She is stunning, and when she smiles, I feel like I would die to keep that look on her face.
“Shall we?” I ask.
The smile grows brighter, and my heart stutters when she slips her hand into my arm.
We walk to Hammerhead Hall, past our bustling city. For the first time in a long time, it is bursting with people.
Flames tall enough to extend over the buildings fly into the air. The pleasing crackle of the fire joins in with the pleasing tunes that pour out of the singers.
When we arrive, the festivities have already begun.
We are greeted warmly, and we go to stand near Mrath. Shelounges in one of the chairs, watching as Niht dances rather poorly with Glyni, the elf.
As Estela and I both take the seats at the end of the table, she looks at us and laughs.
“My, aren’t you two a proper couple,” she says, smirking.
Estela smiles, but I see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.
“How are you this evening?” she says, conversationally. Politely. All the manners that she has learned with Liana come to the surface in this moment.
Mrath swirls the wine in her cup. I watch it, knowing that it is not something we had under the mountain before her arrival.
“Well enough. Your people are heartier than I remember from my youth.” She takes a long drink. “They wouldn’t let me visit with your kind. My father kept me hidden to ensure that I wouldn’t fall in love with one of you and bring his kingdom to its knees.”
Her eyes go to Estela. “Imagine thinking that one girl’s love could destroy a whole kingdom.”
Estela swallows. “I think love is rather powerful.”
Mrath smirks. “Oh?”
Estela traces the plate that was set out in front of her.
“I’ve seen obsession change an entire court in a matter of months. And I’ve seen love…” she glances at me revealing a bit of her changed heart, however briefly, and it sets my soul on fire. “...change a heart—the stoniest of hearts—in half the time.”
Mrath makes a disgusted sound. “Gods. If this is how the trolls always were, I’m glad I was sequestered in my room.”
I cross my hands, smiling. “Do you not wish to dance? Your women seem to enjoy it immensely.”
All of our gazes turn back to the drunken joviality around the fire. The women have linked arms, kicking out their legs and chanting in time with the singers.
The elf twins, Farryn and Elanila, grab a cloak from one oftheir sisters. They’ve been with us since we retrieved Estela and have proved to be valuable trainers.
Everyone watches as they theatrically wave the fabric in the air in front of Niht, a true friend of the elves it seems. Seconds later, when they drop the cloak he runs behind one of the beams as if they had performed some great magic.
Younglings, whom I can’t remember allowing at this party, scream with delight, and all of the elvish women howl with palpable mirth.
Estela huffs out a disbelieving laugh. Thorne, who has taken a seat next to Mrath, looks over at my wife, immensely amused. The joke is too simple, ridiculous, and not something I would expect from a group of murderess women. I can’t help but laugh as well.
“Yes, well, women are peculiar, marvelous creatures,” Mrath starts, as if needing to explain her sisters.
Whatever she was going to say next is cut off by the sound of slow clapping.
It precedes the thick, black mist that curls across the ground.
Mrath and I bolt to our feet, turning to the source of the sound as the music stops, and the laughing is silenced.
Three women stand in the entrance to the open hall wearing black cloaks and gowns. Their hoods are down, revealing painted faces, dark hair, pale skin, and black eyes.
