37. Thirty-Seven
Tonight, the first of two grand balls thrown in honor of Levanora, is less than an hour away and I feel like I”m back in my element. I am new to politics, magic and dragons, but glittering gowns, superficial conversations and dancing are my specialties.
With Eris” help, I slip into the curve-hugging, off-the-shoulder navy gown that was custom made for my debut as an Elowen royal. The long sleeves are perfect for the chilly evening, and the silver and gold beads and sequins sparkle in the light, giving me the feel of being clothed with the starry, night sky.
”The lost princess has finally come home.” The wrinkled seamstress had said whilst measuring me last week. And even though I know that”s who I am, I still don”t feel comfortable basking in their unearned adoration.
Once my hair is braided and pinned in an intricate updo and my make-up is finished, a fully dressed Eris leaves to meet Finn for another dose of disimulo. According to Ronan, representatives from Hydra will be in attendance tonight and the last thing any of us need is for Eris” true identity to be revealed and spark a House war.
I take one last moment to admire myself in the mirror. Memories of standing in my room in Midori with my parents flash in my mind. I was so blissfully unaware of all the lies, secrets and upcoming betrayals. It feels like I was an entirely different person months ago. Probably, because I was. The truth is, I wasn”t remotely safe, and it took a life-threatening trek through the Bavan jungle to prove just how blind I was.
A firm and self-assured knock on my door rattles the memories of a simpler life free from my thoughts and spurs me to answer it. I whip it open, expecting to see one of my friends or my mother, who is supposed to escort me to the ballroom, but my breathing is labored when I”m standing toe-to-toe with the Frost King. I quickly take in his great height and swallow. We haven”t seen one another since I arrived in Elowen. I”ve heard stories about him from my friends and even snippets from my mother and cousin, but for some inexplicable reason, my grandfather sets the hair on my arms to stand straight in warning.
”Your Highness,” I manage to find my voice, and curtsey. ”Forgive my surprise, I was not expecting you.”
”I heard you were reunited with your dragon.” He ignores my greeting.
”I have.” I bob my head, putting my courtly mask back in place. ”It took some time, but I think Seraxes and I are growing quite fond of one another.”
”That”s good to hear.” He brushes past me, inviting himself inside my quarters, and glances around my room, as if he is looking to see if anyone else is in here. Only when he is satisfied with the knowledge that we are alone, does he turn to face me.
Unease of being trapped alone in here with him propels me to keep my door propped open.
”I am sure Sylvane is proud of your progress.” Armas clasps his hands behind his back and even though he smiles, the disgust in his gaze is hard to miss.
I square my shoulders to his and nod. ”She seems to be.”
”You know” – he chuckles and it”s anything but friendly – ”you”re the first pelcruor to ride a dragon.”
”Pelcruor?” I furrow my brow and take a bold step forward.
”It means, half-blood.”
”Actually, it means inferior blood,” I fire back, in spite of the unwelcome chill slipping down my spine. If I catch him off guard with my knowledge, he doesn”t give me any signs of it.
He shrugs. ”To me, it is the same.”
”I am a Basilius – ”
”You are only half.”
”Forgive me, Your Majesty” – I can”t help my nose from crinkling – ”but it sounds as if you disapprove of me.”
”House Basilius prides itself on our ancient and powerful bloodline.” He paces around my room, as if the horrendously prejudicial things he spews aren”t offensive. ”Since you aren”t a full-blooded Frost Elf, other steps will need to be taken to solidify you as one of us.”
”I completed my course with Seraxes and I am eligible for my Orhelle tattoos.” I don”t know why I feel the need to defend myself, but I continue, ”And furthermore, I am the lost princess. The people will – ”
”Our people will not accept you unless you swear fealty to House Basilius and take a Frost Elf as your mate.”
”What?”
”You are slated to be officially welcomed back to Elowen and by tomorrow evening, you will need to publicly declare your allegiance and choose your husband. If you would rather I choose your betrothed, I would be happy to oblige.” He smiles again, but it appears more like a menacing snarl. ”Consider me choosing your husband my gift in welcoming you home, Aurelia.”
”You expect me to choose a husband – ”
”If you wish to rejoin House Basilius, you will agree to my terms.”
”I did not realize you needed to permit me back into the family I never left on my own accord,” I throw back at him with more sass than I typically would wield against a king.
”If you do not obey, you will not be welcome here.” His grey eyes sharpen and stare down at me. He”s done with my games and certainly over my combativeness. ”If your mother had known her place, she wouldn”t have tainted our bloodline by choosing a man beneath her to breed.”
”My father is a Celestial,” I snarl back.
