Chapter 30
I stand in front of the gilded mirror in my bathing chamber and study the girl in the reflection.
“Perfect,” Hiln says.
The other maids are silent, their eyes drawn again and again to the lace gown they helped dress me in.
I don’t blame them. Vasna may be poor, but her lacemakers are unparalleled.
Those makers wove a masterpiece for me with threads as thin as spider silk and dyed a brilliant sapphire, the color a nod to my magic.
It’s also an exact match for the jewel the king gave me.
To my surprise, Hiln didn’t jerk my hair into another headache-inducing updo.
Instead, she only drew enough back from my face to fasten a traditional Vasnan hairpiece of flowers and feathers over one ear.
The rest she left in long, glossy waves down my back.
Militant as she is, I can’t help appreciating her work.
My saltwater-beaten hair has never shone like it does now.
“Thank you,” I say.
Hiln grunts and begins waving the girls out. I thank each of them as they leave, and when they’re all gone, I return to the mirror, my thoughts quiet. Pensive.
The last time I wore this gown was at my presentation ball.
It was a rushed affair, so the seamstresses stayed up all night sewing for me to have this dress.
They wanted me to shine; they wanted Vasna to shine.
I run my hands down the bodice, remembering with a sad smile how Selena and I brought them all tea in the wee hours of the morning, how we offered to help but were shooed away instead.
Now I wear their work here, in the dragon kingdom. I wonder if they ever thought these threads would travel so far. I certainly didn’t. All my life, I thought I’d stay in Vasna.
The night my power awakened changed that. It changed everything.
I’m stirred from my thoughts by a knocking in the room beyond. My skirts softly swishing about me, I go to the bedchamber. Another knock sounds, and this time, I’m able to identify the source.
It came from the hidden door, the one between the king’s chamber and mine. My quiet heart now thuds against my ribcage.
It’s him.
I’m suddenly filled with a dozen different worries—Will he like my gown?
My hair? Me? I don’t know, but what I do know is I shouldn’t be this nervous.
This soon-to-be-marriage is a political one, not one of two starry-eyed lovers infatuated with another.
It’s better to stay levelheaded. Why do I have to keep reminding myself of that?
A third knock, this one more urgent, is loud enough to rattle the wall.
I only need to recall the last door that wasn’t answered quickly enough to find myself snatching this one open.
On the other side, Rally stands with a fist raised and ready for more knocking.
“My apologies, Your Highness.” He drops into a hasty bow. Behind him, Ty does the same. “We were told you were ready.”
“No apology is needed,” I say, equal parts relieved and disappointed not to see the king. “I am ready. Will His Majesty not be escorting me this evening?” My eyes sweep over the brothers’ formal wear.
“I’m afraid not,” Rally says. “He does apologize that he could not meet you here.”
He offers an arm, and I summon the most gracious smile I can muster. “I’m sure it’s been an eventful day for him. I would be most grateful for your escort.” I take his arm, and he shuts the door behind us.
“I know I’m a poor substitute,” he says, “but at least you don’t have to walk with Ty.”
His brother responds with yet another crude gesture from what I begin to think is an endless repository.
***
We near the banquet hall right as night is falling. The first stars are emerging, and truthfully, I’d rather run outside the city and see them than face what I’m about to walk into.
Nonsense, I tell myself as we approach the golden light within and the rising swell of voices. You’ve been in front of plenty of crowds. True, none of them were as large as this is likely to be, and none of them consisted of dragons, but…
I run out of consolations rather quickly.
“I hope you’ll excuse my forwardness Your Highness,” Rally says as the pair of guards blocking the entrance step aside, “but might I offer a word of advice?”
My pulse quickens as I take in the crowd within. There are hundreds here. Any second and they’ll spot us. “Of course.” Ty stands beside me, his expression sober.
“In truth, the advice is from my wife. She’s also human.”
I glance at him in surprise. “Then her words will be even more welcome.”
“She would say that dragons and men are not so different, but when it comes to women, they’re no different at all.”
Ty, eyes twinkling with mischief, knocks one fist against a raised finger on the other hand.
“They’re fools,” Rally interprets.
I smile at the pair of them. “I would like to meet your wife.”
“She would like that as well.”
“Until then, please give her my thanks.”
Rally inclines his head and ushers me into the room.
Like a spell, the entire hall falls utterly silent. Every eye turns our way, and I fight not to buckle under the weight of their scrutiny.
