64
My face crumpled with anger and disappointment.
Why did he persist in resisting the bond we shared? In refusing to see? What was between us was not mere lust, as he wanted me to believe.
Why wasn’t he willing to admit it?
Why was he so afraid of it?
I looked daggers at his back as he walked away from me. No, I wouldn’t let him do that. We needed to talk. We had to sort this out. And we would do it right now.
I didn’t care that we were expected.
I didn’t care that our absence would be noticed.
The King of Men was mine, and it was time for me to claim him.
“Amlach, wait,” I called out, catching up with him just as he was about to exit.
“Mother, look, it’s the princess!” burst out the voice of a little elf.
I froze on the threshold with Amlach. I had completely forgotten that all our people had been invited to the celebrations, filling every garden and courtyard, making the palace overflow with smiles, food, music, and dancing to bursting point.
I greeted the river of elves that the sentries were guiding toward the two arches on either side of the small square in front of the main building with a deep nod. They bowed and then stared at me with wide-open eyes.
Suddenly, I regretted my daring choice. Why did I think it was acceptable to wear such a provocative dress around my people?
It was one thing to stroll in low-cut, sleeveless attire among the women and men of Rubra, where emphasizing feminine curves was common, but it was entirely different to present myself like this before my own kind’s sensibilities.
I hadn’t shown any consideration; I had been selfish and . . .
“Relax, Elf.”
Amlach’s warm voice tore me away from the panic that had gripped me. I turned to him, who was glancing sideways at me with that arrogant half-smile that had the power to calm my inner storm.
Whatever turmoil had beset him before was gone. And my Amlach had come back to make me feel safe.
To not make me feel wrong.
“You’re kind of human tonight, right?” He winked at me, offering his arm.
I smiled, getting lost in his eyes. “Right,” I whispered, sliding my arm into the crook of his elbow.
Yesterday afternoon, my father had sent heralds to every alley in Aegel, to every noble family, and even to the smaller villages reaching the port, to announce that the King of Men would be our guest of honor this evening and that a peace treaty would be publicly signed between our two kingdoms.
So, as Amlach and I made our way through the crowd to reach the reception hall’s outside entrance, the whispers intensified, blending admiration with hostility.
They wondered what I was doing with him.
They appreciated seeing us together. They called Amlach an impudent human.
They noticed that he had covered my hand on his forearm with his own as we passed the step into another laden garden, where the less shy had already begun dancing.
They questioned how Amlach dared to be so close to me.
They noticed the glances we exchanged. Some couldn’t understand why I had agreed to be accompanied by such a vile man.
We ignored their voices and, as if we were the new sovereigns of Aegel, gave polite nods even to the sullenest elves, moving among the little ones who scurried around us with eyes bright with wonder.
As we entered the hall, Amlach drew a sudden breath, gazing around, entranced.
The space was so vast that I had to sharpen my eyesight to see the bottom.
It featured an endless series of arches with brambles carved into the capitals of large columns.
Branches intertwined with dense emerald-green leaves climbed up to the glassy, vaulted ceilings.
Lush flowerbeds lined the paths between wide steps and small bridges with low balustrades.
Beneath them, water flowed down tiny rocky waterfalls scattered throughout the room, converging into an irregular ring around the dance floor, where white-flowered plants floated.
Large, already-set chestnut-wood tables with chairs with pointed backrests dominated the various small squares.
The ethereal music played by the three singers and the group of musicians with flutes, string instruments, and percussion from the largest bridge, just beyond the water circle around the dance floor, suddenly stopped.
The nobles’ heads turned to us in unison, and several gasps echoed throughout the vast hall. Unlike the citizens, no one dared to speak, their stunned faces saying it all.
Amidst a sea of robes in soft pastel shades of sky, water, and nature, Amlach and I stood out like two gems of rhodolite garnet and malachite on a bed of diamonds.
Like two dark rulers.
That thought, so unexpected, startled me. Where on earth had it come from?
Noticing my discomfort, Amlach stroked the back of the hand with which—I only realized it then—I was squeezing his forearm one last time. Then he unhooked his arm from mine and nodded regally to the guests.
I mimicked him, fascinated by his impeccable manners, and then drifted my attention to my parents.
Standing on the dance floor in their elegant white and gold robes, my father and mother, surrounded by a small group of elves who had come to pay their respects before joining the other guests, continued to look at me in shock for a few more seconds.
Then he adopted a neutral expression and nodded to his mate, signaling her to follow him along one of the three wide wooden walkways that hovered above the water circle.
“Welcome, King of Men,” Father greeted in the common tongue, willing himself to sound as friendly as possible. But when his eyes fell on me, the flash of wrath that crossed them felt like a stab in my chest. “Daughter.”
I held his gaze, daring him to scold me in front of everyone. “Father. Mother,” I said with a curtsy.
