17. And for the Lady, Perhaps An Aphrodisiac
And for the Lady, Perhaps An Aphrodisiac
Wearing a finer dress than she had ever worn, Cypress emerged from her rooms once more. A lively, jaunty tune already vibrated the halls.
Infectious laughter roared from the lips of revelers.
The aromas drifting from the kitchens made Cypress’s stomach rumble as she retraced her steps back toward the throne room.
The dress she wore had so much of the iridescent, sage green fabric that Cypress had to hike it up in order to descend the stairs safely.
The bodice of the gown was tight around her breasts and ribs, tied at her shoulders with thick velvet bows.
The skirts flowed from her waist, accentuating the cut of her rib.
The worst part of the gown was the dainty straps that put her biceps on display in a way she was wholly unaccustomed to.
A crown of delicate vines was woven across her brow with a single rough-cut olivine stone set in the center. Similar gems were around Cypress’s throat and at her ears. The effect the ensemble had on her was indescribable. She felt as if–for once– she truly looked, and felt like a Lady.
When at Caelith’s Keep, mingling amongst the Ladies in something like this would have gotten her mercilessly tormented. The ladies of Caelith’s court were some of the cruelest people Cypress had ever encountered, if she were being honest. Cruel and hateful in ways Cypress could not fathom.
When she reached her destination, the throne room was full of bodies, and wine flowed freely. Servants wandered the room with trays laden with small finger foods and fruit, as well as glasses of wine, while others held an unfamiliar deep-blue liquid.
And no one paid her muscled arms a second glance.
Cypress spotted Torren easily, standing at the edge of a mezzanine, now wearing a dark, floral-embroidered coat and pants, his entire chest and stomach bare.
Gold shimmered over his skin, and he now wore a crown of antlers, the points arcing around either side of his head.
On anyone else, the crown would look ridiculous.
On Torren, the Prince of Faerie… The effect was… Commanding.
Cypress aimed for Torren, ducking around Fair Folk dancing to the beat of the music.
“Ah, Lady Cypress has joined us!” Torren said when he noticed her approach, drawing the eye of several people surrounding him, who nodded their heads in her direction.
“This is… quite the celebration,” Cypress said rather than scold him for the continued use of Lady Cypress.
“I told you, we love to love in Faerie.”
“I didn’t realize that meant you loved… well, all of this,” Cypress said, holding her arms out to indicate the festivities behind her. Even she knew that the real party hadn’t even begun.
“Don’t tell me you don’t like parties, Lass?” Torren said, pulling her arm into the crook of his elbow. Then, he led her toward a long table at the front of the room.
“Would you blame me if I said I didn’t?”
“Now, why would a pretty thing like you not enjoy parties? Is it because you threaten all your suitors' manhoods before they even ask you for a dance?” Torren asked, humor lining his every word.
Cypress elbowed him. “No, you shit. I always had to pay attention at parties. Captain, remember?”
“Yes, I remember. So you had to watch everything but never interact?”
“Essentially, yes.”
“You poor, deprived Lass. Come, sit. We’ll make sure you have fun this evening.”
“I wasn’t asking,” Cypress began, but Torren cut her off.
“Neither was I, Lass. I won’t be having you stay in my kingdom as a guest and leave one of my parties feeling as if you didn’t enjoy yourself,” he said, and pushed Cypress into an ornate, high-backed chair with deep green checkered cushions.
“You’re insufferable, you know that?”
“Consider it part of my charm,” Torren shot back, a grin plastered across his lips.
Cypress narrowed her eyes at him, but didn’t have the opportunity to continue their verbal spar.
Torren gently rapped his spoon against the side of his glass and held it aloft.
Instantly, the sound echoed throughout the throne room as people struck their glasses in unison and turned to look at the high table.
“Welcome, everyone! It is marvelous to be home once more,” Torren began, bowing slightly to his people.
“I want to personally thank each of you who have opened your homes to those who have needed it with the recent raids on settlements within the human lands. And, as always, A’aravos Paravale remains open to those in need.
“But, enough of that for now. I have just learned that my new friend, Lady Cypress,” Torren said and gestured with a hand to where Cypress sat next to him.
“-- has never truly enjoyed herself at a ball! Let's make sure to show my new friend a good time, hmm?”
Torren’s claim was met with raucous applause.
Cypress wanted to drop a flickering flame onto Torren's lap. She’d never been so angry with him as he continued to speak.
