17. Ellowyn
Chapter 17
Ellowyn
A crier called for attention from the guests milling about the expansive space while I stood frozen in the doorway, greedily drinking in the details of the room. My mother, for all her flaws and faults, had a superior eye for parties and the ambiance that came with high-society events. The normally dark ballroom was awash in white—long, gauzy curtains draped from the ridiculously high ceiling all the way to the floor and billowed softly in a Mage-manufactured breeze. That breeze only affected the curtains, and luckily so, because there were thousands of candles that floated in the air, which provided the only light for the night. The dark stone floor seemed to sparkle, and the contrast against the white curtains was stunning. Dozens of long tables lined the outskirts of the room, framing an open dance floor that housed the majority of guests as they mingled and flirted. Conversation ebbed and flowed, a cacophony of laughs and the buzz of voices floating through the space.
My family joined them for the time being, but there was a shorter head table directly across from the ballroom entrance where we would all sit tonight. Normally my father would occupy the middle of the table, but that honor seemed to be reserved for Lord d’Refan and I. My father’s chair was already occupied by the visiting lord, his eyes trained on me, and my mother’ s normal chair—my spot for the evening—was swathed in the same white gauze that hung from the ceiling.
The whole image took my breath away, and I was suddenly incredibly grateful for my mother’s planning. I took two deep, calming breaths, careful to keep my features schooled yet inviting.
The ballroom quieted, the buzz of conversation dying at once, and everyone turned to look at me as the crier announced my arrival. “Lords and ladies, please welcome tonight’s guest of honor, Miss Ellowyn d’Aelius!”
A polite smattering of applause broke out as the guests nearest to me fell into curtsies and bows. I inclined my head and was relieved to see Peytor moving through the crowd toward me. Mother may have trained me in the expected etiquette and my responsibilities for the night, but I was completely helpless at the front of the room.
Do I wait for someone to escort me? Do I move myself?
Thankfully Peytor took the decision out of my hands. He bowed once he reached me, and I curtsied in return, both of us playing our parts. There was still a smattering of applause as Peytor took my arm and led me to the middle of the open dance floor. I smiled at guests as we slowly strolled to our positions. We fell into a quick-paced dance as the applause quieted, but I felt the presence of power the entire time I was guided by Peytor. Without looking, I knew who was watching my every move. It appeared that Lord d’Refan’s earlier fixation carried over to this evening, much to Peytor’s annoyance, if his muttered curses about the lord were anything to go by.
I couldn’t decide if I was completely unnerved or wildly pleased by the thought of Lord d’Refan staring at me, of all people. As Peytor and I danced, I mentally guarded myself for the rest of the night—being in the same space as Lord d’Refan put me enough on edge. But the thought of sitting next to him for the entirety of the meal and the presentation of my suitors nearly sent me fleeing back to the safety of my rooms, and I felt my palms slick at the thought.
The dance with Peytor was over all too soon, and we bowed to each other before he escorted me to our seats at the table. The milling guests seemed to take that as their cue as they, too, took their seats at the long tables surrounding the room. I quickly glanced about as I took my seat, fluffing my skirts so they wouldn’t bunch under me as I sat, and noticed even more of the black-outfitted Mages lining the exterior of the room.
Where had they all come from?
Lord d’Refan clearly brought more than just a handful of Mages with him on this trip. I understood the need for protection, but something about the blatant show of power set my teeth on edge, and I fiddled with my hands beneath the table.
If the General is as powerful as the waves of power indicate, why does he need so many guards?
I was shaken from my thoughts when a hand gently touched my arm from my left. I quickly turned my head and was met with Lord d’Refan’s pitch-black gaze, stunningly still again.
Maybe the shaky eyes were a nervous tick?
“You look absolutely stunning this evening, Ellowyn. White is very becoming on you. It complements your innocence nicely.” He smiled and ran his hand over the collar of my dress. I involuntarily shivered at his touch. The word “innocence” seemed to have a double meaning as he said it, and I shifted in my seat. The comment made me feel dirty and I inched a bit to my right.
Swallowing my discomfort, I gave him a tight-lipped smile with a bow of my head.
“Thank you, Lord d’Refan. Your ensemble matches your eyes and hair quite well.” Lord d’Refan barked a laugh before removing his hand from my neck. I wasn’t sure the reason for the laugh, it really was a nicely tailored black tunic and pair of pants. Aside from the small golden circlet he wore on his brow, there were no other adornments on his body. I caught a glimpse of his General sitting to his left and noticed that they wore the same outfit, the only difference was their mark of station. I simultaneously found the similarities endearing and odd.
