Chapter Five

I took the wine goblet with me to Akyran’s door and knocked. I heard him call out, so I opened it. He was standing, looking out the window at the darkening sky, whilst Ithyles finished buttoning his cufflinks.

“My Prince,” Ithyles murmured, seeing me.

Akyran turned his head with a smile and looked surprised. For a long moment, he regarded me, the surprise fading into an expression I could not put a name to. “You were right about the dress not needing jewels,” he said finally.

“The locket is perfect, however,” I agreed, reaching up to where it rested on my neck. “Here,” I handed him the wine.

He took it out of my hands and took a mouthful, without taking his eyes from me. He grimaced and looked into the cup. “What is in this?”

“Oh, this and that. A precaution. Your mother has been a little… loose with her magic recently.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You think she’ll spell me to think I have lost my magic, and send me out into the world with a Destiny spell?”

“Well, I doubt, very much, knowing your mother, that she’d attempt the same trick twice,” I replied. “Drink up. I will also point out,” I said, accepting the goblet back from him and checking to make sure he’d drunk it all. “That I am ready for the ball, and you are not.”

“By moments,” he replied as Ithyles released him. “Thank you,” he clasped his manservant on the shoulder. Ithyles collected up discarded items of grooming and removed them into the other chamber. Akyran walked around me. “This is really an unusual dress,” he observed. “Totally unlike the current fashion of the courts, but I expect that will be remedied by most of the court ladies tomorrow.”

“Is that a compliment?” I teased him, preening a little and swirling my skirts so the light caught the golden glint of the threads.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve always had your own distinct style in clothing, and I can’t see you in the fluffy flowing pastels everyone is wearing at the moment,” he adjusted the locket on my neck, his fingertips brushing my skin and sending a current through me. He leaned over in such a way to look at it, that it was as if he inclined in for a kiss. His eyes flicked to mine, and held them, and for a moment, I thought I saw… And then he straightened. “We should go.”

“Thank you for the oils, as well, Akyran.”

He paused, his back to me. “You smell nice,” he said. “The Fae rose goes well with the cinnamon you use in your hair.” When he turned back to me, his cheeks were flushed again. He was fidgety, his movements sharp as he smoothed his coat and flicked back his hair. “At least my blue goes with your gold,” he decided.

“Yes,” I looked at him from under my eyelashes. He was nervous. In all the centuries we had spent together, I could count the times I had seen him nervous on one hand. “You look very handsome,” I offered, as he seemed to need some reassurance. “But very… tense. What is going on? You haven’t been yourself at all today.”

He blew out a breath. “Ah, so many things. Rivyn bringing home a pregnant bride, this mankind’s war against the brethren and Aurien getting himself involved, and now my parents are debating whether it might not be better to step in now and prevent another tragedy on the Phimion scale…”

“I’m sorry,” I laid a hand on his arm.

He covered my hand with his. I could feel the callouses from his weapons on his fingers, and the heat of his skin. “We should go,” he said quietly. “My father and I had words last time I was here, and he has little patience with me as a result. Perhaps you should be more worried about my father’s magic, than my mother’s,” he added as an afterthought.

“Oh, I covered that, too.”

“Of course, you did,” he paused and brushed his lips against my forehead.

“You did not tell me you had words with your father.”

“Ah, he would not appreciate me talking about it, even to you,” he replied lightly. “I have already said too much.” He opened the door and led the way into the hallway. “I wonder if Aurien’s wife knows she is yet,” he added with amusement. “Dragons are unfathomable sometimes but that was unusual even for one of them.”

“He’ll have his reasons, I’m sure,” I replied. “But it was… odd.”

“If she wins, he’ll be king of Uyan Taesil. That will be a first for history. A dragon king of a mankind kingdom.”

“Uyan Taesil has always straddled the line between mankind and the brethren,” I considered it as we made our way across the polish stones and the colour faded from the artwork, indicating we were moving from the private residences of the royal family. “If there was ever to be a dragon king, it would be there. I cannot see him taking the throne, however. He has no interest in ruling. Perhaps that is why he is being so secretive about it. He wants the woman, but not the crown.”