”Celestial blood is not Frost Elf blood, pelcruor!” Collecting himself, he smooths the front of his lapel and throws his long, white hair over his shoulder. ”The choice is entirely yours. If you fail to pledge your allegiance and your hand by tomorrow night, consider yourself banned from returning to Elowen.”
He strides past me without saying a word, shuts my door, and leaves me to my own thoughts.
Pelcruor.
Inferior blood.
My heartbeat quickens and I feel rage bubbling within me. How dare he? He didn”t just insult me, he insulted my parents. He insulted a Celestial. His prejudice truly knows no bounds.
I”ve worked my ass off at Fendruil to learn to ride my dragon and use my magic alongside my kin. Now, he wants me to marry a Frost Elf to prove my loyalty to this family – my family!? Why should I be expected to fulfill a list of requirements to be welcomed home, when I never left of my own volition?
A light knock on my bedroom door startles me, and immediately sets me on edge. I open the door slowly and I”m relieved to see my mother on the other side. Her bright smile vanishes the second she drinks me in.
”What”s the matter?” She furrows her brow and attempts to look over my shoulder to see if someone is inside.
I should tell her what just happened between me and the Frost King, but it”s not her burden to bear. It”s a fight between me and my grandfather. I can”t expect other people to fight my battles for me.
”Are you nervous about tonight?” Her tone softens, drawing my gaze. ”If you would prefer to skip the ball altogether, that”s fine with me, Aurelia. I know a discreet restaurant in the city where we can have a private dinner out of the public eye.”
”Y – y –,” I stutter. ”You would really do that for me?”
”I”m your mother,” she shrugs, as if it”s nothing to make a fuss about. ”I would do anything for you.”
My eyes water and I take a deep breath. I wrap my arms around her neck and relish the feeling of her hugging me tightly in return. ”Thank you, Amma,” I whisper.
”You don”t have to thank me for putting you first,” she says, before pulling back from me. She slips her hand over my cheek and smiles. ”So, what is your decision? Are we going to the ball or dinner?”
Everything within me screams for us to escape the party while we can, but I know if I don”t show up, the Frost King will have something to say about it.
Suddenly, movement to my left draws my attention. I turn to see Atlas waiting a few paces down the hall. He”s dressed in a black suit with a green Tronovian sash across his chest. His hair is slicked back, and his tattoos are hidden beneath his clothing. He cleans up nicely, but I think I prefer the kind-hearted rogue beneath the finery. The second our eyes meet, an ache in my lower belly has me wanting to crash my lips against his.
”He insisted on escorting you to the ball,” Sylvane says, ripping me from my lustful thoughts. ”He said you needed protection.” The teasing in her tone isn”t missed, but I”m grateful he”s here.
”Princess.” He lifts my hand up to his lips and plants a gentle kiss on my knuckles when he reaches us. ”You look beautiful.”
”You don”t look so bad yourself,” I smile, and struggle to keep my thoughts from lighting up my hands.
”Aurelia?” My mother asks. ”Are we going to the ball?”
I nod my head. ”I think it”s about time our people got to know me.”
Pride beams in her eyes and she nods in approval. ”Well, there”s something I want you to wear.”
I hadn”t noticed the blue velvet case Atlas has in his hand until he extends it to my mother. She opens it carefully and nestled inside is the most stunning tiara I”ve ever seen. It”s gold with two Celestial suns flanking the Basilius star at the center. Small diamonds and pearls are scattered along the crown.
She holds it in both hands carefully and says, ”I had this fashioned the day you were born with the intention you would wear it for your eighteenth birthday. I would be honored if you would wear it tonight when you are introduced to our allies.”
Since we”re the same height, I dip into a curtsey, so she can easily rest it on my head. Once it”s firmly in place, I straighten and smile proudly. My confidence is once again restored and despite the monstrous things Armas Basilius said to me, I know without a doubt that he”s an ignorant bigot who couldn”t be more wrong about me. And I”ll show him, if it”s the last thing I do.
The ballroom is beyond words. Navy ceilings with glass chandeliers, marble floors, gold chairs; floor to ceiling windows line three out of four walls and there”s a balcony that runs the length of the room. The views of the mountains, lake, and city below are incomparable. I thought the library boasted the best views, but I was wrong.
Frost Elves, Hydrans, Bavans, Tronovians and even a handful of Dwarves from Durne are littered around the ballroom, engaging in light-hearted conversation, downing glasses of wine and dancing with stunningly dressed partners. I thought Midorian balls were glamorous, but they pale in comparison to Levanora.
The herald at the only entrance into the ballroom smashes his gold cane against the marble floor and cries, ”Her Highness Princess Sylvane Basilius-Sol and her daughter, Princess Aurelia Basilius-Sol. Accompanying the princesses is Lord Atlas Harland of House Delaney.”