“You are quite something, Ellowyn. And please, call me Alois. All my friends do, and I would like to be friends, wouldn’t you?” His voice was silky smooth, his charm disarming.
Father doesn’t call him Alois.
Warning bells rang in my head, and I nodded rather than risk replying. I feared anything I said would be seen immediately as a falsehood.
Luckily our conversation was cut short as my father sent a light gust of wind across the room, carrying a whisper of silence with it. Conversation died and all eyes turned to me once more. My father stood from the table with a smile. As I watched him, I caught my mother’s eye from my father’s right. Her eyes were trained on Lord d’Refan with an alarming intensity. I sent her what I hoped was a small smile of confidence, one she didn’t return, and I turned my gaze back to Father.
“Lords and ladies, friends and allies, thank you for attending this most momentous and happy occasion as my only daughter turns twenty-five.” His voice was loud and carried easily through the space even without the use of his Air Magic. He set a hand on my shoulder as he spoke, his voice warm and his touch reassuring. “Tonight, my daughter will have her Awakening Ceremony and she will finally come of age. Many of you are anxious to see her power, I am sure, as are we all! But I know many of you are more excited about the prospect of uniting your house with ours. Tonight, I, along with Lord d’Refan, will entertain suitors for my daughter’s hand in marriage.”
There was a “hear, hear!” somewhere in the crowd, and a titter of laughter followed, which my father copied. He squeezed my shoulder in comfort, and I relaxed. While I knew the betrothal process was important, not just for my family but for the entirety of the Northern Territories, I also knew that my father wouldn’t betroth me to a man I hated. I had the ultimate say in who I ended up with, as did Peytor, which was unheard of in Elyrian high society. It was a blessing and a comfort—one I knew fueled the whispers of gossip throughout the North.
“Maybe we’ll also find a match for my son, eh?” he jested as he leaned down the table to make eye contact with Peytor, who was seated next to Finian. Peytor simply smiled and raised his glass in acknowledgment before tossing back the contents. Another round of laughs followed his actions; Peytor’s perpetual bachelorhood was legendary in the northern part of Elyria. The crowd quieted again as my father picked up his glass in his right hand and held it aloft. “We are most grateful for, and incredibly honored by, the presence of Lord d’Refan tonight. We’re not sure what Hestin did to catch your eye, Lord d’Refan, but we are grateful nonetheless.” No one else could hear the strain in my father’s words, but there was something lurking beneath the surface that caused my heart to beat in my throat. He tightened his grip on my shoulder before raising his glass to Lord d’Refan and bowing his head .
The guests followed suit with a chorus of “Lord d’Refan!” The crowd quieted again, and my father continued his speech.
“Enough of the formalities! Let us drink and dance! Tonight is a celebration and I intend to make it so. But first, a prayer and a toast to my daughter.” Everyone bowed their heads in supplication, expecting this show of faith from my father. “Fate, Kaos, Solace. We ask for your guidance and blessings today of all days as Ellowyn Awakens. We ask that you guide her as she walks into her power and keep her safe. Please guide the right person for Ellowyn to step forward tonight, and for us to know what is right. Balance in all things,” he ended the prayer, and the guests murmured the ending back.
“Ellowyn, happy birthday sweetheart,” he concluded and kissed the top of my head before knocking back his drink. There was a loud echoing chorus of “Ellowyn!” before my father said, “Now, let us eat!”
With a clap of his hands, projected into a booming echo by his Air Magic, our servants emerged from a multitude of doors carrying hundreds of trays filled with all sorts of delicious treats. I was glad that my parents decided to forgo the extremely formal multiple-course dinner, as this was more my style. Servants swept from behind our table, placing platters of roasted quail, a creamed soup, and roasted vegetables in gravy. The smell wafting from the cooking made my stomach growl loudly, and I hoped the chatter and clinking of silverware against plates disguised the noise.
Lord d’Refan chuckled softly to my left, which, in turn, caused my cheeks to pink in embarrassment. Damn my pale skin.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him reach for the food scattered about us, and I reflexively did the same.
“Relax, let me serve you,” he said. “If I don’t, a mountain cat might spring from your belly. Though I didn’t know they ventured this far south.”
If I didn’t know better, I would think he was flirting with me.
“Are you flirting with me, Lord d’Refan?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.
He chuckled again, a deep rich thing, as he dished a heaping serving of quail and vegetables onto both of our plates. He didn’t skimp on my portion like my mother would have desired, and I appreciated that he recognized that, while I was a woman, I could eat as much as any man. It was a subtle gesture, and one so at odds with the man my parents had described .
I turned to him fully. He began cutting into his quail before answering my question that bordered on an accusation.
“Ellowyn, if I was flirting with you, you would know.”