“Your Majesties.” Amlach bowed. “The splendor of your banquets is renowned even in my kingdom, where we try to match your grandeur. Unfortunately, we have no success in doing so, of course,” he added, unbelievably managing to coax a few nobles into chuckling.
“It’s an honor to participate in one of your events. ”
My mother laid her hand on her mate’s shoulder, smiling affably. “And we are more than happy to have you with us, Your Grace.”
A second later, her eyes minutely studied every inch of my exposed skin. Yet, she didn’t seem like she was about to yell at me, like Father. In fact, she seemed very intrigued by my appearance.
The King of the Elves signaled the musicians to resume playing, and within moments the atmosphere lightened again.
“Where’s Araton?” I asked. I couldn’t help but notice that he hadn’t jumped down my throat as soon as I’d set foot in the room.
For a moment, sadness veiled my mother’s pointy face. “He preferred to stay in his rooms.”
To avoid dealing with Amlach, I supposed. And perhaps it was also to avoid dealing with me.
“King Amlach,” Father suddenly announced, gesturing toward four maidens waiting near a column. “Allow me to introduce you to my nieces.”
They joined us and, to my horror, I noticed that the different shades of light green in their gowns perfectly matched Amlach’s tunic. It wasn’t by chance—and my mother’s brief look of apology confirmed it.
Amlach offered them a deep nod that made me want to grab him by the hair and set him upright. “It’s an honor, my ladies.”
My cousins bowed. They were each more beautiful than the last, with brown hair styled in intricate updos adorned with silver crowns. I’d expected strained smiles or stiff postures that suggested they wanted to leave, but instead, they observed Amlach with keen interest.
And I wanted to rip their eyes out.
“We’ll leave you to get to know each other,” Mother said, beaming.
My expression turned grim in the blink of an eye. But before I could begin protesting fiercely, putting on a show, my mother put her hand in the crook of my elbow and dragged me away to entertain the guests.
Nevertheless, as we moved along the bridges or up the steps, I never lost sight of Amlach.
And he never lost sight of me.
Amidst all that perfection, Amlach was so imperfect that it took my breath away.
From the wrinkles that formed around his eyes whenever he smiled to his slightly disheveled, wavy hair—every detail that set him apart from us elves attracted me like a moth to a flame.
And the fact that he was taller than any other male in the hall drove me wild.
It was as if he were a god.
And within minutes, other guests approached him, intrigued by his aura saturated with seduction.
At one moment, I caught sight of one of my cousins touching his arm and bursting into a silvery laugh. My soul roared like a beast, and I was ready to lunge at her with the intention of breaking her humerus and all the phalanges in her hand.
Suddenly, a dark figure blocked my way and grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to turn away from Amlach and my cousins.
“Easy, Sister,” he ordered in Elvish.
“Araton,” I gasped in surprise.
He moved my hair behind my shoulder and, peering down at my dress, gave a slight shake of his head with a resigned sigh.
“You came,” I said, feeling emotional as I ran a hand over the copper embroidery of his lead gray tunic.
Araton nodded. “I understood how tough this evening would be for you.” He understood how hard it would be to see Amlach announce his engagement to another woman. “And I . . . I didn’t want you to go through it alone.”
“Araton . . .” I hesitated. I didn’t want to make him mad again or persist in recalling the atrocious memory of Serie through my behavior. But I needed to talk about it. I needed to say it out loud. “Amlach is—”
“Yes,” he interjected, in a despondent tone. “I know.”
I batted my lashes in an attempt to ward off tears. “But he doesn’t feel it.”
His gaze drifted above my head, and by the way it hardened, I knew Amlach was watching us.
“He feels it, believe me,” Araton said.
Anger burned in my chest. “Then why—”
My brother took my hands, squeezing them until I lifted my gaze to his, so desolate. “Because he’s not like us, Sister. He is a king, and his people must come before anything else.” He tucked my hair behind my ear. “Plus, he knows our father would never approve.”
I closed my eyes, trying with all of myself to keep control over my emotions.
Meanwhile, our mother excused herself from the family she and her mate were conversing with and slid her arm into Araton’s elbow crook, pressing a kiss to his temple.
“Hello, darling,” she whispered in his ear, as if she somehow knew he would show up despite everything.
“Just in time,” Father said, tossing a knowing look at his son as he held out his hand to me. “Dinner is about to be served.”
Resisting the urge to check Amlach’s position and whether my cousins had huddled around him even more, I took my father’s hand. He brought it to his lips and gently kissed my fingers, his gaze expressing both understanding of my pain and appreciation that I hadn’t opposed him further.
I tried to smile at him. I told myself to be a good daughter and heir as I let him guide me to our table.
But within me, a single, deafening command arose.
Rise up.