I dance and move like the wild flame. Untamed and free, my red skirt catching in the air as I twirl and spin. A rhythm that is alive carries me. I do not fight it.
When I finally stop, every part glowing with new life, I all but crash into Vale’s chest. My hands resting over his muscles, the world keeps spinning around me. Yet he and I are frozen in time. The air around us warms, the torches flicker and glow. And just for a heartbeat, as if the room itself inhales, I no longer hear the music, only the beating of his heart beneath my palm. There is only us.
Brute force pushes me aside, knocking the air from me and shattering the moment. The music stops, no illusion from my state, it halts and the crowd falls silent. An old woman dressed in a fine gown, wine goblet in hand dripping on the floor, shakes her crooked fingers my way. “Mira of Caerhollan,” she says with poison in her tone, tilting her head slightly back with a laugh. “You are not daughter of Caerhollan” she spits at me, lifting the glass to her lips once more, “and you never will be.” The hatred in her voice shakes me to my core.
“Watch your words,” Vale says low and sure, landing with weight while avoiding causing a scene.
I step back, a chill prickling at my skin. The room has gone cold, dark even. Every torch and lantern dims. The pleasant, lively glow of the chamber stills. Odrin and his guards move in hurried steps to Vale’s side, awaiting his command. A bumbling man stumbles up, attempting toexcuse the crone. “My lord, I am so sorry. She doesn’t know what she says. The wine…”
“Take her now, before I have time to think on this unacceptable behavior,” Vale’s voice dark and low, each syllable a dagger meant to protect me.
Odrin leads the couple out of the hall, and Ace signals for the band to play on. I vaguely sense people starting to mill around me in an uneasy manner.
Vale is still seething, anger radiating off of him like steam.
“It’s alright.” I reach for him, loosening his first and threading my fingers through his own. “I am unharmed.” The truth of it is an anchor, even as something unsteady moves through me. I cannot stand to see him like this. Had that been a threat more than words, I shudder to think what he might do.
Soria approaches, calm and cautious in a poised statue of a woman. At times, she is a greater warrior than any of us. She casts a smile wide enough for all to see. “Eyes are on you both,” she says without breaking the facade meant for others. “What do you want them to see?” A gentle but stern reminder. Vale resets and reaches his arm for me, leading me to the dance floor once more. The musicians take their cue and shift to a slower tune.
There is comfort in the formality. Me locked in Vale’s hold, our hands outstretched as he leads me across the floor. We find our way back to the quiet ease. To each other.
Slowly but surely light and warmth fill the hall once more. The candles glow brightly. Our love shining true.
I refuse to let the hate of one woman take this night from us. From me. Is it selfish of me to love their king? Is it just one woman though? Wine may have loosened her lips too much, but how many choke back their own hatred right now?
No. I won’t let her get to me. Tonight, I am Mira of Caerhollan. And soon, soon I will be their queen.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sleep doesn’t come easily. Even wrapped in Vale’s arms, I find myself restless. He sleeps, the glow of the dying hearth molten across his form. I step into the night. Velvet green wafts in on the cooling breeze as I stand on the balcony set just outside my chamber. Dim moonlight draws silver lines across every ridge and peak.
I remember my vow. My promise to this land. I may not be able to heal its scars, but I will fight for it all my days. My hands stroke at the cold balcony wall, its edges rough against the soft skin of my palm. I’m comforted by how solid it all is. The weight of this palace, far more looming than it was when I first arrived. It is the fortress within which I will build my future.
It’s more than these walls, though. The mountain keep, the valleys and worn paths winding through each craggy climb. Every blade of grass and pebbled stone—all a part of the land I now belong to.
Air plays across my skin, and I feel held by nature itself. I am reminded of the cottage in the woods. The glade that felt so magical in bloom. It’s even more otherworldly than those in the conservatory. Ever since the solstice, the blossoms have stayed lush and full. Well beyond what the season should allow.
Something prickles at the back of my neck. I withdraw from outsideand return to bed. Vale stirs, ready to soothe me had some nightmare taken hold. I no longer feel haunted by that relentless pull. The nights grant me peace—for now. It’s the days that leave me rattled. Niceties laced in pretty ribbons, lovely yet binding. I settle back in his arms and slip into slumber until morning light.
Morning comes, and with it a new rush of preparations. I receive comforting words from many. The drama of the night before is not forgotten or ignored, but the focus seems to be on my place in Caerhollan, my vow, and the wedding drawing nearer each day.
“It’s been so long since we have had anything this exciting,” Brindwyn fawns at the usual table in the Solarium. Even Milandra joins in the excitement, still circling back to her own potential engagement any chance she gets.
“Will you have ladies with you, or shall you walk the aisle alone?” Carynth asks, each of the ladies leaning in expectantly, perhaps hoping to be included in the ceremony of it all.
“I believe alone,” I say, honestly not sure of all the details, given how much information has been passed to me without end.
I let them continue speculating, doing my best to stay present—though my gaze drifts across the room, wondering how many share the opinions of the crone at the banquet. I have not seen her nor her husband since that moment, and I suspect I won’t any time soon. I don’t dare ask what will happen with them.
Ace continues my education in the library, Fenloris always indulges my desire to learn more of the surrounding lands in his office, and Soria has now taken on the mission of preparing me to be a lady of the court any chance she can. With her mother having been the main caretaker for the princess, she is no stranger to the decorum and the role of a queen.
I appreciate her more than words can ever express; I strive to be a diligent student, yet I find my mind straying often. Never too far off topic, a moment spent thinking on the late queen Sylara, I long tounderstand the woman as much as her role in the kingdom. The role I am now charged with stepping into. She was the queen, yes, but also Vale’s mother.
As Soria tries to ease me into what is expected of me, a deep ache takes root in my heart as she recounts how Sylara stepped into a different role when Vale took the throne. A grieving widow, she still guided her son. Yet through sorrow—her daughter in a far off land, her husband lost to the treacherous arctic pass—she stepped back. I don’t ask too many questions. Not to Soria, not to Vale. They both lost too much that day too.
I struggle trying to strike the balance between understanding but not prying. Between reaching for hope but respecting the pain. The hope I hold dear—for a future I now fight for—comes twined with the responsibility of bringing that same hope to all of Caerhollan. I remind myself that brighter tomorrows are slow work and a journey I must take one step at a time.
I carry Soria’s words with me long after she’s gone—unable to escape the pain no years can erase.