My cheeks pinked again in further embarrassment. I felt like a child in a room full of adults. I couldn’t even tell when a man was flirting with me.
Dammit for not having any life experiences .
Chagrined, I quietly turned back to my food, delicately cutting into my quail.
“If I was flirting with you, I would say something about how your dress is covering up all of the most interesting parts of your body,” he said offhandedly as he placed a forkful of quail and carrots in his mouth. The General scoffed and unsubtly rolled his eyes.
My fork and knife squeaked across my plate as I jolted at his words. I heard a quiet “Ellowyn!” from my mother but I ignored her chastisement.
A zing of arousal shot through my body at the same moment as a wave of embarrassment.
Why was he saying those things to me?
“Relax, child. You’re too young for either of us,” the General said with an undertone of disdain.
I was hardly a child. Just because I was twenty-five and just Awakening didn’t mean that I was a child , for gods’ sake.
I shot my eyes to him, but his stayed glued to the food on his plate. He cut and ate with extreme precision, no movement wasted, as if the meal was simply sustenance and nothing more. I glared at the side of his head, Lord d’Refan continuing his dinner as if nothing had transpired between any of us.
Just as I was about to say something that would inevitably earn me a harsh reprimand from Mother, a soft cough brought my attention back to the floor in front of our table. There stood a relatively handsome, albeit young, man with an older gentleman who I quickly determined was his father. The likeliness in their russet-colored hair and slightly hooked noses was uncanny. I sat my cutlery down in respect, focusing my full attention on the two men.
“Miss Ellowyn,” the older man said in a smooth voice, “I am Lord d’Leocopus of Lishahl, and this is my son, Praetor.” Both men sank into bows, and I inclined my head politely .
“Lord d’Leocopus! We thought you weren’t able to attend!” my father’s voice boomed from next to me.
Lord d’Leocopus inclined his head toward my father before continuing. “We had a slight...change in schedule.” My father grunted a sound of agreement and the group fell silent. Praetor shifted on his feet; his gaze trained firmly on the ground.
“Well,” I said after a minute, “thank you both for attending my birthday and Awakening Ceremony. Your presence is greatly appreciated.” I turned to go back to my dinner, praying that this incredibly awkward exchange was over.
“MissEllowynI’dliketostatemyintentionofbecomingbetrothedtoyou,” Praetor blurted. All his words blended together, and I could barely understand what he said. I frowned and shook my head slightly.
“Sorry, I didn’t catch that. Would you mind repeating yourself?”
Lord d’Refan was shaking with silent laughter to my left and my father and even Peytor seemed to be joining in on his mirth. Praetor’s ears turned a shade of red that almost matched his hair before taking a breath and trying again.
“Miss Ellowyn, I would like to state my intention of becoming betrothed to you,” Praetor finally eked out. He still couldn’t look me in the eye.
I gave him a soft smile. “Well, that’s incredibly kind, thank you, Praetor.”
I kicked my father under the table and shot Peytor a look that spelled death in an attempt to quiet their chuckles. I avoided touching Lord d’Refan at all costs.
“Lies,” he whispered in my ear. I closed my eyes.
Shoot. I forgot about the Truthsaying thing .
“Lord d’Leocopus and . . . Praetor, was it?” Lord d’Refan spoke before my father could. His demeanor instantly changed from one of relaxed composure to one of vibrating intensity. Here was the Lord d’Refan everyone feared.
Both men turned to the predator in the room and quickly gave deep bows.
“Lord d’Refan. Yes, this is my son, Praetor. The alliance of our territory to Hestin would be beneficial for all involved, yourself especially, don’t you think?” I sucked in a breath at his words. Either Lord d’Leocopus was brave or incredibly dumb .
Lord d’Refan leaned forward on his elbows and Lord d’Leocopus stepped back.
Not dumb, then .
“What would benefit me, Lord d’Leocopus,” his tone was lethal, and he practically spat the man’s name at him, “would be for you to pay for the twelve hundred pounds of wheat you stole from my collection carriages.”
The room had gone silent during the exchange, all conversation halted, even the clinking of forks and knives was absent, and all eyes were turned toward Lord d’Refan and his prey.
“I . . . I-I don’t know what you’re speaking of!”
“Lies,” Lord d’Refan hissed, “would you like to try again?” The power coming off Lord d’Refan was intoxicating. I saw the General tense next to him, his hand reaching into his right pocket to grasp something.
Crystals , I realized. The General uses crystals to access his power. Why doesn’t he have a Vessel?
Lord d’Leocopus blanched, his already pale skin turning a deathly shade of white as his eyes shot from Lord d’Refan to the General and even to my father, but he quickly realized he’d receive no help from him. Praetor started to inch away from his father, seeming to understand that things were not going to end well.