All eyes shoot toward us, and I swear the music even sputters at our arrival. Everyone can”t seem to get a good enough look at the lost princess. In the midst of thousands of scrutinizing faces pinned on me, Atlas loops my hand over his forearm and squeezes reassuringly. For a brief moment, it”s just us in the ballroom, and all the stress and pressure I was feeling melts away. He winks and escorts me the length of the ballroom until we come to the Frost King”s throne at the farthest end. We all show him due respect by bowing and curtseying, but the second I tear my eyes from the floor and stare at my grandfather, I see his gaze isn”t on me like I expect it to be. No, his eyes are fixed on Atlas, or rather, our intertwined arms.
No one speaks until the Frost King smooths his frown and flashes a well-rehearsed smile. ”The princess who was lost all those years ago has finally returned home!” His voice booms and one would actually believe he was excited for my presence, but I know better now. ”Tomorrow night, my granddaughter will not only pledge her allegiance to House Basilius, but she will give her hand in marriage to ensure our House continues!”
Despite the applause echoing throughout the vast space, Atlas tenses and my mother side-eyes me. I suddenly feel guilty for not being forthcoming with them earlier. I understand the feeling of being blindsided and I know they”re looking at me with questioning glares, and they”re due an explanation.
Armas finally meets my line of sight and grins. ”Welcome home, Aurelia.” He claps his hands; the jarring movement startles me. ”Music! Dancing! This is a party, isn”t it?”
The music starts up again and the giggling couples take to the dance floor, enjoying the night.
We step away from the dais and once we”re out of the Frost King”s direct line of sight, both Atlas and my mother demand an explanation.
”Aurelia Basilius-Sol,” Sylvane”s eyes narrow. ”What is he talking about? What allegiance? What betrothal?”
Atlas recoils at the word betrothal, but remains quiet, giving me the opportunity to answer my mother”s rapidly fired questions.
”The Frost King came to my room before you two arrived and said if I wanted to be accepted back into House Basilius, I would have to pledge my allegiance and my hand to a Frost Elf by tomorrow night”s ball.” I snatch a glass of wine from a tray as a server passes by and guzzle the red liquid.
”Why didn”t you tell me?” Sylvane sighs, her shoulders droop.
”Because it”s not your burden to bear, it”s my fight.”
”You don”t have to fight alone, Aurelia.” She scans the room before refocusing on me. ”Chin up. Don”t let anyone know there”s a problem. We will figure this out, yes?”
I nod in silent agreement.
”Now,” she rolls her shoulders back. ”I need a drink.” She grasps my hand and squeezes. ”You will be expected to dance with foreign lords and dignitaries – ”
”I know,” I puff in irritation. That”s the last thing I want to do right now, but I was briefed of my full dance card yesterday.
”I will find you later,” Sylvane says, before slipping through the crowd to find herself that much needed drink.
Reluctantly, I spin around to face Atlas, but he”s not there. I glance around to see if I can spot him but find myself face-to-face with a Frost Elf lord I”ve never seen before. He bows and smiles, ”I believe I was granted the honor of your first dance, Princess Aurelia.”
Shit.
All I want to do is find Atlas and talk to him, but royal obligations have already put a stop to it.
I offer the best smile I can muster before accepting the Frost Elf”s hand. He”s a pleasant dancer and decent with conversation, but as we twirl around the floor, my eyes scan for Atlas, or any of my Tronovian friends. Before I know it, I”ve danced with eight different men – four Frost Elves, two Hydrans, a Bavan and a Dwarf who seemed more interested in the low neckline of my gown than actually conversing.
I spot my mother the second the music fades, so before anyone else can ask me to dance, I beeline toward her. If anyone knows where my friends are, surely she must. Before I reach her, someone snatches my bicep and drags me backward.
”Dance with me.”
I whip around, ready to attack whoever grabbed me, but see its Thrane.
”I”m not interested in dancing – ”
”I don”t remember asking,” Thrane interrupts, sliding his hand to my lower back and pulling me close as the next song begins. ”We need to talk,” he says in a low voice.
”About what?”
”I heard our ancient-of-days grandfather is insisting you choose a Frost Elf mate by tomorrow night to be officially welcomed to House Basilius.”
”You are certainly well-informed,” I quip, since the entire ballroom is now well aware I must betroth myself by tomorrow evening. ”But you”re honestly the last person I want to discuss this with. Have you seen Atl – ”
”Naturally. However, I”m not here to lament with you.” He twirls me, ignoring the admiration from the other guests. ”I have a proposition for you.”
”You have my momentary attention.”
”Marry me – ”
”You can”t be serious.”
”Might I at least finish my proposal before you so rudely dispatch me?” He narrows his grey eyes down at me. ”I might be your only hope here.”
”Fine.”
