55. Diar
Diar
The people of Muirashi did not throw balls. We invited others over for dinner, held vigils for the departed, and celebrated the arrival of spring. Quiet affairs, save for the crooning farmers did toward their orchards.
Ferris smoothed down his silver finery and straightened his dark green cloak. Sighing, he thumped his head against the wall.
We hid in the hallway outside the ballroom, preparing ourselves to enter. Agendra had gone ahead of us to fill Reese in while Ferris prepared to meet his family.
I tapped my fingers on Siotha’s cold grip, listening to the murmurs from the adjacent room. “Are you sure this is the best way?”
“Yes, very sure,” Ferris confirmed. “They can’t destroy me in public.”
“Couldn’t they murder you in private later?”
“They could. But this goes two ways.” He glared at me. "You won't murder them in public.”
“I don’t have qualms about where I kill people.”
“Don’t say that,” Ferris groaned. “The last thing I need is you going feral in front of the queen.”
“She can’t do anything to us if she’s dead.”
Ferris gaped at me. The corner of my mouth tugged upward, and I glanced away.
“Are you joking?” He asked. “I can’t tell. Have you ever made a joke before?”
“I don’t joke,” I said, shifting to peer into the ballroom.
There were far too many people here. Ignoring the sea of Solhearts, I focused on the table to my right. I’d never seen Aenir’s king before, but I could guess what he looked like. My eyes twitched.
If he so much as snarled at Ferris, I’d draw my blade.
“Let’s go,” I said, looking back at the prince.
Taking a breath, Ferris nodded. “Alright. Let me do the talking, yeah?”
“That’s probably for the best.”
“She agreed, I can’t believe it.” Ferris shot me a sly grin as he slipped past me into the ballroom.
One step through the archway, and dozens of eyes fell upon me, on the woman dressed in men’s clothing, holding a Paragon’s bow. Ignoring them, I stared at Aenir’s king and tried to shut out the noise.
The king turned toward us, hand slipping off the table. He and Ferris looked alike, and yet so different. Their curls shared the same steel shade, their noses had a slight curve. But the king’s eyes were pale green and his demeanor . . . cold, regal—nothing like his son.
King Ailithir rushed toward us. My hand tightened on my blade.
“By the saints,” he cursed, grabbing Ferris by the arms.
Ferris flinched, ever so slightly. I drew my blade an inch from its sheath.
“Solathair’s breath,” Ailithir cursed. “I thought you were dead.” He stepped back, exhaling.
Someone was staring at me—I noticed their glare out of the corner of my eye. The crown prince remained by their table, hand gripping its edge. His forest green eyes focused on my blade. I slid it back into its sheath.
King Ailithir looked over at me. “And I thought my Paragon drew controversy. The saints.” He swallowed. “Solathair has a funny sense of humor.”
“Indeed.” The crown prince strode over, hands knitted behind his back. “I hear my brother has committed a few crimes in your home city.”
“He helped me break out of the dungeons," I said. “Twice.”
“They were going to kill her,” Ferris interjected. “What was I supposed to do? Sit on my hands?”
“We would all prefer it if you did, once in a while,” Laiserian snapped. “Lucky for you, Paragon Tiernan intends to settle this matter tonight.”
Narrowing my eyes, I studied the crown prince. He looked neat and kept, steel locks short. His features differed so greatly from Ferris’ that they hardly looked related—his were long and elegant, Ferris’ was curved and mischievous.
“If you want my opinion,” Laiserian continued, noticing my glare. “Should we decree that the weapons can make mistakes, we call all Paragons into question. With enemies on our borders, we ought to put faith in what is supposedly a gift from God.”
I blinked, taking in his words.
“You were there.” Ailithir nodded at me. “You know what we face. I would very much like to hear your account.”
Taken aback, I stared blankly at him. Seeing Ferris’ scar, I’d envisioned a monster. Detestable. But this man looked at me with a kernel of respect few other men had. And he’d been relieved to see Ferris unharmed.
