Chapter 15
The castle’s warmth washed over me as Enhart and I ducked inside some days later.
The place was abuzz with excitement as servants prepared for the Feast of Iltsar, a celebration of the goddess responsible for ushering in the spring season.
The air was thick with the scent of spiced meats, and paper lanterns hung from the walls in elaborate arrangements, bathing the corridors in their glow.
In the Outlands, the holiday was also known as Winter’s Bane, as it fell in the middle of what was usually the final unforgiving frost of the season.
In Wealdstone, we had celebrated by lighting beeswax candles and leaving them on our stoops to light Iltsar’s way through our village, even though the ground was usually still coated in snow for several weeks afterwards.
Tonight, at midnight, the King would host an elaborate banquet for the nobility. He assured me that it would be a smaller affair than the solstice—with no dancing, thank the gods—but that it would still be an evening to remember.
The prince grimaced as a pair of drunken vampiresses stumbled down the corridor, sloshing wine from their goblets onto the flagstones.
He had been unusually quiet this evening and had barely reprimanded me, even when I’d lost control of a small stream of fire and slightly melted the silver caps on his boots.
“I hate these banquets,” he said suddenly.
“Hm,” I replied. I wasn’t much looking forward to it myself, given the prying looks and rumors that had swirled about me at the solstice ball. But Enhart had been surrounded by admirers the entire evening. What did he care?
“You seem perfectly at ease in a crowd,” I pointed out. “The entire court adores you.”
“They don’t adore me,” he muttered darkly. “They want things from me. There’s a difference.”
Before I could muster a retort, my gaze snagged on the familiar sight of Niamh emerging from the servants’ stairs with a bolt of fabric tucked under her arm.
Her curls were pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck, and she wore her own clothes rather than a uniform.
She must be returning from the city, perhaps after visiting her mother.
Pain lanced through me as I thought of Adele.
I missed her terribly. And her daughter.
Niamh stopped short at the sight of us, her eyes wide.
“Your Royal Highness,” she squeaked. She dropped into a curtsy.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said quickly.
Niamh scowled. “I wasn’t doing it because of you.”
Her annoyance pricked at my skin, reminding me of the time I had fallen into a patch of stinging nettle as a child. I tightened my wards to avoid slipping into her mind again.
Enhart chuckled. “Niamh, I presume?”
“You know my name?” she asked, her gaze still trained on the floor.
“I’ve seen you a time or two in this one’s head,” he said, gesturing toward me. I shot him a dark look. “You may rise.”
Niamh straightened, but not before wrinkling her nose at the sight of his boots.
“Admiring my new style?” he replied, sticking out his left foot. The silver had been warped into a wrinkled puddle at the toe. “Courtesy of your friend.”
I grunted.
Niamh appeared to be holding back laughter. “How unfortunate, Your Royal Highness.”
“Indeed. Thankfully, I have plenty of other pairs.”
We lingered awkwardly for a moment, Niamh wringing her hands. “I, er, shouldn’t keep you,” she said finally. “Have a good evening, Your Royal Highness.”
I crossed my arms over my chest as she ducked back into the stairwell without another word. I could practically taste the bitter tang of resentment on my tongue. “Unbelievable,” I muttered.
“What in the name of the gods was that?” the prince asked gleefully.
“Nothing.”
“A squabble between friends?”
“You could call it that.”
“A word of advice?” he said. “You need friends in a place like this. Someone like Niamh, who has no connections at court, is the kind to keep around.”
“I don’t need friendship advice from you,” I replied stiffly. I wondered if he had any friends, or if he just had hapless followers.
“Of course. I only have two hundred years of experience between these walls.” He shrugged, heading in the direction of the royal apartments. “See you later.”
I stalked off toward my bedchamber. Waiters bustled past me balancing a towering cake garnished with sugar lilacs between them.
A nobleman plucked one from the top tier as they passed, ignoring the panic that flashed across the nearest waiter’s face as he did so.
I shook my head, annoyance prickling at the sight.
In my quarters, I stripped off my training garb and dunked hastily into the bath that was waiting for me.
The water warmed as I lingered there, heat radiating from my body.
Training had gone late this evening, and I didn’t have enough time to properly scrub the scent of smoke from my hair.
I supposed the humans in attendance wouldn’t notice, although I couldn’t say the same about the vampires.
Water splashed onto the floor as I stood and wrapped a towel around myself.