“That’s a problem for him, then,” Akyran noted archly. “Because we need her to win back the throne. But I suspect the wily dragon has a plan.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Perhaps if her people believe her unmarried, they will accept her as queen more readily, and once they do, he can claim her, but not the role of king?” We had entered the main public hallway of the castle.

The music and voices of those within the ballroom made talking quietly impossible, and, as the servants had set up a refreshments table out here, the area was busy with clusters of elaborately costumed courtiers and nobles holding drinks or plates of food, inclining their heads together in order to talk.

“Aurien would have a plan,” I added. “It would be good to see him again. I did not see him when he was here.”

“No, I think I pissed him off.”

I flicked him a look through my eyelashes. “Why am I not surprised about that?”

He laughed, startling a gathering of courtiers outside the ball room. They smiled and bowed to him, pleased to see their prince in good humour. He acknowledged their obeisance with a nod as we walked through the doors.

The ballroom had been magicked to resemble an enchanted glade, the doorways into the chamber and out onto the terrace beyond it formed from the trunks of moss clad trees and leafy boughs, with seating areas set upon lush grass framed by wildflowers. The ceiling that arched high above, held the moon and stars to light the room below and the balconies to the gallery, where the musicians played and courtiers gathered to watch the dancing from a loftier viewpoint, were wound with vines and fragrant flowers.

“Hmmm,” Akyran paused to cast his eye over the room. “A little… tasteless and overdone.”

“Oh, come now,” I scolded him. “The dragon’s lair themed ball was tasteless, and the undersea themed one was overdone - we were both shaking sand out of our hair for a week after. This, by comparison…” I paused and giggled, hiding my face against his shoulder. “Are the fauns’ guests or part of the decor? I cannot tell.”

He saw where I was looking and made a sound in the back of his throat as he smothered laughter, managing to keep his face straight. “It’s anyone’s guess. I do not think they even know.” He moved us further into the room. A servant brought a tray of crystal glasses filled with sparkling wine and Akyran handed me one before taking one himself. “Come, we’ll do a round.”

He led us on a slow circle of the room, pausing to greet and exchange pleasantries if he was feeling pleasant towards that person, unpleasantries disguised as pleasantries if he was not happy with them for whatever reason. Akyran was a master at holding a grudge and felt no need to hide who held his favour and who did not, at any given time.

The King and Queen were on a similar round, and stood with my parents, watching us. Akyran did not seem to notice as he paused us by Rivyn and Siorin.

“Brother,” Rivyn greeted Akyran. “And the always beautiful Ecaeris, of course,” he leaned over to kiss me as Akyran did likewise with Siorin.

Rivyn’s wife suited the current court fashion of floating, gauzy fluttering ruffled skirts and draping sleeves cut to expose the arms more than cover them. Whoever dressed her had sensibly resisted the temptation to put her in sea colours and drape her in pearls. Siorin was less than comfortable with her oceanic heritage and would be embarrassed to wear such obvious references. Instead, she wore the softest shades of pink, both in the cloth and diamonds that glittered.

I leaned over to brush a kiss against her cheek when Akyran released her, taking more care not to crush the fabric of her dress than he had.

“You look beautiful,” I told her. New to court and her position as Rivyn’s wife, I had only met her once or twice when I had accompanied Akyran to the Court of Light, and when Akyran and I had gone to Nerith to investigate the activity of Dark Elves in the city.

I was, therefore, one of the few people that knew what Clareath had done to her.

It was not the first time I had heard of the bridle. I had come across them first during Phimion’s rule in Nerith, and since then, mankind had adopted the device in various forms for various results - all of them unpleasant. It amazed me that mankind’s stories were of Fae cruelty, when they had created such instruments of torture.

She flushed. “Thank you. Your dress is beautiful, too.”

“We will not be late,” Rivyn was saying to Akyran. “Siorin needs to rest.”

“Mmm,” Akyran arched an eyebrow. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Rivyn’s lips curled in a sneering smile. “Well, you know the cure to your jealousy, brother.”

“Let’s move on, Ecaeris,” Akyran glared at his brother. Rivyn laughed. “And leave my discourteous brother.”

