“I’m sure a few of my subjects had begun to wonder at your absence.” Evelayn arched a brow at him.
Tanvir’s eyes widened with mock affront. “They couldn’t honestly believe I’d be frightened off at this point. Because of an intimate party with a thousand of our closest friends?”
Evelayn pursed her lips to keep from smiling.
“If King Bain and his war couldn’t tear us apart, your subjects needn’t fear that a little thing like announcing our impending Binding like this would frighten me away.”
Evelayn found herself laughing with him. Tanvir was right. They’d been through so much in the months leading up to this moment—fighting side by side to defeat Bain, mourning the loss of their parents together, battling through court politics together—if he’d ever doubted his devotion to her, he would have left her side long before now.
“So young to make such a momentous decision.”
The smile died on Evelayn’s face as she remembered they weren’t alone on the raised dais.
Tanvir turned slightly to bow toward the other woman, who had been brought out by her guards a short while before and seated behind Evelayn, to her left. “Queen Abarrane. I hope this night finds you well.”
The queen of Dorjhalon tilted her head slightly. “I can’t say that it does, quite honestly.” Evelayn’s guards flanked her on either side, an unused but visible threat in case she tried to cause trouble, but she still managed to look regal—almost powerful—as she sat ramrod straight, not allowing her spine to touch the back of her chair.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Lying does not suit you, youngling.”
Tanvir’s shoulders tightened at the insult, but he managed to keep a smile on his face as he bowed again, a perfunctory little bend of the waist, choosing to remain silent rather than respond. He’d come into his full power years ago, though not nearly as long ago as Queen Abarrane, of course. In point of fact, he was very young by Draíolon standards. He and Evelayn both were. But circumstance had forced them to mature quickly.
Abarrane continued to watch them speculatively. Evelayn hated the gleam in the other queen’s eye and wondered again, for the hundredth time, if she’d made the right choice in sparing Abarrane’s life as a show of mercy and goodwill toward the Dark Draíolon—and as a way to guarantee Lorcan would keep his Blood Vow of peace before allowing him to go free once more. There were plenty who had questioned her mercy.
She still believed wholeheartedly that Lachalonia needed both Light and Dark power to flourish, and she hadn’t seen any other way to regain that balance. Truthfully, she hoped Lorcan succeeded soon. The unnatural shift in the balance of their world that she’d felt since King Bain’s death had continued to grow stronger with every passing day, week, and month that the Dark Draíolon remained powerless. And though it was the last day of Athrúfar, it wasn’t nearly as chilly outside as it normally should have been by that time of year.
She had no desire to cause the Dorjhalon Kingdom to be destroyed. She only wished for peace—and balance. Evelayn thought she’d come up with the perfect solution, and Lorcan’s vow had reassured her that she was right. But now, as she returned Abarrane’s stare, she couldn’t quite shake a strange sense of foreboding.
Queen Abarrane was close to two hundred, but still as beautiful as any Draíolon in attendance. She had been King Bain’s second Binding, after his first died in childbirth, which was why she was nearly a century younger than Bain had been. Her obsidian-black skin was still smooth and her tawny eyes glowed with intelligence—and a faint hint of malice.
Evelayn turned back to the Great Hall, refusing to be drawn into yet another exhausting and mentally challenging verbal sparring match with the much more experienced queen. Surely, Abarrane knew that Evelayn had only done what had to be done, for the good of both their kingdoms. Lachalonia would have been destroyed if King Bain had been allowed to continue in his quest to rule over the entirety of it. Of course Abarrane was angry that her husband had been killed, but then, Evelayn wasn’t exactly thrilled to have the wife of the man who had murdered her parents sitting on the dais with her, either.
Tanvir motioned to one of the Light Sentries, who quickly moved toward them.
“How may we assist you?”
“Please inform High Priestess Teca that the time has come for the announcement.”
When the Light Sentry, a middle-aged man with mauve skin and startling yellow eyes, glanced to Evelayn for confirmation, she nodded, determined to put Queen Abarrane’s presence out of her mind. She couldn’t change her decision now, and the queen was no threat to her, other than her peace of mind. None of the Dark Draíolon were for that matter, since Lorcan had apparently still been unsuccessful in regaining the Dorjhalon power.
As High Priestess Teca came toward the dais, Evelayn chose to focus on Tanvir and their happiness, not to dwell on the past.
Ceren was still dancing with Quinlen, but more and more Draíolon were pausing, looking at the dais in curiosity as Teca moved with a regal grace up the stairs to stand beside Evelayn and Tanvir. Evelayn kept waiting for Ceren to glance up so she could give her a nod—the signal that the time for the announcement was here—before standing, but her friend was absorbed in her partner, her curled, flame-red hair a beacon on the dance floor. She and Quinlen made a stunning couple; Evelayn was sure another announcement was not far off.
But for now, Teca was looking at her expectantly, waiting for the queen to rise so she could signal the musicians to play a fanfare and begin the betrothal ceremony.
Ceren, look at me, Evelayn thought, willing her friend to notice the expectant hush falling slowly but surely over the gathered Draíolon. Finally, Ceren and Quinlen paused, and her friend glanced up at the throne. Evelayn gave a brief nod, and Ceren grabbed Quinlen’s hand, pulling him through the crowd toward the dais. Once they were standing nearby, watching with matching smiles, Evelayn finally looked to Tanvir.
Their eyes met, and she could see her own excitement and happiness reflected back in his gaze.
High Priestess Teca lifted her hands, the flowing white sleeves of her ceremonial robes fluttering up her arms, to signal to the musicians. Within moments, the music cut out and then they played the fanfare that indicated to the crowd to turn to the dais. An immediate quiet fell over the Great Hall, as all the Draíolon faced Evelayn and Tanvir.