Chapter 66
Jane
The ballroom was perfect for dancing. The polished marble floor shimmered with pinpricks of silver cast by the stars on the vaulted ceiling.
Magelights illuminated the space, while sconces decorated the walls.
Dark red curtains had been drawn back, granting the mountains a view of our ceremony through the balcony doors.
From the far end of the room, I watched faces I recognised and many I didn’t, all of them gathered to witness the public ceremony.
Our bonding rite and my Ladyship oath.
Their voices blended with the lows and highs of the violinists I had chosen.
My leg bounced beneath my skirt in anticipation, waiting for the moment we could actually dance.
Round tables draped in ruby linens and crowned with snow-bright centrepieces brimmed with conversation. Dark gowns and velvet vests dominated the room, which only made me stand out more.
When I had first tried on the pale blue dress, it had mirrored Caedmon’s eyes, and that was why I had chosen it. However, beneath the ballroom lights, the silk deepened into turquoise. It didn’t matter. There were not many things that could mimic his eye colour.
The absence of sleeves made it easier to dance, and the thin straps left my clavicle bare in a way that kept drawing Caedmon’s attention. He didn’t bother to hide it.
“You should really be more aware of your expression,” I murmured after the last guest had greeted us.
“I’m trying,” he said, “but I seem incapable with that dress on you. I asked Cerridwen to hurry this along so we can be done with it.”
“So romantic,” I quipped.
I took my fill of him as well. His vest also attempted to match his eyes, layered over a white shirt.
“I was thinking of a more private celebration,” he murmured. “Fewer people. Far fewer clothes. We could give an entirely new meaning to Lord of Filth.”
Heat warmed my face, and my soon-to-be bonded chuckled. I cursed him colourfully in my head as another cluster of guests swept past us, briefly bowing their heads.
It wasn’t all for laughs with Caedmon. There was a side of him that wanted privacy, that resented having every fragment of his life scrutinised and made public. A part of him that was tired of performing, of being something rather than simply being.
Yet with me, he had the freedom to just be himself.
As was their tradition, we remained apart from the guests, greeting the newcomers for the first part of the ceremony.
“You both look very impatient,” Gwin said as she approached, her crimson dress doing an excellent job of concealing the dagger somewhere on her.
Her eyes flicked to the top of my head. She stepped closer, brushed a loose strand from my forehead.
“You’ll want the hair out of your face soon.
Barracus said the Druid Matron just arrived. Malory is with her.”
For three weeks after the ambush, Gwinifer had barely left my side, taking the role of my personal escort. I appreciated it, as the memories of the Scion mansion were still fresh and haunting. What had happened to me had stirred an old wound in her.
“Should we go to her now?” I asked.
Druid Maelthine was the ceremonialist who would officiate the rite.
From what I’d learned, Druid Matrons were elder mageborn women who devoted their lives to mastering some of their sacred rituals.
They presided over ceremonies, especially those that called for the blessing of the original mageborn they prayed to.
“Cerridwen will come fetch you,” Gwin replied. “You sure you don’t want to bail?”
Her words were enough to ruffle Caedmon. He turned a scathing look at his sister, and his ward closed around me.
“You don’t want to make these jokes today,” I told her. “He’s sensitive.”
“Oh, I know,” she said, chuckling away.
Based on Caed’s low groan, the company that followed wasn’t better. The Elven Lords chose that moment to approach.
They were impossible to miss, dressed in bright colours that cut through the darker, embroidered gowns favoured by the other guests. Iqbal drank in the sight of Caedmon in a way that made my teeth grind.
Our allies had arrived not only to celebrate, but also to press us for support in their representation within the courts. They had waited a full week after the ambush to send their letter of requests.
“We came to offer our wishes for your love, Mage Lord, Mage Lady,” Iqbal said.
“May peace endure between our lands,” Eldar added, his eyes flicking between us.
“I’m sure it will,” Reagan replied curtly, almost dismissively.
“Thank you for coming,” I said, already bracing myself.
When Eldar spoke again, his voice had lowered. “We have been awaiting word from you. Understandably, you have been occupied. Still, some interesting stories have reached us of late. Stories we believe you would wish to hear.”
“Do any of these stories involve an imminent threat tonight?” Reagan asked. “Because if not, we can discuss them next week.”
“Or in two days,” I added. “If you believe they cannot wait.”
“They can,” Iqbal said, amused. “We are happy to allow the Mage Lord a week to enjoy his newly bonded before informing you of the stirrings surrounding a new head among the superior brand of mana wielders.”
