16. Ellowyn
Chapter 16
Ellowyn
T he afternoon between Lord d’Refan’s arrival and the ball, which would bleed into my Awakening Ceremony, passed slowly. I paced my room endlessly as I stewed over my mother’s earlier warning.
Why now? Why didn’t I have this information earlier? Why wouldn’t Lord d’Refan take notice of me? And, more strangely, why did he take notice of me?
The more I paced and puzzled, the less everything made sense. By itself, the warning was innocuous. But the illegal presence of the Keeper, my troubled dreams, and my parents’ increasingly strange behavior all created a picture that I couldn’t see fully, and I had a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach. Not even reading or reciting facts about my potential suitors eased the tense ball in my chest or the headache blooming behind my eyes.
By the time Pip and Jaclyn returned to dress me for the ceremony, my thoughts were more muddled than ever. I walked about in a daze, stiffly going through the motions of getting dressed for the ball, not really paying attention to what was happening. The urge to run and hide from everything was high, and I longed to escape what was inevitably going to be a charged and tense affair.
All too soon, Jaclyn finished my hair—an elaborate updo with cascading curls and pins that shone with an ethereal light, seemingly of their own accord—and applied the last of my makeup with a flourish.
“All done, miss,” she said as she stepped away from the mirror. I finally let my gaze focus on the image in front of me.
I still hated the dress—the poofy monstrosity that looked more like a wedding topper than anything else—but I had to admit that my makeup and hair were flawless. The grays and blacks on my lids contrasted with the pure white of my dress, making me feel much older than I was, and I silently thanked Kana for her advice on how to feel like me in this dress and less like my mother’s show pony. My hair absolutely shone tonight, the blonde hue almost matching that of my dress.
“Thank you, Jaclyn.” I gave her a kind smile. It wasn’t her fault that my mother picked a horrid dress for tonight.
She shot me a quick smile in return before helping me rise and walk to the door of my room just as a soft knock sounded from the other side.
“Come in,” I called.
The door swung open to reveal Peytor dressed in the finest tunic, pants, and overcoat I had ever seen him wear, even finer than what he wore to his own Awakening Ceremony. The fabric stretched tight across his large arms and chest, showing how much my brother had grown into a man. His outfit was in tones of Hestin’s colors—deep forest green and lily white—which contrasted well with my dress and his chestnut hair. His hair was roughly styled, and he looked every inch the heir of Hestin tonight.
What is with all the theatrics for my Awakening ?
“Ell! You look . . .” His mouth was nearly on the floor as his eyes roamed over my dress, his expression morphing from incredulity to hilarity and back again.
“Hideous? Like a cake? Like an excessive amount of candy floss?” I supplied when his statement continued to hang in the air.
Peytor tried to cover up a sudden laugh with his hand and failed miserably. “I was going to go the nice route with ‘a princess,’ but I’m finding I’m rather partial to candy floss.”
I smacked his shoulder. “This was not my choice, I’ll have you know! I look hideous! No one is going to take me seriously in this! I look like a child my mother dressed up!” I hissed, nearly toppling over as I leaned toward him. Peytor’s hands reached out to steady me as laughter fell freely from his lips.
“Stop that!” Jaclyn called from the room. While she was a servant, she was Mother’s servant and her words carried weight. Inevitably, anything we said today would be reported back to Mother.
Oh well, I’ll deal with her disappointment and wrath tomorrow, which will undoubtedly come in the form of “how to write a proper thank you card” or some other lesson.
Peytor wiped his eyes as he fought to contain his mirth, a few wayward chuckles still appearing. I crossed my arms and pursed my lips.
“Are you quite finished?”
He wiped his eyes once more before taking a breath and composing himself. “You sounded like Mother.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, well, you would too if you were stuck in this monstrosity and had to entertain suitors for hours while also watching what you said. All. Night. Long.”
