Chapter Twenty-One - The Solstice Ball #2
She knew it was risky, but Fabricio had incorporated these small reminders of her family so perfectly into the dress.
Beyond the sleeves, there were the small garnets that had been sewn into the bodice, the wine-red velvet ribbon through her hair, the velvet navy lining her cloak.
She had needed them closer to her, entering this lion’s den.
A reminder of who she was, and why she was here.
The young man raised a surprised eyebrow when it was Rosamund that stepped forward and held her arm out to Dorian. It was a testament to how far they had come in the last month that he did not recoil and took her arm. The young man opened the door, revealing the glittering golden ballroom beyond.
The room was filled with light. The golden twilight that crept in the large sparkling windows and from the glittering chandeliers that floated above them.
The ceiling had a high dome that had been painted with a masters hand.
Ancient tales of Valdyr had been painted across the ceiling, creatures that had not been seen in centuries, Kings long since passed and fallen gods.
As her eyes travelled down from the ceiling, she saw balconies where sky blue and ivory guests gossiped behind their fans, and hung over the edge to call to friends dancing on the marble ballroom floor.
Music filled the room from a full orchestra that sat upon a raised dais.
A hush fell as the servant to their right announced, “His Royal Highness Prince Dorian of the Umbral, Duke of The Veil and Lord of Blackthorn Hall, and Lady Rosamund,” the man hesitated for a moment, and Rosamund saw Isolde give him a nod, “Valehart.”
The hush was broken as a chorus of whispers took up around the room. However, before they could rise to a hissing steam, a golden prince launched himself up the steps.
“DORIAN!”
Taking two at a time, he reached his brother and enveloped him in a crushing hug. Dorian had been too slow to dodge his much quicker brother. He had a pained expression on his face as he arched away from him, keeping his pale face as far away from the sun kissed skin of his elder brother.
“You came!” the elated Aurelian bellowed in his brother’s ear, “you never come!”
“Put me down,” his hands balled into fists.
Aurelian chuckled but released his brother, though one of his hands clamped down on his shoulder causing Dorian to wince. Rosamund was about to laugh when she found herself folded into a similarly rib crushing hug, a waft of silky auburn hair flying into her face.
“Your doing, I suppose,” said the sweet tones of Isolde as she squeezed the air out of Rosamund.
The shorter woman beamed up at her as she held Rosamund’s hand. She had dressed to match her husband, both glittering gold amongst a sea of white and blue.
“Thank you,” whispered Isolde to Rosamund who nodded in return.
“Look at you! Didn’t I tell you I could make these colours work for you? I’m glad you came,” said Aurelian, looking in his brothers eye and for all that Rosamund could see, with sincerity.
“Well, don’t make me regret it,” said Dorian awkwardly as he looked at the ground.
Far from being offended or threatened, Aurelian laughed, wrapping his arm around his brothers shoulders and steering him down the stairs.
Isolde linked Rosamund’s arm through hers and followed them.
Around them the room returned to their festivities, and whilst the looks and the whispers did not stop, Rosamund found that they glanced over her.
She thought it might be the music, it filled every corner and so it was hard to hear what they might be saying, even if she could imagine it.
Aurelian and Isolde had welcomed them so warmly, with such genuine enthusiasm, that she could feel the last tendrils of anxiety slipping away.
It was dangerous. This feeling was dangerous.
As Isolde held one hand, the other trailed along the red velvet of her sleeves.
She should be on guard; she should not forget who she was surrounded by.
The enemy. The people that had a few months ago laughed to see her fall on her face.
The people that had cheered when her cousin was murdered.
The people that would happily see her hanged alongside him for their own amusement.
She could not forget where she was and who she was with.
But Isolde, Aurelian, I can trust them?
The two royals led them to where the rest of the family were standing.
Please, let me trust them.
The Royal Balcony was larger than the others, wide enough to fit all the princes and their spouses, and more besides, with a long half-moon ivory chaise that ran along the curved wall. Marble steps led up to it where a servant pulled back the front to allow them entry.
“Look who’s here,” cheered Aurelian as he pulled Dorian up the marble stairs towards his brothers.
Bastian sneered over the top of his goblet as he lounged on the chaise, his white shirt already open to his navel revealing a sea of wiry black hair, “finally decided to show up, did you?”