“Come back Ecaeris,” Rivyn responded lightly, “when you shed the unpleasant growth that’s attached itself to your arm.”

Whilst the exchange was not unusual for the brothers, Akyran’s irritation with Rivyn was. “Akyran,” I nudged him. “You’re still scowling. People will notice. They’re already talking about the two of you.”

He released the scowl and unclenched his teeth. “Fae law is Fae law. Rivyn used to understand that.”

“The Court of Light has always been more…” I searched for the right word. “Lenient. Rivyn is your mother’s heir, and she was rather forceful with her desire for him to bend to her will. Perhaps he is merely accommodating her wishes. Once he is king, he will exert more of his own opinion, and you will find yourselves once again aligned on the subject of law and penalty.”

“True,” he breathed out, releasing the tension from his shoulders, and smiled down at me. “Always so sensible, Ecaeris.”

“Well, one of us needs to be.”

We approached our parents, and they stilled their conversation at our approach. I curtseyed to the king and queen, and then exchanged cheek kisses with Leamoira. King Treyvin was less inclined to break with formality than Queen Leamoira, and merely inclined his head to acknowledge me and then gestured to Akyran, stepping away with his son for a private conversation.

I kept one eye on Akyran as I greeted my parents. “You did not say you were coming for this ball,” I said apologetically. “And I did not know until Eltarin told me during the game.”

“It was an impromptu trip,” my mother said, flicking her eyes ever so slightly to Leamoira. They had been summoned, I realised. I wondered what was afoot, but I could not ask in front of the Queen. Akyran’s discussion with King Treyvin was not a happy one, I could see from their body language and the set of Akyran’s jaw.

“Nerosh is doing well,” my mother told me. They were aware of the conversation between the King and Prince and sought to cover for the argument obviously underway. “Skyshir’s so proud.”

“You’d think Nerosh the first heir born to the line,” my father observed dryly. “Skyshir thinks he has done something so remarkable.”

“At least he gives Iloria credit for her part,” my mother smirked, “unlike other first-time fathers we could mention.” My father and Leamoira laughed, in shared memory.

“Oh, Skyshir could not be worse than you were Carith,” the Queen agreed with my mother. “I thought Entara would poison your wine for the first five years.”

“Who said I didn’t?” my mother replied, flicking my father a flirtatious look.

“A strong digestive system, and plenty of wards,” my father acknowledged with amusement. “Kept me alive for those five years, I think.”

“Talking about wards,” Leamoira frowned at the argument. “I might need to employ one, I’m just not sure which is most in need of it - Treyvin or Akyran.”

“Should we intervene?” I wondered.

“Oh, no,” Leamoira dismissed the idea, shaking her head. “Akyran is out of line. Treyvin will pull him back into it.”

“How is Akyran out of line?” I asked with trepidation.

My mother and Leamoira exchanged a look before Leamoira replied. “Nothing to be concerned about, Ecaeris. This dress, meanwhile, is marvellous.”

“Thank you,” I flared the skirts for her, so that the light danced off the fabric. “Apparently my dressmaker found a young girl who could weave straw into gold thread. I was able to assist her with the payment the girl demanded, and my dressmaker had the gold thread made into this fabric. It’s surprisingly light.”

“Does Akyran know?” Leamoira was amused.

“About where I source material for my dresses? I doubt he’d care.”

“What was the payment?” my father eyed my dress with speculative parental concern, knowing the cost would eventually end up on his ledgers.

“Do not worry,” I laughed at him. “She wanted her goblin benefactor’s name, so the gold thread was free. There was only the cost of weaving and then the dress being made, and the dressmaker’s finder’s fee…”

“I don’t know whether to be relieved or horrified,” he replied.

“Considering the cost of a fabric woven out of threads of gold via goblin magic?” I arched my brow. “The manufacture of the dress was minor in comparison.”

“And will be very difficult for anyone else to replicate,” Leamoira observed.

“Well, they could find the same girl, but then they’d be paying for the gold thread,” I replied as King Treyvin returned to us. Akyran had stormed out of the ballroom. “I should go,” I said apologetically.

“No,” Treyvin shook his head. “Give him some time, Ecaeris.”