“You got that talk too, then?” He sobered immediately. I gave him one curt nod as he took my arm in his, leading me down the hallway and out of our private suites. The night’s festivities would occur in the formal ballroom. Mother always planned everything to the most minute detail, including the timing of my “grand entrance.”
Gag .
Peytor and I would enter after all the guests were in the ballroom, something that had clearly already occurred as we were able to walk through the manor in relative quiet, not a soul to be seen.
While we’d grown up attending high-society functions and parties, I’d never attended one so grand and ostentatious, let alone one just for me. The thought of the attention made my stomach drop and I clung a bit harder to Peytor. Somehow, he knew—he always did—and he squeezed my arm in encouragement.
Peytor pulled my head from my thoughts. “I, luckily, don’t have to dance with the Warlord.”
I gasped at the blatant and flippant use of the derogatory name the rebels used for Lord d’Refan, but Peytor continued speaking like it was nothing.
“So, hopefully, if I keep myself distracted with booze, food, and women, I’ll be able to avoid him all night.”
I shot him a look.
“Don’t call Lord d’Refan that . . . name. We’re allied with him, and if he hears you call him that . . .” I shuddered at the implication and felt him tense under my hand before rolling his eyes. When it was clear he wasn’t going to respond, I continued, “And I’m not sure Finian will appreciate you being occupied with women, Peytor.”
“No, he won’t. But it’s expected of both of us and is a role we must fill”—his eyes met mine—“tonight especially. And you let me worry about Lord d’Refan, sister.”
I squeezed his arm affectionately as we descended the stairs. I sympathized with my brother. I’d never had the opportunity to feel for someone what he clearly feels for Finian, and I’m not sure what I would do if I were in his place. I sighed at the travesty of it all. It really seemed like they were going to be forced apart for one reason or another, and I didn’t envy his future, especially if Finian wasn’t in it.
We spent the remainder of our walk in silence, our footsteps echoing in the empty halls. Everyone was either at the ball or preparing for the party, so our home was relatively empty. All too soon, we reached the corridor that housed the formal ballroom, the elaborate doors at the end were flanked by a variety of guards and butlers. I quickly scanned and saw both our house guards and that of Lord d’Refan, though only one of the Mages from earlier today was standing outside. I reckoned the others were posted around the ballroom.
Peytor stopped walking and pulled me to face him before placing his hands on my shoulders.
“If you need a break tonight, come find me,” he said, voice serious but soft.
I smiled tightly at him. “Thank you, Peytor. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“Hope is sometimes foolish, Ell. It’s better to be practical.” His voice was sad, and I couldn’t help but think that he was speaking more about his own troubles than about tonight’s party. I softly cupped his cheek before kissing the opposite.
I dropped my hands at the same time he dropped his from my shoulders, and I grabbed them before squeezing in loving solidarity.
“I will enter first, then Max will let you know when it’s your turn.”
“Okay, Peytor,” I sighed, “let’s get this over with.”
Peytor gave me one last searching look before dropping my hands fully and striding to the doors. He gave a curt nod to Max before facing forward, his own version of armor perfectly in place. Tonight, he would be the heir of Hestin, the perpetual bachelor looking for the next Lady of Hestin.
I slowly approached the doors after they closed behind Peytor, waiting for my turn and slowly donning my own armor.
I straightened my spine, elevating my chin slightly. My hands clasped my gown on each side, pulling it up off the floor an increment so I could walk without tripping. I would be guarded tonight; still sunny and kind, but guarded. I loved my family fiercely and would do what was necessary to protect them, even if it meant lying to the most powerful man in Elyria. One who’d taken a keen interest in me this morning. I shuddered at the memory of his gaze before pushing all thoughts of Lord d’Refan aside.
It was my birthday, after all, and I deserved a bit of fun.
I took deep steadying breaths before nodding to Max. I was as ready as I would ever be.
“Let’s give the wolves what they want,” I said lowly, and one of the guards coughed a laugh. I smiled slightly, my nerves easing a touch at the brief humor.
Though, that feeling quickly evaporated as the doors opened.