19
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I danced until I couldn’t feel the bottom of my feet, until I was sure my legs were jelly, and until I was convinced the fire behind me had scorched the outer layer of my skin.
Somewhere along the way Niamh, Rory, and Aisling found me, turning my one-on-one with Killian into a grand circle of whirling, leaping, and laughter that carried us into the late hours of the evening.
As a group we stumbled back into the castle.
Niamh was nowhere near as drunk as she was acting, intentionally losing her balance and stumbling into Rory.
Whenever he used his large arms to hoist her back upright, Niamh’s face was flush and her eyelashes beat against her cheeks as she thanked him over and over.
Aisling and Rory excused themselves from our group just as we arrived in the throne room. Killian took the lead, guiding Niamh and I through bodies until we were standing in front of ginormous tables of oak, each stacked to the brim with an assortment of richly spiced foods.
“It’s like that thing you humans have…” Niamh trailed off as her eyes widened, and I was sure I saw some saliva drooling at her lower lip. “I think you call them buffets?”
My stomach growled loud enough for the two of them to hear, which earned me scrutiny in the form of short chortles as they showed me to the plates.
My nose was filled with thyme and garlic and pepper, an assortment of spices that assaulted my nasal cavity and forced my hands to move faster as I loaded the stone-plate in my grip.
Niamh groaned. “There better be a healthy dosing of cinnamon to these dishes.”
“You like cinnamon?” I lifted a brow at her. Personally, I couldn’t stand the taste and was actively hoping for the opposite, but just for her I pretended to nod along.
Her eyes shot wider as she gurgled some saliva-soaked agreement.
By the time I was finished serving myself, Niamh and Killian had already found their seats at the large table positioned on the dais, just behind the throne.
Niamh took to one side of Raegan while Killian sat opposite them, and as I arrived I realized that there were no seats beside them left for me.
Grumbling to myself, I took a few extra steps down the table and pulled out an empty chair, half-the-room down from my friends. Before I could set my weight against the wooden structure, though, someone cleared their throat.
“Declan, take one of the seats at the end of the table.”
That voice — it was powerful, deep and demanding. Which meant only one thing: it was Raegan. I turned just in time to see the pixie sitting next to him mumble something before rising to his feet and scuttling down the length of the table, taking the chair opposite the one I had planned for.
“Olivia, come here.”
Frowning at him, I retrieved my plate from the table and cautiously moved towards the now-empty seat at his side. Niamh grinned at me from his other side, while Killian winked from across the table.
In a way, I was thankful for his interruption of my seating plan. Because as I looked back at where I was going to sit, I realized I would have put myself right into the deep end with a spawning of piranhas.
King Ronan was there at the head of the table, his dark hair slicked back and his eyes focused on the female sitting adjacent to him. I didn’t need anyone to tell me who, exactly, she was – it was obvious.
Her hair, the very colour of the sea, had long tendrils of dripping seaweed tucked and twisted amongst the braids.
The gown she wore, which looked far too similar to the texture of a jelly-fish, was the same colour as her skin; a faint turquoise that shifted between blue and green depending on how much light surrounded her.
But what was on top of her head was what brought her identity forth at once — a crown of sandstone and seashells.
She was the Queen of Uisge.
Which made her companion, sitting across the table from her on the other side of King Ronan, easily recognizable as the King of Speur.
His skin was light and fair, so pale it bordered crossing into the colour of the clouds he lived within.
The wings behind him, awkwardly tucked against the chair, shone with an iridescence that scattered rainbows in every direction, casting the sheen over even his pale-white hair atop his head.
And right there was his own crown, a glistening silver that had been shaped to resemble that of the puffiest clouds.
With a begrudging gratitude to Raegan, I slumped down into the chair and set my food in front of me.
“I did not realize you were so taken with me, Prince of Choilltean. Or is it Prince of Cluaineach? I always get that part confused.”
Raegan looked near murderous as he glared at me.
“I’m not. But he—” He pointed a sly finger towards the male I had been planning on sitting next to, “—has been known to sprinkle hallucinogens into the cups of females like yourself. Forgive me for trying to spare you of the embarrassment.”
Because I had nothing left to stand on, I mocked his statement by repeating it back with a scrunched face and a nasally tone.
~
Just as everyone settled down, Niamh and Raegan chatting amongst themselves and Killian adding in from across the table, I saw two friendly faces appear in the throne room.
Both Aisling and Rory twirling their fingers behind their back, their bodies looking more out of place than a seagull in the arctic.
Which was absurd, because they were in Saoghal, and they were pixies.
“Aisling! Rory!” I hollered, waving them over once they saw my hand in the air. They shared a nervous look between one another before ultimately giving in and moving towards our table.
Raegan snatched my hand out of the air. “What are you doing?”
I yanked my hand free of his hold. “Calling over my friends. Two seats have now emptied.”
“This table is for the King, his guests, and his people.”
“What about your people?” I hissed. “Whether you like it or not, they’re your people too.”
Raegan was at a loss for words, right as Aisling and Rory took the seats at my side. I wanted to stick my tongue out at him, but it seemed far too immature for a dinner with royalty so I settled for a scoff and pivoted, greeting the two of them.
“Thanks, Olivia.” Rory smiled just as Aisling nodded along.
“Of course.”
