“Draíolon of Lachalonia, I thank you for joining with me in celebration of our happy news. But even more importantly, in marking this bright new dawn of an age of peace—where Light and Dark will coexist in harmony, side by side. We will work together as was intended in the beginning to—”
Evelayn’s conduit stone suddenly flashed ice-cold in her chest, stealing her breath and her words. At the same moment, Queen Abarrane gasped behind her, a sound of surprised pleasure. Many Dark Draíolon around the Great Hall also reacted, jerking or gasping or otherwise indicating that they, too, felt the change.
Her stone returned to its normal warmth, and with it came the sense that the imbalance she’d noticed ever since King Bain’s death had finally been righted. This was as it should be—Light and Dark needed each other. Their kingdoms were meant to exist together, to bring complete harmony to their world.
But she could only hope the vow Lorcan had made was truly binding. Because he had finally succeeded. The Dark Draíolon had their power back.
ALL AROUND CEREN AND QUINLEN, THE OTHER Draíolon had begun to murmur—the Light in unease and confusion, and the Dark in excited undertones. Ceren watched as Tanvir reached out toward Evelayn in concern when she stopped midsentence, but she gave a minute shake of her head and he let his arm drop again.
An alarmed buzzing began to build in the Great Hall when the queen didn’t immediately continue her speech. But as Ceren watched, Evelayn pulled her shoulders back and lifted her hands to try and regain their attention. When that didn’t work, she sent a flash of light out above the crowd. Some of the younglings cried out in surprise, but everyone else rapidly quieted again.
“My Draíolon, balance has once again been restored in our world. King Lorcan has succeeded in regaining Dorjhalon’s power!” Evelayn made it sound like a triumph, but Ceren couldn’t help glancing around to see if any Dark Draíolon were near her and Quinlen. Could they truly be trusted? “As he has made a vow of peace, I ask you to join in celebrating yet another triumph this night.”
Everyone cheered again, but the Light Draíolon’s cheers weren’t quite as enthusiastic as the Dark. There was a nervous sort of energy in the hall now, where moments before it had been full of joy and happiness at the conclusion of the lovely ceremony.
As Evelayn continued with her speech, Ceren’s attention strayed to Queen Abarrane sitting behind Tanvir.
She was smiling.
Anything that caused Abarrane to smile made a hard pit of fear lodge in Ceren’s belly.
The rest of the night proceeded without incident, the dancing and feasting continuing for hours, all while Queen Evelayn watched from her throne, Tanvir at her side. Though the initial tension in the room quickly dissipated and the original joviality returned, Ceren couldn’t quite shake a strange foreboding every time she glanced up and saw the way Queen Abarrane was watching the celebration with that same little smile curling her lips.
Finally, hours later, when it was closer to dawn than sunfall, Queen Evelayn stood up and lifted her hands, signaling for the music to stop.
“I hope that this feast celebrating the peace between our two kingdoms will be the first of many,” Evelayn had just said, when suddenly the three-story-high window on the west side of the Great Hall shattered, blasting shards of glass toward the crowd. The Light Sentries burst into action, rushing with blinding speed toward the broken window as younglings screamed in fear and adults quickly shot waves of light over those closest to the destroyed window to deflect the glass.
Tanvir jumped in front of Evelayn, pushing her back, taking a defensive stance, twin daggers suddenly appearing in his hands. But Evelayn wasn’t one to let him stand in front of her while she cowered. Ceren conjured her sword as the High Queen summoned her own weapons—a long sun-sword that crackled with light and a shorter dagger that sparked with lightning in her left hand.
Ceren had just begun to move toward the dais when a hawk as black as night and as fast as shadow dove through the broken window straight toward the queen and her betrothed. In the blink of an eye, a swirl of black smoke twisted through the air, and in place of the hawk stood Lorcan, King of Dorjhalon, dressed completely in black leather.
The crowd gasped and the Light Sentries rushed forward. But Lorcan lifted his hand, and a wall of darkness, writhing with shadows, sprang up around the base of the dais, barricading the four of them—Queen Evelayn, Tanvir, King Lorcan, and Queen Abarrane—from the rest of the Draíolon.
Ceren knew that King Lorcan was older than Evelayn, but not by much, so he, too, was a fairly young monarch. She’d noticed how handsome he was when he’d made his vow; but now his conduit stone was glowing crimson with the power he had regained, which only made his silver eyes even more startling.
He strode to where Evelayn stood stiffly, watching him, took her right hand, and lifted it to his mouth, avoiding the dagger she clutched to press a kiss on her fingers as he had done before leaving months earlier. She yanked it back.
“What is the meaning of this, Lorcan?”
“I see you made it official,” he responded, his gaze dropping to the ring on her hand and then flickering to Tanvir.
The sentries were sending blasts of light at the swirling darkness, unsuccessfully trying to break through the shadow wall, but Ceren stood frozen, unable to tear her eyes away from the two monarchs.
“I’m sorry about the window,” he continued, “but I never could resist a grand entrance when presented with the opportunity.”
Evelayn took a step away from him, closer to Tanvir. “You just regained your power—how did you make it back so quickly?”
“There is so much you have yet to learn, my dear. And I eagerly look forward to teaching you. After you break your Oath of Binding to Lord Tanvir, and Bind yourself to me instead, of course.” Lorcan smiled as though he’d merely commented on her dress or her hairstyle, rather than making such an outrageous demand.
Tanvir lifted the sword he gripped, his expression darkening.
“Now, now, let’s not get hasty. Someone could get hurt.” Lorcan practically growled the last few words and flung a black dart of shadow at Tanvir, which the High Lord deftly deflected.
Evelayn finally moved, so quickly it appeared that one moment she was standing on the dais next to Tanvir, and in the blink of an eye she was behind Queen Abarrane’s chair, her dagger lifted beneath the older monarch’s chin, threatening to drag it across her throat. Ropes made of light snaked out from Evelayn’s fingertips, encircling the older queen, entrapping her so completely there was no possible chance she could use her power to fight back.
“What is it you want, Lorcan?” Gone was the smiling, genteel queen who had been hosting a feast, and in her place was the warrior who had stopped the war. Ceren could easily believe that this Evelayn was capable of killing King Bain. She seemed capable of doing anything.