Chapter 30
Chapter
Thirty
I’ve seen her in my dreams. Life is a circle. We all walk the same path, but at different points. She needs to know. Needs to learn. I pray someone guides her to answers. And I fear that someone will have to be me.
— From the journal of Violet Andrever
Itrudged back to my rooms in a state after the council meeting—my first since the disastrous attempt to fix the Veil.
As I pushed open the door to my rooms, a cry rang out. “Happy birthday!”
I stood stunned, blinking at Freya, Finn, and Griff in the center of my room, a feast, including cake, laid out on the table behind them.
“Get in here, Lexie!” Freya gave me a big hug and tugged me into the room.
Finn was next, his arms tight around me. “I can’t believe you told Griff it was your birthday and not me.”
“I didn’t,” I said absentmindedly, staring at the scene. They had even hung a birthday banner. My eyes raised and met Griff’s. I didn’t know that I’d ever seen that expression on his face before—there was a hesitancy hidden in the slight smile.
“You did all this?” I asked, shocked and touched.
“You think I don’t know when your birthday is, Princess?” he countered.
I stood frozen, captured by the look in his eyes, the slight smile curving his lips, before I launched myself at him with enough force that he staggered backward as my feet came off the ground. He caught me, naturally, and clasped me to him as my arms went around his neck.
“Thank you,” I said, my words muffled in his shoulder.
“Anything for you,” he replied softly, his words tickling my ear.
As he slowly lowered me to the ground, I became acutely aware of every place our bodies touched. His hands stayed at my waist, mine on his shoulders.
The world paused for a moment as our eyes met.
“Let’s eat!” Freya announced, breaking the awkward silence.
“How did you find out her birthday?” Finn asked. “I had no idea!”
“I have my ways,” was all that Griff said, moving away from me and toward the food.
Freya leaned over to me and whispered for my ears only, “Still maintaining there’s nothing happening there?”
“When is Griff’s birthday?” I whispered back, ignoring her question.
“The twins’”—she stressed the word, and I felt a faint blush stain my cheeks as her eyes twinkled—“birthday is March twenty-second.”
After the Blathaine ball then, celebrating the spring equinox. I had a few days. And I had to get through that ordeal first.
Before I knew it, the High Day was upon me.
I stood at my mirror—Cadhla’s sister had outdone herself once again.
This dress was a pale-green chiffon that shimmered with every step, the deep vee neckline and full skirt making me feel like I was playing dress-up.
I had finally caved and let them braid a silver tiara into my dark hair, the stones glowing and shifting colors depending on the angle.
Everything about me was shiny and glowing—exactly how a princess was supposed to look.
Since I wasn’t being presented at this ball, I didn’t require an escort.
And while Griff—or Finn—would have been happy to act as one, I had told both of them I’d meet them there.
Griff had protested and I had told him I was perfectly capable of walking through the halls of the castle solo.
He hadn’t liked it, but he had given in.
Guards bowed as I passed through the corridors—something that didn’t usually happen.
It was probably the damn tiara that made them view “the princess” instead of Lexa.
When I reached the Great Hall, I bypassed the main doors, forgoing an announcement of my presence, and slipped through a side passage, scanning the transformed space.
Ivy climbed the walls, rose bushes dotted the perimeter, and rose petals had been scattered everywhere like something straight out of a woodland fairy tale.
I finally found Finn and Freya near the center, laughing, glasses of something in hand. Then I spotted Griff, and my heart plummeted.
Aine had plastered herself against him, one hand fisted in his coat, the other one stroking his chest. She had arched backward, her overflowing cleavage offered up for his perusal, her face tilted up as if she expected him to drop a kiss at any moment.
True, his hands were away from her body and he was scanning the crowd, probably for me, but the sick churning in my stomach didn’t care about those details.
I smoothed the soft skirts of my dress, trying to settle the sinking feeling. These people in their finery—they weren’t my people. Beyond my three friends, none of them actually cared about me. I was all dressed up, though, and it would be a shame to waste the effort.
Decision made, I spun on my heel. Time to find someone who would party with me, Lexa.
I descended the first stairwell I passed and kept going until I reached the kitchens. Different music drifted from the staff hall, situated directly below the Great Hall—livelier, with actual joy in it. I tried to rip the tiara from my head, but they had secured it too well.