”Thank you.” The corner of his lip tilts upward, the only sign he”s remotely entertained. ”As I was saying, marry me. You”ll be accepted into the Basilius household and together we can rule Elowen.”
”I fail to see how this does me any favors.”
”Ah, yes, well, you are not the only one our cold-hearted grandfather is pressuring into marrying for the sake of the House.”
”So,” I hiss, ”this marriage is really for your gain.”
”I have no interest in marriage and have been avoiding it for years. Alas, with you here, Armas has decided to force my hand.” A stunning Frost Elf woman winks at Thrane and he shudders in obvious disgust. ”I”m far too invested in myself to be shackled to another. You are looking for a way to be accepted as a Basilius and continue your affair with the Tronovian.” Before I can refute his statement, he continues, ”Marry me and you accomplish both.”
I arch a brow, skeptical that his offer is innocent. ”I assume you will expect me to share your bed and bear you heirs – ”
”Oh, Stars, no!” He can”t interrupt me fast enough. ”Not to say you aren”t a beautiful creature, but I would rather dance around the ballroom naked than bed you. You have the broody Tronovian for that task.”
”Well” – I clear my throat, swallowing my wounded pride – ”that was wholly unnecessary.”
”Would you rather me be honest or spare your feelings with more lies?”
”Honesty doesn”t have to be presented with such brutality.”
He cocks his head to the side, confusion very apparent in his face. ”How else would one do it?” The music fades and the dancing couples applaud, bringing our conversation to an abrupt end. ”So,” he says, pressing his lips to my knuckles, ”do we have a deal?”
”I need to think about it.”
”Of course.” He rolls his eyes, sarcasm dripping with each word. ”Take all the time you need, Aurelia.”
He bows at the hip before turning on his heel and booking it before ladies of the court can beg him for a dance. I glide in the opposite direction, needing a moment alone to process my thoughts. I find myself on one of the many balconies overlooking the city and lake beyond it. I can”t help but squint, hoping I can see Haverness, the little village where the cabin is, but fail to find it. How I wish I could escape and go spend another night with Atlas.
”How is it possible for you to look even more stunning out here?” Atlas makes his way to me and rests his forearms along the stone railing beside me.
”Where have you been?” I hiss, angry he abandoned me in the ballroom when I needed him most.
”Apologies, Princess, but just like you have duties that require your attention, I do as well.”
I”m not entirely sure what to say at this point. By his tone, it sounds like he doesn”t care that I”m expected to pledge my life and hand to the Frost Elves, but by the tightness in his shoulders and storm brewing in his eyes, I know he”s scared.
”What do you intend to do?” he asks, his eyes pinned to the city below.
”I don”t know. Thrane offered to marry me, so I don”t have to pledge myself to a stranger. He said you and I could continue seeing each other, since he has no real interest in me as a wife.”
His fingers grip the stone, as if he”s trying to restrain himself from finding Thrane and beating the shit out of him. Slowly, he slides his hand against the banister to meet mine but stops short. He doesn”t respond or look up at me, so I whisper, ”Don”t you have anything else to say? Any advice to offer?”
”What”s there to say?” He finally meets my gaze. ”You finally found your family. Here you have titles and a future. I could never ask you to give all of this up for me.”
”Maybe I would.”
He smiles, but I can sense the pain behind those green eyes. Slowly, he reaches over and tucks loose strands of my hair behind my ear. ”You belong here.”
”That”s all you have to say?” I hiss like a wounded animal. ”I belong here?”
”What do you want me to say, Shaye?” A flash of frustration erupts across his face.
”Maybe, don”t marry Thrane? Or don”t give into fulfilling some warped sense of duty to a dusty old man?”
”And if I said all of those things, would it even matter?” He squares his shoulders to mine; tension tightens in his frame. ”How long would it take for you to resent me? How long would it take for you to hate me for pushing you into abandoning what you”ve been denied your entire life? A day, a month, a year?”
”I would expect the man whose fingers have been curled inside me to at the very least pretend to put up a fight for my hand” – I eye him up and down with viciousness – ”but I suppose I have no one to blame but myself for blind stupidity.”
I storm off, denying him the chance to respond, but Atlas isn”t going to give up easily. I can hear him chasing after me, weaving in and out of the crowded ballroom. I lose him when a group of giggling Frost Elves pass in front of him, and I slip into the hallway. I”m done with dances, done with making small talk with people I don”t know, done with pretending to be alright. I stomp down the corridor, passing couples kissing in the shadows, until I find my bedroom. I fling the door open and slam it behind me, but the loud crash of it closing doesn”t sound. I spin around only to find Atlas standing in the threshold, anger marring his features, his hair disheveled.
”We aren”t done here.” He steps inside and shuts the door behind him.