An hour stretched of me not talking to a single soul, instead resigning to simply listening.
The royalty at the end of the table made small talk, meandered around boring conversation that made me roll my eyes.
Niamh, Killian, and Raegan were placing bets on how long it would take the Queen of Uisge to notice she had a goldfish stuck in her hair.
All the while, Aisling and Rory remained just as quiet as I did.
Finally, Rory spoke. “None of them are talking about the Rachainn?”
“No,” I grumbled.
“Why not?” Aisling gasped. “I cannot think of anything more important.”
I hated that I agreed.
“Probably for the same reason that Cluaineach sent us on our way without much of an answer.”
“Diarmuid is a fool. His reliance on a council to help make decisions makes our whole kingdom weak.”
I frowned at Rory. “Help me to understand something?”
Both he and Aisling leaned in to me.
I dropped my voice as soft as I could, praying that Raegan wasn’t listening. “At what point does the heir of Cluaineach take the throne?”
Intrigue sparked behind both of their eyes. “When the rites are performed and the heir accepts the throne.”
“I see.”
“Mhm,” Aisling added, swallowing some peas. “What a day that will be, too. Speaking of wars and all.”
“What do you mean?” I frowned further.
Rory was careful with the volume of his words, too. “It’s no secret the heir is caught between two thrones. When he finally makes his ascension to one, I don’t think the other will take the decision lightly.”
I took a moment to contemplate that, stealing a look at Raegan who was laughing along to something Niamh said.
“I don’t understand, why can’t the heir take both? Unite the two?”
Aisling nearly choked on her mouthful of food, Rory set his cup down before taking a sip.
“Our kingdoms are sacred. Something as simple as passage in and out of one is challenged. Even mates that find one another across borders are not allowed to remain together. None of them would ever allow for such a combination.”
“What?” I gasped, somewhat thankful that I hadn’t shovelled another bite of food into my mouth. “That’s absurd.”
“That’s Saoghal.” Aisling shrugged.
Rory nodded along. “While everyone has every right to be concerned about the Rachainn, the real threat to peace that our kingdoms face is sitting right at this table.”
They both looked at Raegan. The air turned thick around the three of us, and Rory made to lighten it by changing direction to the conversation.
“What kind of king do you think he’ll be?”
“Me?”
“You’re the only one of the three of us that has spent any sort of time with him.”
I needed a minute to think about that. No matter how much I tried to recall a single moment with Raegan, the only one that stood prominent in my mind was that of a few hours ago, when I had seen him arguing with the King.
And unfortunately, all that I was left with was the reminder that he had done nothing about it.
Instead of telling them that, I offered something that would cut our conversation short and allow me to recede. “I’m not sure.”
They both nodded at me before turning their attention to their food.
I, on the other hand, turned to Raegan.
“Why are you sitting so far from your father?”
Raegan rolled his eyes at me.
“Worried you’ll get in another little tiff?”
With a feathering jaw, he sighed. “My father fought long and hard to restore peace to Saoghal. His methods for keeping it that way… differ from mine.”
Half of a potato was in my mouth, but I spoke around it. “What, like you want to take action and he wants to remain ignorant?”
“Watch it, Olivia,” he snarled. “You know nothing of our people.”
“I know enough to see that you are right, but you’re too afraid to stand up to him.”
As his nostrils flared, I shrugged and plopped the second half of my steamed potato into my mouth.
“I don’t need to prove myself to you.”
“Okay.” I shrugged again, this time going to a piece of scorched steak.
“I don’t.”
“Okay,” I grumbled.
Raegan muttered some sharp curse beneath his breath and shot upright, his chair toppling backwards from the mere momentum. I nearly choked on my food.
The table went deathly silent as all eyes turned to him. But my focus was on the King, who had a warning and a threat behind his eyes all at once.
Raegan cleared his throat, looking for the first time as if he was nervous. No one breathed as they awaited his words.
“I wish to meet with you all, first thing tomorrow morning.”
I actually heard King Ronan growl, just as the others all craned their necks curiously.
“I will not ail our evening with such talk tonight, but your attendance is mandatory for breakfast tomorrow.”
Without waiting for an answer, Raegan dropped back down into his seat and hung his head, eager to avoid the piercing glare from King Ronan.
It was possible that of them all, I was the most rigid. My light taunting of him was not supposed to generate any sort of action on Raegan’s part. Niamh, on the other side of Raegan, patted his back.
It felt wrong not to say something to him, so I did. “That was brave.”
Two dark eyes peered at me from beneath shadowed eyebrows. “I didn’t do it because of you.”
“I know.”
Swallowing, he let the conversation die at that, instead turning to Niamh and asking her how she liked the food.
The evening carried on, quiet and tame save for the murderous glare that the King continuously tossed in Raegan’s direction.
Laughter rippled across the room as people ate until their stomachs threatened combustion, music ebbed and flowed across the ceiling, and for a few hours it was easy to forget what danger was creeping through Saoghal.
That was, until a young pixie burst through the throne-room door, stumbling his way to the table where he slammed to a halt at Raegan’s side. He leant forward, bringing his lips as close as he dared to the ear of Raegan’s that was closest to me, and muttered four words.
Four words that I knew, deep in my heart, would change the course of this conflict.
“The dragons were attacked.”