”
“I thought the entire point of these was that everyone would be naked by the end of the night anyway,” Kerrigan remarked with a wicked smirk, and Alethea blanched.
“Not everyone celebrates Revels the same as you do, Kerrigan,” Balthasar said.
The night unfurled before them in a vast array of vibrant colors and pulsating energy.
As they stepped further into the revelry, the scent of burning wood mingled with the sweet aroma of exotic spices wafting from food stalls.
Each step they took was accompanied by the rhythmic beat of drums, like a primal heartbeat that echoed through the festival grounds.
Bonfires blazed in magnificent pyres, casting flickering shadows that danced upon the faces of the revelers.
Every few feet, there was a new bonfire, each one towering higher than the last.
The grounds sprawled endlessly, with an array of tables where exotic fruits, delicate pastries, and spiced meats tempted the senses, even as Alethea remembered what kinds of substances were on offer.
Music floated on the night breeze, from the melodic strains of flutes and strings to the primal beat of drums. The band nearest to them played an upbeat melody, its infectious rhythm compelling Emi to sway to the music.
“I need a drink,” she declared, snatching a goblet of wine from a nearby table. “And a dance!” She looked pointedly at Dawes first, then Balthasar—each of them giving her equally concerned expressions—before settling on Nakir and dragging him to the nearest throng of bodies.
“Is there going to be some kind of... ceremony?” Alethea asked Bal, peering around for a priest or a cleric of Nysos. She had never seen one before and couldn’t imagine what one might look like.
Her friend chuckled, shaking his head. “No. The party starts when you arrive. I’m sure the hosts are around, if you wish to speak to them, but generally, these festivals are choose-your-own-adventures.
” He and Dawes were scanning the crowd, and she got the impression it wasn’t to look for their own adventure, but to search for nearby threats.
“I think my adventure is somewhere over there,” Kerrigan announced before picking up a wine goblet, downing its entire contents, and waving as she wandered off into the heart of the festivities.
The chaotic energy of the Revel swallowed her whole, her fiery hair disappearing amidst the sea of vibrant revelers.
Alethea knit her brows in concern, but Balthasar’s unbothered demeanor reassured her.
It wasn’t long before Emi and Nakir had returned after their dance, the former with a proud smile across her face. “There. Now, how do we find food that isn’t going to make me want to touch the stars?” she asked the group before noticing their missing member. “Where’s Kerrigan?”
“I have no idea,” Dawes admitted. “And I have no idea. I’ve never done one of these sober before.”
“Me either,” Emi replied, glancing around. “Come on—I want to explore!” Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she surveyed the vast expanse of the estate, leading the way as if she were on a quest to uncover hidden secrets within the very heart of the revelry.