“Well, I didn’t steal them, my lord, if that’s what you’re insinuating. It was taken by a band of unruly citizens and hidden somewhere in the city!” He clutched his hands together, the knuckles as white as his face.
Lord d’Refan cocked his head at the man in front of him and I felt the waves of power lessen slightly. I took what felt like the first breath in forever, and saw a few guests visibly relax as well.
“See to it that they are returned to me, yes? By the end of the moon, Lord d’Leocopus,” Lord d’Refan declared as he eased back into his seat.
Lord d’Leocopus sputtered a string of words that were simultaneously a profuse apology and deep thanks. They bowed once more to all of us before attempting to scurry back to their seats.
“Oh, and Praetor?” Lord d’Refan called lazily. The d’Leocopus men stopped in their tracks, not daring to turn around. “Consider your proposal denied.”
Praetor bowed once more before the two men practically ran back to their table. Conversation slowly started again as it appeared there would be no more theatrics for the night.
“A band of unruly citizens commanded by his hand, maybe,” the General muttered and Lord d’Refan agreed.
“Yes. But it wasn’t a full lie nor a full truth, Rohak.”
Rohak grunted in response. “I’m going to check in with the Mages,” he said as he pushed back his chair to patrol the edges of the ballroom.
I ate a piece of cold quail as I watched his retreating back.
“Is he always like this?” I asked Lord d’Refan.
“A grumpy asshole? Unfortunately, yes,” he replied, but there was affection in his voice despite his caustic words.
Much of the dinner passed in the same way. A variety of lords and their sons came to present themselves as betrothal candidates, and Lord d’Refan found fault in each and every one. By the third one he denied, I stopped even paying attention to who was approaching and, instead, focused on other things happening around the room.
I watched Dria approach my brother on no less than three occasions, each time her dress fell a little farther down her chest, exposing more of her ample breasts. My brother feigned interest, flirting with the women who approached, but the random clenching of his hand and jaw indicated that he took little enjoyment in it all. At one point, Finian excused himself from the table completely, undoubtedly needing to distance himself from the whole debacle.
“We will be rejecting your son’s proposal on those grounds, Lord d’Lessia.” I rolled my eyes. I was bored, and this was starting to feel more like Lord d’Refan’s show than my birthday. My father, for the most part, seemed happy to let Lord d’Refan take control of this situation.
“Lord d’Refan,” I started.
“I told you, Alois,” he responded quickly.
“Yes, Alois”—the name felt weird coming off my tongue—“are you going to reject all of the eligible men who present themselves? I’ll have no betrothal candidates at this rate and will die a spinster who lives with her brother.” Peytor snorted a laugh.
“At least you’re good company, sister. Unlike other people,” he mumbled the last part into his whiskey, and my father took the glass from him.
“That’s enough for you tonight. ”
“I’m not a child, Father,” Peytor slurred.
“Then stop acting like one!” Father hissed, which shut Peytor up momentarily.
“Miss Ellowyn d’Aelius, may I have your first dance of the evening?” A smooth voice with a slightly unplaceable accent drew my attention back to the suitors.
I smiled at him and spoke before anyone could speak for me.
This was the first man to aim a question at me. Not my father. Not Lord d’Refan, just me.
I desperately needed a break from the toxic masculinity at the table, and I jumped at the chance to leave.
“Yes, of course, Lord . . .?”
He smiled back, teeth dazzling white. “Lord Torin d’Eshu. Or you could just call me Torin, if you prefer.” He was tall, taller than even me, with light brown, almost blond hair that hung in loose waves. Torin’s eyes were an arresting shade of hazel—more honey than brown, mixed with a deep forest green—and they danced with mirth and mischief.
I liked him immediately.
“Torin, then,” I said as I rose from my chair, carefully picking up my skirts to maneuver away from the table. Lord d’Refan shot him a dark look, and I heard him mutter something about first names.
“I’ve never heard of you, Torin d’Eshu,” he grumbled.
“That is because I am from the Southern Territories, Lord d’Refan. I doubt you would’ve heard of me. I’m not that renowned! Yet.” He added the last part with a wink in my direction, and I giggled. I quickly walked around the table to place my hand in Torin’s. His palm was calloused like he wasn’t immune to work, and I felt a tingle cascade through my body at his touch.
Torin’s eyebrows rose a hair at the sensation, which made me believe I wasn’t the only one to feel it.
His proclamation of his origins started a murmur across the ballroom and a conversation to break out at the head table, but I ignored it all to focus on the one man who actually asked me for something tonight rather than my father or Lord d’Refan, offending people be damned.