Evelayn shot her a quelling look, but Ceren merely shrugged. It was the truth. The power that Evelayn harnessed made her glow from within. The gauzy silver-and-white dress she’d had created for the special night flowed over her as if it were made of the lightning that she could control at will. The dress had a special opening cut into the bodice to allow everyone gathered to see the pulsing light of the diamond embedded in her chest. She was as delicately pale and seemingly serene as her mother before her.
But Ceren knew that Evelayn held a fire inside her that her mother, Queen Ilaria, hadn’t possessed. Many members of the éadrolan court believed that was why she had succeeded where her mother had failed, despite being so young. Ceren still found it hard to believe that the girl who she’d woven crowns of flowers with, musing over which boy they’d someday fall in love with and Bind to, had truly killed King Bain and ended the ten-year war.
Thousands of candles already burned in the Great Hall, in anticipation for nightfall, reflecting the honeyed light of the sun as it arced toward the earth, preparing to take with it the meager warmth of the crisp autumn day. It was the last day of Athrúfar, the weeklong celebration that marked the end of the harvest and the transition to winter’s full power, and the tables were heavy with the spoils of the fields: ripe fruits, sweet breads, roasted nuts, heady wines, herb-crusted fish, and juicy pheasant; there were vegetables bathed in decadent sauces, and all sorts of cakes, pastries, and other desserts, including one of Evelayn’s favorites—white-chocolate mousse with fresh raspberries. The musicians had finished setting up in the far corner, and music began to float through the room—an airy, joyful overtone to the increasingly excited hum of the males and females filling the palace.
“Do you think they’ll like it?” Evelayn asked, gesturing at the many Light and Dark Draíolon already mingling across the floor below her, something that hadn’t happened since the war began, but which Evelayn had insisted on. “Enjoy the celebration, I mean.”
Ceren looked out over the growing crowd—the tall, lithe bodies of the adults, the slightly hunched elderly, and the younglings dashing around the legs of their family and friends. Evelayn had wanted every subject of both kingdoms who wished to be present allowed in the palace. Over the last few months, since King Lorcan had left to try and reclaim his power and the peace had held, the two kingdoms had intermingled more and more.
“I’m sure they will,” Ceren assured her. She almost reached out to squeeze Evelayn’s hand but stopped herself at the last moment, not quite sure if that would be proper in public.
Evelayn flashed her a grateful smile and then continued to survey the Great Hall.
For the first time in over a decade, there were as many Dark Draíolon in attendance at the Great Hall of the éadrolan Kingdom as Light. The majority of them seemed as eager as Queen Evelayn’s people to put the war behind them and forge new bonds of peace and friendship. There had been very few unwilling to make the oath of peace that Evelayn had demanded. Ceren had never seen so many in one place before. She’d heard plenty about the Dark Draíolon, the Summoners of Night, Autumn, and Winter, and their penchant for wearing brightly dyed furs and leathers, intricately cut and designed to show off their bodies; but it was different actually seeing them mingling with the Light Draíolon, Summoners of Day, Spring, and Summer, who preferred gauzy, iridescent fabrics. Light and Dark together in peace again—finally.
Because of her best friend.
“Go.” Evelayn suddenly gave her a little push. “Find someone to dance with. Enjoy the feast. I want to hear all about it when the night is over.”
Ceren glanced at Evelayn and thought she caught a brief flash of longing on her friend’s face, but then it was gone. As High Queen of éadrolan, she wasn’t able to take part in the revelry, not like she used to. Instead, she had to sit upon her throne and watch as everyone else celebrated the peace she’d won for them.
“Go,” Evelayn repeated. “I think I see someone waiting for you.” And then her gaze cut to the side. Ceren followed it to see Lord Quinlen standing near the base of the stairs, below the dais the throne sat upon. He wasn’t looking at her, but her breath still caught at the sight of his broad shoulders and his pale blond hair.
“All right. But please give me some sort of signal before you make the announcement. I want to be close by.”
“I will.”
“Promise?”
Evelayn sighed in exasperation. “Yes. Now go. He’s not going to wait all night for you.”
But still Ceren paused. “You really did it.” She gestured at the Great Hall. “All this is because of you. Don’t forget this is your celebration, too.”
Evelayn shook her head. “Not just me. Many have fought and died to try and win us this peace. It came at a terrible cost.”
Ceren knew Evelayn was thinking of her parents and the many, many others who had died. Hundreds of Draíolon on both sides. Maybe even thousands. “But finally their souls can be at peace, knowing that harmony has been restored. And our children will be able to grow without having to know the fear we did.”
“Praise the Light for that.” Evelayn took a deep breath. “This is a night to remember those we lost, but also to look to the future. And I believe yours is beginning to get impatient.”
Sure enough, Quinlen was now looking up at them—at Ceren—his eyebrows lifted.
Propriety be blasted, Ceren thought, and impulsively bent forward to kiss Evelayn on the cheek. Then without giving the High Queen a chance to react, Ceren hurried down the stairs toward Quinlen and the rest of the Draíolon.
The feast had been in full swing for the better part of an hour when Tanvir finally walked into the Great Hall. Evelayn knew because she’d been watching for him the whole time, growing more nervous with every passing minute that he had changed his mind, that for some reason he had decided it was a mistake. But as soon as he walked in, he looked to the throne and smiled, and her nerves fled at the warmth in his gaze.
As Tanvir wove his way toward her through the crowd, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. He wore fine linen pants, knee-high soft leather boots, and a silken tunic that came to a V at the tapering of his hips, highlighting his well-muscled chest and arms, his skin turned to burnished honey in all the candlelight. The sash at his waist was the same amber as his eyes, and another matching ribbon tied his long, brown hair back. Many Draíolon’s gazes followed him as he made his way toward the throne, but Tanvir only had eyes for Evelayn, sending a thrill through her body as she tried to remain very still and serene on her throne.
He deliberately held her gaze as he slowly ascended the stairs and came to kneel before her, taking her right hand and pressing a kiss to her fingers, just below the ring she was wearing in public for the first time. His mouth lingered for a moment longer than was proper, sending a shiver up her arm, straight to her heart.
“I apologize for my delay, my lady,” he murmured as he stood.