I exhale and turn to Soria.
“This should do, no?” I say cheerily, a smile serving as my final accessory.
“Well now, who is this bold lady before me?” Pride beams from her laugh as she takes me in. “It will do quite nicely indeed.” Her hands flank my shoulders. “And if it doesn’t, I’ll be near should you need.”
“Thank you, Soria. You’ve been a dearer friend and ally than I ever wished for.”
She leads me from the room, where Vale and Ace wait to escort us.Vale lights at the sight of me, and warmth floods my cheeks as I fall into place at his side.
“Speechless? Well now—this is a first.” I lean into him playfully.
“You’re a vision,” he says softly. “They don’t know what they’re in for.”
I draw a steadier breath. He’d been so guarded when he told me we’d be dining with the most prominent members of the High Hold—councilors and courtiers, all with me at his side. It wouldn’t be a vast banquet full of entertainment. No—this was worse. Not the intimacy of the table just for us. Instead, all eyes would be on us.
On me.
A week ago, this walk would have felt like marching toward the executioner. Yet somehow, in these past days, I’ve begun to feel a sense of belonging. Vivid afternoons in the library with Ace; sanctuary in the conservatory when I needed it; nights burning in Vale’s arms… it all feels right. If this is what home could be, then it is worth fighting for.
We enter the room, already full and waiting. Twenty faces turn to meet us—smiling, expectant. I remind myself to breathe. To stand as though I belong among them. Vale places his hand over mine, resting where my fingers curl around his arm. A small gesture of affection; a greater gesture of public declaration.
Soria and Ace drift into the room, weaving among the gathering. They do not cling to my side, but their glances toward me—checking that I am faring well—mean everything.
We mingle; introductions follow. I smile, nod, answer—each exchange a careful step across unfamiliar ground. I stifle a smirk at a stray thread I notice on Lady Corrin’s gown, recalling Ace’s tales in the Solarium. Her husband stands tall despite his stout middle—once a man who commanded an audience with tales spoken in lingering bravado, now fading into disinterest.
The meek man in spectacles—whom I once saw trying to collect parchments spilling from his arms after a council meeting—is introduced as Fenloris.
“Our Master of Passes,” Vale says.
“Oh, more like minstrel of maps,” Fenloris refutes lightly.
I soften at the self-deprecating jab.
“I’d love to see them sometime—the maps, I mean.” I glance at Vale. “I know so little of Caerhollan and the lands beyond. I’d like to learn, if I may.”
The exchange is cut short as we’re directed toward the table.
“You don’t need permission, flame,” Vale murmurs for my ears alone. “I meant what I said that first night—Caerhollan is your home, if you’ll have it.”
I squeeze his arm before releasing him so he may pull out my chair. As at the banquet, I sit to his left, Odrin to his right, Ace and Soria farther down. But rather than the grand head table of the banquet hall, Vale takes the lone commanding seat at this long mahogany table.
I am grateful for the familiar faces near me, especially as voices from farther down call for my attention.
“Dear Mira,” someone calls—a man I scarcely recognize from passing glimpses outside Vale’s meetings—“how are you finding Caerhollan?” Vale introduces him as Commander Rhalin. Weathered as the cliffs beyond these walls, he offers me a nod, more respectful than curious.
The smile I wear is part facade, part truth. “Lovely is too small a word. It is truly a treasure.”
“She should see the Jewel,” another voice adds.
I lean forward to locate the speaker—an ageless woman whose beauty hides her history well. She seems to catch my unspoken question.
“The Jewel of Caerhollan—our southern hills,” she explains.
Ace leans toward me. “The manor, as we like to call it,” he says, lifting his goblet toward Vale. “His family home, high in a hidden valley.”
A soft light kindles in Vale’s eyes as he thinks on it.
“There are many treasures in Caerhollan,” Vale says, reaching across the table for my hand.
