Since Westley’s family had not arrived yet—in fact, none of the realms’ representatives had arrived—he was introduced first. Alone, he descended the stairs, feeling incredibly foolish with all eyes on him.
Noren waited at the bottom of the stairs, snickering. Westley wanted to punch him.
They nursed their drinks at the far corner of the hall, watching the citizens of Asgard drink and be merry. Mortals not only worked as servers but also enjoyed the party as guests, dressed in their best attire.
It was not just lords and ladies in attendance but commoners in their finery as well.
Westley’s throat bobbed, finding it difficult to swallow. His gut told him something was off—no place could be this perfect.
He had to find some flaw in Asgard, some hidden secret that revealed all of what he saw as rotten. If there wasn’t, then he’d devoted fourhundred and eighty-one years to the wrong Fae, regardless of where he was born.
His stomach churned as he thought of the atrocities he’d committed against Asgard, the cities he’d flooded in the name of the gods.
How many innocents had given their lives for no other purpose than Idavoll—Ragnvald—coveting more power?
The doors at the top of the stairs opened and a trumpet blared, announcing the arrival of the Giants.
“Introducing Their Majesties King Tyrell Haraldson and Queen Consort Hulda Griddottir of Jotunheim, and their son, His Royal Highness Prince Maddock Tyrellson with his betrothed, Lady Noma Frodedottir.”
Westley’s brows shot up—he hadn’t been aware that Maddock was betrothed.
The Giant royals entered, nodding at the modest applause they received as they descended the stairs. They were dressed in the colours of their lands, icy blues and cold indigos, washing out their already pale skin.
When the four reached the base of the stairs, their attendants fanned out around them, fluffing their gowns and capes. Even for Giants, they stood quite a bit taller than usual, rising head and shoulders above the tallest Fae in attendance.
Westley took a peek at their shoes, and sure enough, they wore heeled boots and raised platforms. He had to hide his smile.
The Giants were quite sensitive about their shrinking height. Even Maddock was a couple inches shorter than his father.
They didn’t have much time to fritter about because the trumpet sounded again and the doors opened to allow the next group to enter. The Light Elven came through the doors next and Westley’s teasing smile turnedgenuine.
“Introducing Her Majesty Queen Eir Revnadottir of Alfheim and her sons, Their Royal Highnesses Prince Vali Eirson, Prince Steffen, Prince Henny, and Prince Bo.”
Queen Eir descended, followed by her sons—the four brothers Westley had known growing up. He made his way to the front, excitement bubbling up like he was a faeling who knew trouble was right around the corner.
It had been an age since he’d been in their company, and he was surprised none of them were married or betrothed yet. The four eternal bachelors of Alfheim.
The white and silver clothing of the Elven complemented the marble staircase as they gracefully descended, looking much more at home in Asgard than the Jotunheim royals. Vali noticed him first, his smile turning wicked and dark eyes twinkling. His long blond hair hung loosely down his back, twists pulling the strands away from his face to showcase his high, pointed ears.
He was glad they had accepted Koa and Aelfsi’s invitation. This party would be a great deal more exciting with the Elven brothers in attendance.
“West!” Vali exclaimed, coming towards him. They gripped forearms in greeting and Westley beamed at his old friend.
“How long has it been?”
“Too long,” Steffen said, coming to stand beside his eldest brother.
“Your mother looks well,” Westley said, inclining his head.
“She always does. That old crone just keeps on living—ow!” Henny flinched as a delicate pale hand cuffed the back of his head.
“Your Majesty,” Westley said, bowing low to Queen Eir. A smile danced on the Queen of Alfheim’s lips as she took him in.
“Prince Westley, it is good to see you. Try not to destroy any palaces today, please, we haven’t enjoyed a good party for aeons. I’d hate to seeit ruined.” She gave him a knowing look and Westley smiled sheepishly, heat prickling his neck.
“Yes, Your Majesty, I think I can manage that,” he replied with another bow.
Queen Eir glided off to greet guests and Bo snickered behind his hand. Henny punched him.
