“Apologies,” Lio says, stormy eyes alight with glee. “That seems too promising to miss.” And he scampers after the other two demons, weaving in and out of the crowd with deft efficiency.
Chancing a look back towards Valenar, I’m left with no indication of how that first interaction went, his face carefully neutral as he sips the wine Velmarch brought him.
That expression changes in an instant, his eyes widening as he sputters in his goblet and hastily reaches for my arm, trying to drag me away.
“Valenar?” comes a cool, firm voice. “Will you not do the honor of introducing us?” The woman who speaks is tall and thin, a drawn arrow more than a willow branch, her dark hair pulled back so tight it makesmyeyes water.
“Be careful Sylar—”
The woman’s sharp green eyes snap away from me to meet Valenar, and his words fall short in an instant.
“Your Grace,” he continues, clearing his throat. “It would be unwise to insult the king or his bride,” he says, displaying the most neutral demeanor I’ve seen from him yet.
“Insult? I come only to pay the customary respect,” the dagger-eyed woman wearing scaleskin that seems more fit for the battlefield acts appalled at the mere suggestion. Her overblown reaction is all I need to see to brace myself. “Introduce us,” she says, her voice as chill as the frosty air.
Through clenched teeth, Valenar complies, “Her Grace, Guardian of the Sacred Groves, Emerald Blade, Duchess Calessevan…and His Grace, her consort, Duke Calessevan, allow me to introduce—”
“The human bride, yes,” the duchess says with a smile like a wolf. “What interesting times we live in.”
“We welcome you to our reach, Bride-Ascendant Ingrid,” the duke says, his appearance less severe, but his voice just as haughty.
“My family has tended the Sacred Groves from the time of the first root,” the duchess says, every word spoken like she’sexplaining something very important to a small child. “We have offered stewardship and protection for generations, and always the Grove has prevailed. I pray that it may once again find the strength to weather such an…unprecedented change.”
My throat tightens, embarrassed tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, but I refuse to let this woman see she’s gotten to me. I’ve dealt with her type before—born into a position she’s convinced she earned, granted every advantage while claiming constant adversity—and I won’t be the quiet country mouse she expects, if only to see that smug expression vanish.
“I hope the Grove can forgive me, Your Grace. I am only going where I’m led,” I say with all the charm I can muster in such a terrible moment.
“How quaint,” says a demoness with elaborate decorations ornamenting her bowed horns. Her voice drips like honey as she pushes her way into our conversation, leading with her ample bust like it’s a battering ram. “You are quite a brave little human, aren’t you?” she chirps as she closes the distance.
“Baroness Bastel,” Valenar says in my ear without further commentary. Guess I’m on my own now.
Nothing new then.
The baroness is the duchess’s complete opposite. Where the Emerald Blade is tall and thin, composed and efficient, Baroness Bastel is plumper, shorter, and a riot of expensive-looking fabrics, colors, jewelry, perfumes—it’s sensory overload. The duchess is remarkable purely for the terrifying aura she emits, but Baroness Bastel has gone out of her way to make herself a spectacle in any way she can.
“I beg your pardon?” I ask, head already beginning to hurt from her overwhelming perfumes.
The baroness laughs, a high, dry, fake sound that makes my skin prickle. “A Bride-Ascendent begging! Quaint indeed,” she laughs that horrible fake laugh again. “You must be an awfully brave human to attend The Presentation without your betrothed… Or is this how your kind courts scandal?”
Another awful laugh from the baroness, and even the duchess’s lips seem to twitch into a hint of a smile.
Heat flushes through me, my heart hammering so hard I’m sure they can all hear it. Valenar clears his throat behind me, as if he can sense what’s building in me, but I’m beyond keeping him happy. He’s been less than helpful this whole time. It’s not like Iaskedto be here; and if Iamto be the future queen, shouldn’t they show a bit more deference?
Anger, exhaustion, my newfound confidence, or some combination therein has my mouth moving before I can stop myself.
Doing my best impression of the duchess’s cool, detached tone, I say, “I may not yet know your customs, my lady, but I do believe insulting one’s host is considered rude in all civilized societies.”
The duke’s cool facade breaks with a surprised smile, and Valenar suppresses another sputter into his wine goblet.
It’s a small victory that I can’t afford to lose.
“Come,” I say to Valenar, turning away from the nobles. “I would like to be introduced to those who represent Emerald’s virtue, not only its pride.”
For a brief, harrowing moment, I’m walking alone away from the gathered group, convinced that Valenar will leave me to drown on my own. Luckily, his long legs allow him to catch upto me in a handful of strides, and the only thing he says over my shoulder is, “Well done.”
Somewhere in the crowd, there’s a hoot and a bark of laughter that makes Valenar’s feline ears turn toward the sides.
“Val-en-ar Qal E-dir,” a smiling demoness says, enunciating each syllable like its own word before breaking into a hearty laugh that’s contagious, even if I don’t know what’s so amusing. She pushes through the gathered socializing groups and dancers, shoving other demons aside rather than going around them.