When I'd saved his life during Winter's Tide, he had not dismissed me for being a woman.
But what he presented on the surface didn’t matter. He’d hurt Ferris—that was enough.
“O-of course.” I found my voice. “Ferris was there with me. He’s a better storyteller.”
“Yes,” Laiserian drawled. “A little too good of a storyteller. All the more reason for him not to tell it.”
“I’ll have you know,” Ferris argued. He grimaced. “Shit.”
A Solheart had departed their table and strode toward us. King Ailithir held up a hand. “I’ll handle him.” Turning on his heel, he blocked the Solheart’s path before he could reach me.
Relieved, I took a few steps away. I’d been scrutinized and belittled by enough men.
“Want to dance?” Ferris leaned in. “It's a good way to escape.”
“I don’t know how to dance,” I admitted.
“Want to learn?” He grinned.
“Not tonight, she doesn't," Laiserian interrupted, joining his brother’s side. “This room is a war zone, and I’m keeping you in my sight.”
“You’ve never been good at that, Lais.” Ferris smirked. “In fact—” He winced, touching his side.
Laiserian’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Ferris said quickly, turning away.
Frowning, I looked between Aenir’s royal family, trying to gauge their dynamic. Ferris seemed different than usual—uncomfortable and tense. But I couldn’t read anything further. I suddenly felt like I knew nothing about him at all.
Though perhaps I needn’t read their faces. Ferris had been more willing to throw himself into mortal peril in Gwynford, in Tsuyan, than return home.
The monsters of the dark felt safer than his family.
In that sense, he and I were exactly alike. Nobody would think my father a bad man, from a first meeting.
“Think Mare’s alright?” Ferris asked, nodding toward the dais.
Lady Rohan looked less a Paragon and more a princess—she was beautiful. Paragon Tiernan stood by her side, arguing with a pair of Solheart men.
“She will be.” Laiserian folded his arms. “The bride will draw all eyes away from her.”
I’d almost forgotten this was a wedding.
A man cut through the crowd to approach us, departing Agendra's side. The Paragon remained across the room, watching me with his brilliant, topaz eyes.
Ferris visibly brightened. "Liam." He grinned. "I didn't realize you would be here."
"Isn't that my line?" Liam stood opposite Ferris, looking him up and down. "Aren't you supposed to be in a dungeon?"
Laiserian arched an eyebrow and gave Ferris a pointed look.
"As if any dungeon could hold me." Ferris flicked a hand dismissively.
I bowed my head. "We've met, but I don't think we've ever had a chance to talk."
"Not really, no." Liam studied Siotha. "Congratulations on that, by the way. Or, condolences, depending on your point of view."
I tilted my head, noticing his pale green eyes and light brown skin. "You're a half-blood."
Ferris winced and ran a hand down his face. I bit my tongue, realizing I shouldn't have blurted that out.
"Yes," Liam said, sounding almost amused. "I am."
"But I thought you and Mare—”
"Were siblings?" Laiserian interjected. "They are."
The elder prince and Liam exchanged strange looks. I couldn't for the life of me read them, but whatever passed between them in the silence, Liam stepped back, as though afraid.
"Ah.” Laiserian pivoted toward the entrance. "She's arrived."
The doors creaked open, held apart by a pair of brightspears. A stunning Fireborn entered, and the room hushed.
A ruby gown trailed behind her, edges hemmed with gold. Hair like fire gathered on her head and fell in curls around her face. Her eyes locked on me, and she strayed from her escort, despite their protests.
Lady Brighid ignored Ferris, ignored Laiserian. Her mouth twisted into a smile. “Muirashi’s controversial Paragon. I learned you were here only recently.”
“My apologies,” I said. “I did not mean to crash your wedding.”
“Crash?” She smiled. “No. I was just thinking, how lucky I must be. For something as mundane as a lady’s wedding to become so much more: an event that will go down in history.”