I am a princess of Vasna, I tell myself, taking strength from the gown woven by hands that love me.
I lift my chin and observe the room in a casual way, as if I see such opulence every day. Clusters of sumptuous settees are arranged in half-moon shapes near the walls, and at the center of each, a brazier table, the coals within glowing softly, warms the glistening dishes on top.
The room’s middle remains clear, and servants pass to and fro with heavy-laden trays. Or they would, if they weren’t also stopped and staring.
As if by a silent command, they stand aside, clearing a path to the hall’s far end where, seated alone on a raised dais, the Dragon King waits.
When his eyes meet mine, I could swear my heart stops.
“He’ll come for you,” Rally whispers, and then he and his brother retreat into the shadows, leaving me to face the crowd alone.
No, not alone. The king stands, and as soon as he does, every head lowers. His gaze and his alone remains on me.
A fire lights in his eyes as he steps off the dais and starts toward me. This is different than the blaze I saw when he threatened Abely, and I feel the heat of it shiver through me as he stalks my way, the floor shuddering impossibly beneath his steps as his subjects wait.
I hold my skirts out at my sides and curtsy as he closes in. “Your Majesty,” I say in a breathy voice.
“They didn’t tell me you were wearing that.”
My throat is suddenly very dry.
That was not the reaction I was hoping for.
“Is something wrong with it, Your Majesty?” I ask, peering up at him.
The fire in his eyes blazes high. Then he blinks, and the flames vanish.
“Of course not,” he says.
Instead of an arm, he holds his hand out to me. I take it and try to ignore the sting of disappointment.
“Please join me,” the king booms, “in welcoming Princess Serah Celandina to the Kingdom of Tirenth.”
“Welcome,” his court says in unison, their heads still bowed. I’m sure the greeting isn’t meant to be unsettling.
Together, the king and I walk the length of the silent hall together. He’s wearing the coat I chose for him—a long, open dress coat with silver embroidery along the lapels and edges—and I can’t deny he looks handsome in it.
All right, strikingly handsome.
Well, his lack of courtesy is no excuse for my own.
“You look dashing,” I whisper.
His fingers tighten on mine. “Thank you.”
At his bewildered tone, I sneak a glance at him. Is he…blushing? Surely not.
“Did you polish your horns?” I ask. “They seem to be gleaming more than usual.”
“I did.”
He is definitely blushing.
My cheeks pucker in an effort not to smile. I’ve blushed more in the past couple of days than I have in my entire life, and to return the favor almost makes up for his reaction to my gown.
The king guides me onto the dais first and draws me down beside him. When we’re both seated, the hall finally returns to life. I breathe a sigh of relief as dishes begin clattering again.
Servants descend upon us, and in seconds, a vast array of meats, breads, and dips engulf the table. At a gesture from the king, I make the first selection. Some moments pass before he speaks.
“How was your time with my sister?”
It’s not the question I expected first, but I appreciate the attempt at conversation. “Wonderful. We spent a lovely afternoon together.”
He speaks little after that and looks at me even less.
I occupy myself for some time by surreptitiously observing those around us.
In appearance, no one seems anything but human, but I notice suggestions of their other forms—hair sculpted into the shape of horns, bracelets crafted to look like scales.
Strangely, no one but servants approach. There are no greetings or introductions. In truth, I feel a bit like a possession on display.
A not-so-favored one at that.
When music begins, I realize there’s to be dancing. A sweet, verdant scent fills the air as servants begin opening the arched doors looking out onto a lush garden painted silver in the moonlight. The king sighs like someone bereft of all hope.
“Will you dance with me?” he asks.
I wipe my fingers with a napkin. “Can you bear it?”
His head whips my way. “What?”
“Dancing with me.” I meet his shocked gaze. “I don’t mean to sound churlish. It’s just that I’m not sure my company is pleasing to you this evening.”
His jaw works. “You misunderstand me, Princess.” Abruptly, he shoots to his feet and holds his hand out. “Please dance with me.”
I consider the hand a second longer than I likely should with everyone watching. In the end, I take it, of course. What else can I do?
Besides, pathetic as it may be, I really do want to dance with him.
The room comes to a standstill once more as he leads me out onto the floor. All eyes are on us.
“Do you happen to know the evocation?” he asks.
My lips smile of their own accord. This is one area of my Tirenthian tutelage that was not neglected. “I do, Your Majesty.”