And all of a sudden, she was seven years old again, shrunk down to four feet tall, cowering without the cover of the tapestries she would so often hide behind when her mother’s slow footfalls would echo through the palace hallways. Waiting, as ever, to hear how this latest fuck up was her fault.
And hers alone.
???
The berating never came.
The Queen took to the dance floor, and Edward was soon deep in his cups, pontificating in his usual stern way to a gaggle of rapt Wielders and even a few doe-eyed courtiers, while Silas watched on with affectionate bemusement. Marry had politely taken the hand of a courtier’s noble young son and let him lead her out onto the dancefloor, and though her smile was somewhat forced, Adeline thought her sister was quite enjoying herself. In the end, the festive flurry of the feast worked well to distract the whole court. The music was magic, the spread exquisite.
The tension of the previous evening was seemingly forgotten, an irresistible contentment having settled over them all; only Adeline hadn’t fallen under its coaxing net. She couldn’t forget–perhaps the events of last night, but not their ordeal this morning. Even if Mareda was content to let it go. Even if Edward was flushed and grinning unusually wide, his booming laughter carrying across the hall to the head table where Adeline now sat alone.
The lake had cracked.Cracked.
She had seen it, had hauled Mareda fromits jagged maw before the frozen lake could swallow her whole. And now they were to accept that all was well? She couldn’t. It would be like watching the earth beneath the palace itself cleave in two, and stepping neatly over the chasm on her way to breakfast.
What in the name of Aera’s arse happened out there?
Adeline’s thumb was raw and bloodied by the time she caught Edward alone, staggering past the head table, no doubt on the way to relieve himself of many litres of wine.
He stumbled at the weight of her hand wrapped around his elbow, and blinked blearily up at her, taking a moment to focus.
“Hullo.”
She pulled him into the seat beside her, casting aside all the civility and formality that came with her role as a Senior Royal. Right now she felt like a scared little girl, and she needed a moment of reassurance from her sort-of Uncle.
“Did you fix really fix it, Ned?”
The old nickname fell easily from her lips, and she saw how he warmed to it, the tension in his brow softening at once. Edward clapped a hand over Adeline’s where it rested on his arm.
“We’ve been celebrating all night, little Ade. I can barely see straight for celebrating.” He laughed, a rough guffaw that she knew well enough, despite its rarity. He was drunk as an old grape, flushed and sweaty with his shirt hanging open wide enough to frame his thickly bristled chest and the age-dulled silver pendant he wore.
“Was anyone hurt?”
“Not a soul to be seen,” he assured her.
“Do you know what happened?” She pressed. “Howdid it happen?”
At her needling, some of the merry glaze seemed to clear from Edward’s vision, and Adeline almost felt bad for dragging him down from his high. But then he raised a thick brow and said: “Well no, I don’t. But I have to assume it had something to do with two grown ladies scampering about the ice with their blades drawn.”
Adeline swallowed against the sting.
He was right. She was almost twenty-two years old, and Mareda already twenty-four. They knew better. Theyshouldhave known better.
Still, she had to know; “Is that what you told the Queen?”
Edward glanced out at the dancing crowd, where Sebastian spun Selma around the floor, her skirts whipping out around her and her laughter ringing off the domed ceiling high above their heads.
“I told her that yourself and Mareda brought it to my attention, and that my Wielders brought it under control.”
Adeline squeezed his arm, pressing her gratitude into his skin even as a twinge of shame coloured her cheeks. All these years later, so much closer to a life of her own, and still she was that same mischievous child. Drawn to mayhem and impulse and poor choices, yet frightened as ever of her mother’s wrath.
“Thank you, Ned,” she said simply, hoping he’d feel the full weight of her thanks.
From the gruff edge to his voice, she thought he probably did. “Anytime, little Ade.”
Edward drew himself up in his chair, still staring hard at Selma as he tidied himself up, drawing his shirt closed over his pendant and brushing the hair from his eyes. They sat in thoughtful silence a moment longer, both locked on the laughing, dancing, carefree Queen.
New Winter was always a time of carousing and indulgence, but there was an almost manic edge in the air tonight. It was as though the whole court felt the joy radiating off their newly engaged queen, and had gorged themselves on it, messy and drunk on glee. Selma had been smiling wider, dancing longer, drinking deeper. But as Adeline watched, her mother’s laughter grew too loud, her dancing slightly off kilter.
