It was her birthday, and Evelayn was going to spend the last hour or two as she wished, where she wished, not trapped at a party held in her honor that apparently had nothing to do with her.
“If you’ll excuse me—” She was turning away even as she spoke, hurrying down the stairs toward the crowded Great Hall before her aunt could stop her. Suddenly, she was enveloped in noise and sound and heat and life. All around her Draíolon danced and laughed and ate and danced some more. Dresses and evening clothes of every color filled her vision, along with the many varied hair and skin tones that distinguished her people—colors of the earth and all living things that were a part of spring and summer. Their scents combined in a heady blend that was almost overwhelming. But all too soon her subjects noticed the princess there among them, and the dancing and laughing and joviality slowly ground to an uncomfortable halt, as if they weren’t sure what to do with her standing there.
“Please don’t stop.” She signaled the musicians to continue, and tried to smile despite the sudden harsh pulse of her blood in her ears. A vein at her temple throbbed against the jewels and glitter Tyne had so painstakingly applied to create a swirling masterpiece down either side of her face earlier that night. But though the music started again, only a couple of Draíolon resumed dancing. Everyone else stood in small clumps and groups, watching her, some whispering, some silent. Evelayn wasn’t prone to blushing, but she could feel her neck growing hot as the awkwardness continued to build. Where was Ceren? She would know what to do. Evelayn turned around, searching the crowd for her friend’s vibrant red hair, but she was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps Aunt Rylese had been correct after all—perhaps her place really was just to watch, to adorn her own party from afar.
The scent of citrus and spice tickled her nose a moment before a voice asked, “If I may be so bold, would you care to dance, Your Highness?”
Evelayn spun around to see Lord Tanvir bowing low, his hand extended. Her relief was instantaneous. “I would be honored, my lord.” She placed her hand in his and his fingers closed around hers, his skin warm and slightly rougher than her own.
“The honor is all mine, I assure you.” He straightened and there was that glint again in his striking amber eyes as their gazes met and he pulled her in toward his body so he could circle her waist with his other arm, placing his hand on the small of her back. Her breath caught as he expertly guided her across the floor in time to the music, her feet following his automatically. Within moments the other Draíolon apparently decided it was acceptable to continue celebrating, and Evelayn and Lord Tanvir were soon surrounded by other dancing couples.
“Thank you,” she finally said when it seemed that everything had returned to normal.
Lord Tanvir lifted one eyebrow. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I believe you know.”
He gave her a little smile, his hand flexing against her back. “My gallant attempt to assist you in the forest this morning?” Evelayn just gave him a look and he laughed. “No, that definitely is not what you meant. I take it that you have no desire to explain what happened to that poor tree before I arrived, either?”
“None,” she agreed.
“Well, then I am left to assume that you are thanking me for asking you to dance. To which my reply is that any time I can come to the aid of a fellow despiser of the formal conventions of our society is an opportunity I’d be loath to miss.”
Despite herself, Evelayn smiled back at him. “Ah yes, I forgot. I was supposed to be setting an example for you, so that you might come to see the error of your uncouth ways, Lord Tanvir.”
“A task at which you have failed miserably, because you look much happier right now than you have the entire evening, Your Highness. Flaunting the proper decorum for a princess seems to suit you.”
Evelayn wasn’t sure if she should laugh or chastise him, but when their eyes met and she saw the teasing glint in his, the laughter won, taking her by surprise.
“My aunt would be mortified to hear that.”
“Then we won’t tell her. Besides, she looks imperious enough for the both of you.”
Evelayn laughed again as she snuck a glance up at the dais. She wasn’t surprised to see Aunt Rylese’s hands clenched in her skirts, her expression a strange cross between irritation and what she probably meant to be a pleasant, proper smile.
“She means well,” Evelayn felt compelled to explain.
“As do many interfering and opinionated people. That doesn’t mean you must listen to them or do as they bid.” He spun her deeper into the crowd, farther away from the dais.
“She’s my aunt.”
“And you are the crown princess of éadrolan. I think your authority supersedes hers.”
Evelayn fell quiet for a moment, uncomfortable with the reminder of who she was—the reminder of the fact that of course he saw her that way. She was amusing and powerful to him, that was all. It had been silly to think for even a moment that perhaps he could truly understand her.
When the music ended, Lord Tanvir didn’t let her go right away.
“Have I offended you in some way, Your Highness?” He was only a few inches taller than she; their eyes were nearly on the same level, but she wouldn’t let herself meet his searching gaze.
“Of course not, Lord Tanvir. Thank you again for the dance.” She gently pulled back and he immediately let go, as if only then realizing the song had finished. “If you’ll excuse me.”
He bent forward into a deep bow, looking up at her from that position, and seemed about to say something else, but she turned and pushed through the crowd toward the doors that would let her escape the Great Hall.
THE MEETING, WHICH WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN “quick,” had long since become interminable. Lorcan was sure he’d been sitting in the same chair listening to the same arguments for the better part of the entire afternoon. Only the members of his father’s closest circle of advisors and generals were included. This was the meeting that no one else was supposed to know about. The plan King Bain had presented was both daring and dangerous. Only the handful of Draíolon gathered could know about it if they wanted to pull it off. But if it worked …
“It’s just too great a risk for you, Your Majesty,” General Maedre insisted, the same thing he’d been insisting all day. He had been a part of the inner circle for less than a year. “Yes, it’s unexpected. But it leaves you open to attack—or worse. If you manage to make it through the Undead Forest unscathed, you might succeed in killing her, but then you would be susceptible—you’d be trapped in the midst of their army!”
“You forget that if he succeeds and kills Queen Ilaria, her people will be rendered powerless immediately. They won’t be able to hurt him,” Lorcan’s mother, Queen Abarrane, pointed out.