Cedric snorted a brusque laugh at his brother’s joke, Osric joining in nervously one beat behind him.
The other two did not laugh, but regarded Dorian with a certain curiosity.
The older of the two approached Dorian. Aurelian immediately stepped out of the way and with surprise she noted that Dorian nodded his head in deference to the other golden-haired brother.
There were few that matched Dorian in both height and his broad shoulders, but this man must have been one of the few people her betrothed had to look up too.
He filled the room, both with his size and presence.
He was dressed in a white court coat with a gold trim that radiated heat as well as light.
She had to peer at him through narrowed eyes as she took him in, the light dazzling.
If Aurelian was a warm summers day, this man was the full radiance of a burning sun.
“I am glad you have joined us Dorian,” the man said in a baritone that filled the balcony, “you have long been missed from our company.”
Dorian did not look up at him, but nodded his head once, sharply.
“It would appear that marriage will suit you brother,” said the other man whose platinum white hair fell to his shoulders as he regarded Dorian with cool grey eyes.
The blue of the other brothers court coat was so pastel as to be grey, only serving to enhance the colour of his eyes.
He was much shorter than both his brothers, coming up only to their shoulders.
However, there was a terrifying intelligence to his eyes as he turned his gaze to regard her. Like an owl watching its prey.
Aurelian looked to his brother expectantly, and when Dorian said nothing stepped forward to take Rosamund’s arm, “brothers, please allow me to introduce you to your soon to be sister-in-law, Lady Rosamund. Rosamund, these are our elder brothers Prince Gawain and Prince Luceran.”
They each gave the barest incline of their heads as they were introduced. Gawain approached her and she could feel Dorian tense as he did so, “Lady Rosamund, a pleasure to finally meet you. My wife has told me of you.”
Rosamund nervously looked over to Princess Celeste, her face impenetrably neutral as she looked at them.
What had he heard? What had he told her?
She could feel her nervousness trying to worm its way back in, but it was like the music of the room kept it at bay.
She curtseyed low in the manner that Elswyth had taught her, “the pleasure is all mine your highness.”
Gawain smiled approvingly, and when she rose from her curtsy to glance at Celeste, she saw the barest hint of a smile.
She turned to Prince Luceran to offer him the same curtsy when the white-haired man reached forward and lifted her hand in his.
She expected to see a sour expression on Seraphine’s face as her husband broke the order of things, but she saw only an amused smile.
“Lady Valehart,” said Prince Luceran as he bent over her hand, though stopped at kissing the back of it, he looked up and caught her in those grey eyes, “a delight. How are you finding the court?”
“Awful,” she blurted out before she could stop herself.
It was the thought that had been in her head, but she had never meant to say it aloud.
Her pulse should be racing, her eyes widening, but as her thoughts raced in her head, she felt nothing but calm.
She had also expected a gasp, a tut even, but instead the gathered siblings and spouses had laughed and chuckled.
“Luceran!” chastised Isolde, “now that isn’t playing fair,”
Aurelian turned to Rosamund as Luceran gently dropped her hand, chuckling, “forgive my brother please Lady Rosamund, he cannot help himself.”
“I simply enjoy getting to the truth of the matter,” said Luceran as he continued to hold Rosamund’s gaze.
Though no longer in the grip of it, as long as he had held her hand she felt she could not lie.
She thought of Dorian, how his very touch could cause decay and death.
Perhaps it was the same with Luceran, but with truth.
It unsettled her. What else could he do?
Could he read her very thoughts? The way he gazed at her and smiled, she thought he might.
“Perhaps you can find out if they’ve fucked yet then?” drawled Bastian from where he lounged on the chaise.
Lavinia cackled, and there was another snort from Cedric.
Osric spluttered into his own goblet. Gawain gave his brother a disappointed look and holding his arm out to Celeste, led her out to the dance floor.
Luceran did not acknowledge his brother in any way and held his arm out for his wife before departing the balcony.
“Bastian,” said Aurelian in a warning tone.
“What?” said Bastian with a sneer, “that’s what this is all about right? Why our pathetic baby brother was married off to a Valehart. To break the curse.”
Curse? what curse?