She’d only just convinced Athima to refer to her by name. And now, Cypress would have to endure her false title for the rest of the party.
“Let us begin!” Torren shouted and clapped his hands twice.
Servants of every type of Fair Folk she had ever thought of emerged from doorways moments later, carrying trays laden with a veritable smorgasbord of items.
Quickly and efficiently, dinners were laid on tables, and drinks were poured into cups. When a servant arrived in front of Cypress and Torren with two jugs of deep blue and pinkish liquids, she offered her wares to Torren first, with a respectful bow of her head.
“What would you like to drink this evening, Sir?”
“The Pixie wine, please,” Torren replied from his seat, chin placed in his palm.
“Of course, sir. And for the lady?”
“What are my options?”
“Pixie wine, or fire vine juice,” the servant said with a small smile.
“I’ll take the wine,” Cypress said, nodding her thanks to the servant when she was done filling her glass.
Now equipped with wine– the first on the list of arsenal she’d need to deal with the rest of the night, Cypress turned to clink glasses with Torren. “Here’s to having fun,” she said, smiling lightly.
“You know, there is something you should be aware of with that wine, Lass,” Torren said after he raised his cup and clinked it softly against hers.
“What’s that?”
“Pixie wine is an aphrodisiac to Fair Folk. It makes our more… let’s say baser instincts come to the surface.”
“Why does that matter for me?” Cypress asked, and then took a delicate sip. The wine was sweet, but not overly so. The flavor burst over her tongue, warming her down to her toes as it settled in her stomach. She licked her lips, careful to capture any stray drop.
Torren tracked the movement, mercurial gray eyes bouncing back to hers after a moment. “I thought you should be aware, since it is likely one of my people will make a pass at you at some point this evening.”
“But the wine’s more potent effects won't be a problem for me?” Cypress asked and took another sip.
The heady spice of the wine made her feel as if she were gambling with every beat of her heart. It was a thrill that rivaled the moments before her lance made contact and sent her opponent flying off their horse.
Torren swallowed thickly, then took a sip from his glass. “No, for a human it is merely wine. An expensive, quite strong draught, but wine nonetheless.”
Cypress hummed and nodded her head. “Thank you for the warning, Prince.”
Torren grunted, then drained half of his glass in one long gulp. Then, he lifted his utensils and set upon his entree with vigor.
Torren’s plate was full of root vegetables and a rack of ribs, though from what type of animal she couldn’t say. Platters were strewn across tables, laden with fruits in every conceivable color.
Cypress’s plate was similarly piled nearly as high as Torren's, though with a few items not found on the Prince’s plate. In addition to the rack of ribs artfully arranged, several bite-sized arrangements of other meats were placed around the outer rim of Cypress’s plate.
When she cut into the large piece of meat, her knife barely met any resistance. It melted in her mouth, practically dissolving into butter on her tongue. The vegetables were all impeccably cooked and seasoned with herbs she couldn’t name.
Shame coated Cypress’s tongue as she slowly came to realize she had begun this adventure with grossly incorrect assumptions about Faerie, the Wylds, and the Fair Folk. And, she supposed she also had to come to terms with the undeniable bias she held toward Cade, Queen Henrietta, and King Caelith.
But, for tonight, she would put all of that aside and just enjoy the evening of revelry, the calm before the true storm.
Truly, it had been a terribly long time since Cypress had attended any one of the numerous balls and functions hosted at the Keep and did anything other than watch every single move made within proximity to Prince Cade.
Cypress ate her food, watching the revelry unfolding before her. The musicians had changed songs, opting for a more danceable tune on lyres and flutes. It was as if even the wildlife shifted and swayed with the beat, butterflies and birds flitting through the rafters.
Birdsong amplified the music, and it felt as if Cypress was in the midst of the forest, not in the middle of the castle’s throne room.
Now that Cypress was aware of the nature of the palace, she realized that she was, in a way, in the middle of the forest.
A’aravos Paravale was not only inhabited by Fair Folk, but by a Dryaad. A guardian spirit of the Wylds.
“How come you didn’t tell me that the palace was a tree? Or that it had a guardian?” Cypress asked some time after she finished her food, wine nearly gone.
Torren turned away from the conversation he was having with a pale pink Faerie, whose iridescent wings were held aloft behind her, shimmering with dust.
His cheeks were flushed, lids lowered over storm grey eyes. “I didn’t think you would be interested, Lass.”
She gave him a flat look. “Really.”