I soon exchanged it for a shimmering silver gown that hung in the wardrobe in the bedchamber.
Its gossamer sleeves flowed like water from my shoulders to my wrists, and a long slit in the skirt stretched from thigh to ankle, revealing just a hint of skin.
I sighed, wondering what Niamh would make of this gown.
Enhart’s advice echoed in my ears as my fingers trailed down the fabric.
Shaking my head, I hurriedly tightened the laces at the front of the bodice and drifted to the vanity, where I secured the clasp of a diamond pendant around my neck, a gift from Mordric.
The stone emitted a faint glow like a fallen star.
The silver chain fell to just above the embroidered edge of the dress’s bodice, which hugged the gentle curve of my breast. I secured my hair with a simple silver circlet that sat on the vanity, leaving the rest to fall loose around my shoulders.
Mordric arrived to escort me to the banquet hall just as I finished dressing.
Without a word, he swept me into his arms, robbing me of breath as he pressed his lips to mine.
I smiled, wrapping my fingers around his neck.
His hands dragged downward, brushing over the fragile laces of my gown.
For a fleeting, wicked moment I was tempted to pull him backward into my chambers.
“Later,” he whispered breathlessly into my ear.
I grinned, relishing the ravenous look in his eyes. “Later,” I agreed.
He cleared his throat and straightened, offering me his arm. “You look lovely,” he said. “Like an elven queen of legend.”
I dipped my chin. “Thank you, Your Majesty. You look very handsome yourself.” He had donned black breeches and a doublet in the same shade of silver as my gown. The familiar silver diadem encircled his head, only this time it held a ruby at his crown that matched the one on his finger.
“Forgive me,” he said, as he led me down the illuminated corridors. “We will not be seated together tonight.”
“Really?” I asked. My face fell. I had grown used to his company at supper.
“My Tradesmaster has beseeched me to entertain one of the visiting ladies this evening,” Mordric continued. “She’s quite miserable about my recent decision to reorganize the trade routes in the east, apparently.”
“I see.”
“Your Majesty,” came a drawling voice as the doors of the banquet hall came into view. “Blessed Iltsar to you.”
Prince Enhart appeared from the opposite corridor, the redheaded vampiress, Genevieve, in tow.
I stiffened at the sight of her. The prince was dressed in a midnight-blue waistcoat and black undershirt with billowing sleeves.
A thin golden crown was perched upon his dark hair.
Genevieve’s emerald-green gown clung to every curve of her body.
She made an awkward curtsy to the King, as if the seams might rip if she moved too freely. I smirked.
“Prince Enhart,” said Mordric. “Lady Ulrich. A pleasure as always.”
“A pleasure, indeed,” Enhart replied. “I apologize for our late arrival. I know how much you love to make an entrance.”
“No need to apologize,” said Mordric jovially. He nodded to the guards, who pulled open the heavy gilded doors. “After you.”
Enhart dipped his head. “Of course. Do try not to set the banquet hall on fire tonight, Miss Erramun.”
My blood ran hot. Genevieve cackled, trailing after him into the banquet hall.
Mordric smiled down at me. “I’m glad to see that you two are finally getting along.”
I repressed a groan. “Swimmingly,” I said instead.
“I’ve arranged for you to sit next to Lady Lightborne this evening,” he said. “I do hope that’s alright.”
“Who’s Lady Lightborne?” I asked.
“That would be me,” said Vesper, grinning as she materialized at my side. Diamonds dripped from the diadem that adorned her head, casting shards of light across the walls. “I must thank His Majesty for giving me your arm for the evening once again.”
Mordric bowed to me. “I’ll see you after the feast,” he said. A laugh escaped me as he pulled me to his chest, his lips close to my ear. “I’ll be thinking about tearing that gown off of you all evening.”
My cheeks warmed as he released me to my friend then turned and offered a wave to his adoring guests.
Their excitement tickled my skin as they climbed to their feet, already clumsy with drink.
They bowed to him as he made his way to the head of the table, the gemstones that adorned their necks and fingers glittering in the light of the crystal chandelier above our heads.
I’d never be unimpressed by the effortless way Mordric guided himself through a crowd. The room was his, and he knew it.
The massive table was laden with antlers dipped in silver and towers of exotic orange fruits. A troupe of fiddlers played a jovial tune by the windows, a puddle of gold coins growing at their feet.