“New head?” I repeated.
“Yes,” Reagan said, his tone clipped. “I would very much like to not discuss that particular brand today.”
Iqbal inspected his fingernails. “We’ll leave you to it, then. But be watchful of the dreadful Wraiths.”
My blood iced over. Caedmon loosened an angry sigh.
Eldar inclined his head, and once they moved on, I leaned closer. “Have you heard anything?”
Caedmon dipped his head slightly, his attention already shifting to other figures approaching. “A few rumours from the outposts.”
“I thought we were free of Wraiths,” I murmured.
With the wards newly reinforced and nearly impenetrable, stray Wraiths were unheard of within Mountheim’s protections. If one was found at all, it would be spotted quickly by the patrollers and permanently ended.
“They’ll always be a problem, like the creatures in the Northern Forest,” he said. “They always crawl out of some hole and multiply. But I really didn’t want to tell you today of all days.”
“Then you should have told me yesterday,” I said softly for the sake of the guests, though I knew he would hear my displeasure beneath it. “What else?”
Arun came into view, with Maith and Anife flanking him.
Caed turned to me, a wicked grin tugging at his mouth. “Aren’t you going to threaten me for it?”
“I thought I didn’t have to anymore,” I said lightly, “but maybe I will just ask Arun.”
His expression soured and rearranged itself with impressive speed. Caedmon lifted two fingers toward the approaching elves, asking them to wait.
“I thought you knew better than to make these kinds of jokes today,” he murmured.
I found myself reining in a smile. “Then tell me quickly.”
“Of course, Jane love,” Caedmon said. “You were somewhat occupied today, so Finn only had time to tell me. He returned from the Healers’ Hall in the city.
One of the captives we rescued is hybrid-born.
She told Finn she knew about an advocate group before she was captured. They stood against the Order.”
My mouth fell open.
A thousand questions surged at once. I wanted to know who she was. How long she had been under the Order’s hold. And how many others she might lead us to.
Barely two months had passed since the arrest of Giddeon Madden in his unregistered mansion in Ashenagth, where forty-seven humans and hybrids had been forced into servitude. Every Scion present that day had been sent to Pavilion.
After nearly a decade, this was the closest thing to justice Reagan would ever have for his parents. Still, he had found some measure of closure. Without him, Mountheim might have fallen into the hands of Sable Ilya or his son.
Which made the Order leader’s final words ring louder now. Caedmon had warned me this would happen, that the empty seat would be filled quickly. Perhaps now we’ve found someone who could connect us with advocacy circles.
“Now please, love. Can we speak of this next week?” he asked.
I nodded, and with a final look at me, Caed gestured for the waiting guests to approach.
“Congratulations,” Anife said, her orange gown sparkling even more brightly than her brother’s.
Maith followed, clearly scanning the room for Finn, her raisin-purple skin glowing beneath red chiffon.
Arun wore white and silver, matching his hair. “I came to give my gratitude for the battle mages stationed in Banfgaard,” he said, his gaze passing Caed only to settle on me. “We were surprised by how many chose to relocate.”
“We look after our allies,” Caedmon replied. When Arun's gaze remained on me, a warning edge entered Caed’s voice. “And we are clear about what that alliance includes. And what it doesn’t.”
"I’m painfully aware of what it doesn’t include, My Lord," Arun replied, finally facing him.
“Are you?” Caedmon asked lowly.
In Banfgaard, I had told Arun there was nothing between Caedmon and me. The look he gave me now might have been resentment for the lie, or suspicion about our last conversation. It didn’t matter. He had no knowledge of the truth-telling relic, and I owed him nothing.
Besides, we were in Mountheim, and I was about to become its Lady. They were the ones who should be measuring their words.
“I believe that makes our position clear,” I said, meeting Arun’s gaze. “Enjoy your evening.”
With a brief hesitation at the dismissal, Arun guided Anife away, and my attention drifted to Maith trailing behind them.
I followed her gaze to the balcony, where Finnegan stood laughing, eyebrows waggling as though he had just said something to Joy, Astrid and Gwinifer.
My sister’s strawberry hair was pinned high, her posture relaxed beside them.
The sight made me want to smile.
“He is bold, I’ll give him that,” Reagan muttered once we were alone, tugging at the collar of his shirt as if the room had suddenly grown too warm. His eyes were still locked on the back of Arun’s head.