Fuck it. The princess was crashing the staff party.
No one noticed my entrance over the commotion.
Like upstairs, everything was decorated in shades of green, but with wildflowers in clay pots rather than elaborate arrangements, and the vines looked freshly picked rather than artfully arranged.
The sights and smells instantly transported me to Nana’s garden and a wave of nostalgia washed over me.
Someone passed me a drink. I took a big sip, immediately regretting it. This was not the bubbly sweet drink from upstairs. This was harsher on the first taste, before softening into a smooth finish. Taking a second, more cautious sip, I decided I liked it.
The dancing here was everything the formal party wasn’t. Upstairs had been rigid perfection: stiff arms, ramrod-straight backs, dancers moving in precise, beautiful formations. Political theater masquerading as a celebration.
Down here was the complete opposite. And so familiar to me that a longing for my childhood hit me so hard my heart stuttered.
This was what a High Day was supposed to be—and friends celebrating the turning of the seasons, dancing however they pleased: pairs, solo, laughing groups that formed and scattered with the music.
A circle of dancers clapped in the center, taking turns spinning into the middle to show off.
This was what our celebrations had been like back home.
I wondered, not for the first time today, how Nana was faring.
She had more friends among the villagers than I had—wasn’t hard, I’d only had her and Cormac—but she still didn’t have a large circle.
I still had no idea how she had shifted from the grandeur of this life to the simple one we shared. Did she miss this at all?
Did she miss me?
Lost in my thoughts, I barely noticed the music shifting to an upbeat jig, everyone pairing up to romp in big circles around the room.
Someone grabbed my arm and swung me into the pattern of the dance.
I reflexively stiffened before surrendering to the movement, letting my cares float away and allowing laughter to bubble up as my partner grinned back.
We pranced and skipped around the hall, swishing in and out of other couples.
As the song ended, he gave me a slight bow. “Thank you, my princess.”
Damn tiara. So much for anonymity.
Before I could think, another hand grabbed mine, pulling me into the next dance. I was passed from arm to arm—male, female, it didn’t matter down here. Only the music and laughter and spinning mattered. This was celebrating.
Sweaty and breathless, I extricated myself from the latest person who had been twirling me around.
Like all the others, they gave me a slight bow of their head and murmured, “Princess,” but treated me like just another reveler.
My carefully arranged hair had come loose, my formal gown was wrinkled, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this free.
Predictably, that was when they found me.
“Excellent. Is this where we’re celebrating Blathaine?” Finn asked, grabbing two glasses of the drink, handing one to Freya and downing the second.
“It’s where I’m celebrating,” I said, perhaps harsher than I had intended. Then again, maybe not.
Griff raised an eyebrow and sniffed my drink. “How much of this have you had?”
I glared mutinously at him, and he backed off, raising his hands in surrender.
“Not that I’m complaining,” Finn said, “but why are we down here and not upstairs?”
“Feel free to return. You looked like you were having fun.” I gave Griff a pointed look.
“What did I do to deserve—oh, fuck.” Understanding dawned on his face. “You saw Aine. Lexa, she—”
Hearing her name on his lips was too much.
I didn’t want his explanations or excuses.
I wanted to keep the laughter and the buzz.
I shoved my drink at Finn, who promptly drank it, and grabbed Freya’s hand, pulling her onto the dance floor.
We were instantly swept up by various partners spinning us around.
Freya knew the steps and executed them with grace while I stumbled through.
I laughed, along with my various partners, every time they grabbed my hands and hips to guide me.
Finn followed, sweeping me into a rambunctious dance.
We cavorted in time to the music, spinning in and out of the other dancers.
Laughing, I was pushing my hair out of my face when a hand grabbed my elbow.
I spun around to see who was next and looked into Griff’s eyes, more green than brown in this light.
What I saw there made my breath catch and the buzz retreat.
“Will you walk with me?” he asked quietly, leaning in so I could hear him over the din.
I exhaled in a whoosh. The vulnerability in his eyes lessened my churning anger. He deserved to have his say, even if it confirmed my fears. That we were just friends. That I was just a job. That he wanted Aine. The bitch.