She retreated into the palace, her fur cloak whispering against the dying grass as she went. And I stared after her, inwardly grumbling about politicians and their machinations.
31
Einar
The entire water court had shown up at Castle Usciete. Six long tables were laid out in the ballroom for the welcome feast, every single seat taken by a water fae. Representatives from each of the four clans—lake, marsh, ocean, and ice—had traveled far and wide to be here, to confer with their fellow house members on how to deal with the potential power shift in Ediria, and to meet Adara, Ediria’s long-lost princess and potential future queen.
I could feel Adara’s anxiety through the bond, but to her credit, she hid it very well. Seated between Prentis and Lady Axlya, she was the picture of poise and grace as she schmoozed and made small talk with the other clan heads.
I wished I could hold her hand under the table, or offer her some small level of comfort, but Lady Axlya had insisted on placing me toward the end of the table. “It is imperative that Adara acquit herself as a water fae at tonight’s feast,” she’d told me when I’d tried to argue against it. “Your presence at her side will only remind the others of her half-dragon heritage.”
“Or perhaps you’re simply trying to give Prentis more time to win her over, since he can’t compete with me,” I’d said dryly.
She’d raised an eyebrow, but didn’t bother to deny it. “Be grateful I’m allowing you to attend at all,” was all she’d said.
So here I was, seated at the opposite end of the table, watching as Prentis made every effort to charm Adara, cracking jokes and telling her grand tales about their water fae ancestors.
The only clan leader who didn’t seem to be actively taking part in the conversation was Tamil, the ice fae seated to my left, sandwiched between the two other members of her traveling party. She merely observed the goings-on at the table with a pensive expression, absently swirling a fingertip across the rim of her wineglass as she did. She was the only one here who didn’t seem to be entirely comfortable in the lavish surroundings, and I felt a reluctant kinship with her.
Setting my own wineglass down, I leaned over a little so I could talk to her. “Are you going to actually drink that?”
Tamil’s mouth kicked up at the corners. “I was wondering when you were going to speak to me,” she said.
I raised an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume I would speak to you at all.”
She smirked. “We’re the two outcasts at the table, Einar. It’s inevitable that we would band together against everyone else.”
“Outcast?” I snorted. “I hardly think that your peers would lump the two of us in the same category.”
“Perhaps,” Tamil agreed, her voice a low murmur, “but I promise, there is no love lost between me and Lady Axlya. In fact, I’m pretty sure that you are the only one in this room she likes less than me.”
“Is this one of those ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’ speeches?” I asked skeptically. “Because I can promise you—”
“No,” Tamil interrupted. “This is one of those ‘the friend of my friend is my friend,' speeches.”
“You would call yourself a friend of Adara?” I challenged.
“Her mother was one of my closest friends,” Tamil shot back. “And I can see that like Olette, Adara’s ice magic runs strong in her. She will always have friends at the Bala Oighr. And therefore, so will you.”
Before I could think of a way to respond to that, Lady Axlya stood at the head of the table. “Members and allies of House Usciete,” she called, the chatter in the room dying away. “Thank you for coming to Usciete on such short notice to discuss the dire matters facing our kingdom. As you all know, King Aolis has recently passed, which has thrown the matter of succession into doubt. He left no heir, and although Lord Prentis—” she briefly nodded at Prentis— “was the clear successor last time, we have recently discovered that the late Princess Olette left a child behind.”
She paused for effect, then said. “I’d like to introduce Adara, daughter of Princess Olette and Prince Daryan, granddaughter of King Cyrian, and the prophesied savior of Ediria.”
Adara slowly got to her feet and moved to stand by Lady Axlya, allowing everyone to get a good look at her. She wore a floor-length, sleeveless gown of forget-me-not blue that looked like it had taken an army of seamstresses to sew, a delicate filigree pattern embroidered in white thread across the skirt and bodice. A circlet of sapphires sat atop her crown of braided hair, and the dressmaker had sewn a gossamer cape into the shoulders that flared out behind Adara as she slowly turned around the room, giving her an unmistakably regal look.
“It’s an honor to be here,” she said once she’d finished meeting the eyes of every noble and courtier gathered in the room.
The silence stretched on for a few moments before someone spoke up. “Forgive me,” Lady Ria said, a farce of a polite smile stretched across her sallow skin, “but thisisthe same Adara who murdered King Aolis less than a fortnight ago, correct? Do you really think that we can place a king slayer on the throne, regardless of her reasons behind the slaying?”
Adara flinched at the wordking slayer—a barely perceptible jerk of the head, but one that a roomful of people trained to spot even the slightest weakness would have seen. “I did not murder King Aolis,” she said in a voice of steel. “I defended myself from his attempts to enslave me, or kill me in the attempt, which unfortunately resulted in his death.”
“Don’t start,” Tamil drawled when Lady Ria opened her mouth to chime in. “We all knew King Aolis was rotted to the core with shadow magic. We’ve been waiting for ages for someone to either off him, or for the shadow magic to kill him. Adara’s done us all a favor, and you know it.”
The ballroom erupted into a cacophony of arguments, some siding with Adara, others agreeing with Ria. Adara had committed a necessary evil to protect the realm, they all agreed on that. Even so, it was bad optics to put Adara on the throne after she’d killed the king. What kind of example would that set for the others? Wouldn’t that encourage the other clans to challenge the monarchs to combat trials so they could steal the throne for themselves?
Adara was doing her best not to let the judgement of her fellow water fae affect her too strongly, but I could see in the tightness around her eyes, and the stiff way she held her shoulders, that their criticisms were hitting hard. Outrage on her behalf welled inside me, and the feeling turned downright murderous when Prentis surreptitiously took her hand and gave it a squeeze. Why wasn’t the bastard leaping to defend her, instead of taking advantage of the opportunity to hold her hand like a pair of teenage sweethearts?
Eventually, Lady Axlya called the room to order. “That’s enough,” she said, her voice somehow melodic and firm at once. “I did not bring Adara here to be put on trial for the death of King Aolis. Lady Tamil is correct—Aolis was corrupted by shadow magic, and while we will always be grateful to him for eradicating the dragons and bringing peace to Ediria, the fact remains that toward the end of his life, he could no longer serve Ediria the way he needed to. That’s why he scoured our realm every year looking for a child of ice and fire—because he was convinced that Adara would be the one to do what he couldn’t, to restore the balance to our kingdom.”
