“You can get it done in time?” Durae asked.
“If Lady Mae can procure the ore, I’ve been working with a metalsmith for some of the other pieces. If she can get it madetomorrow, then I’d have a day to enchant it. I’ll have to miss the dance.”
Durae clasped Blaze’s hands in his and squeezed him tightly. Despite the sadness bubbling in him, Durae smiled at him. “I don’t think our courting is ending anytime soon. There will be other dances. Actual balls, at some point.”
“I was looking forward to seeing you all dressed up,” Blaze said.
“Well, I’ll just have to stop by after I spend an appropriate amount of time socializing,” Durae replied. With a hopeful side-glance at his mother, he silently asked if he could skip the event altogether.
“A few hours among your other suitors would be appreciated,” Mama said.
Sighing heavily, Durae deflated. His shoulder brushed against Blaze’s. “Yes, Mama.”
Blaze chuckled and kissed Durae’s temple. “I’ll do my best to make it.”
Durae leaned into him. As much as he wanted Blaze to be with him, he couldn’t drag his focus away when important work was in front of him. He traced slow circles on the back of Blaze’s hand. “Don’t worry about the dance. You’ve come too far to fail now.”
“Thank you for understanding,” Blaze said gently.
“Of course,” Durae replied. And he did understand. He did. After all, he and Blaze had only known each other a handful of days. They had forever altered his life, but he couldn’t make Blaze choose him over the invention. Too much was at stake for Blaze.
So instead of complaining, Durae swallowed his disappointment and enjoyed the few more moments he had with Blaze before they had to separate for the night. Their kind lived very long lives. His heart had no reason to sink.
It did anyway.
CHAPTER 15
Each event at the Ceremonial Pavilion had been elegantly decorated for the festivity, and the night of the Dun Steorra dance was no different. A long table hosted a variety of drinks, everything from carafes of teas and bitterdews to casks of fermented ciders. Another table was filled with tiny cakes and small treats. The arrangement mirrored the various peaks of the Drycreaft and Quicksilver mountain ranges. Floating orbs imitated the celestial bodies in the skies, slowly drifting between their various places to mimic how the stars were at home or at the southern edge of the continent. From time to time, lines appeared to draw out the constellations. Whenever that happened, a soft chorus of awe would circle through the gathered elves, interrupting their flirting.
Durae wished it would interrupt them longer. Seeing others fawn over their potential partners—or betrothed, as many were preparing for marriage at the end of market, which was at the week’s end—only made Blaze’s absence a gaping hole through which Durae’s good mood vanished.
“You’re particularly sour this evening, Raerae,” Uleyri said quietly. Between the music and the general noise of the crowd, no one else was likely to hear her.
“I’m being unreasonable,” Durae said with a sigh.
“When are you not?”
Durae rolled his eyes. “Riri!”
She laughed and nudged his arm. Her dress was a pale gold that shimmered, and his robe was a deep midnight blue that shone black. The details of her outfit were the same blue, and his tunic was a matching gold to her dress. They’d picked them out together like they’d done so many things. Now, in the center of the celebration of their culture, he was aching and upset while she was thrumming with excitement.
He wanted to be happy for her, but his jealousy was a vicious thing, worse than walking the cliffs without shoes.
She seemed to finally notice his bad mood wasn’t lifting with her teasing. With a sympathetic smile, she pulled his arm into hers and walked him toward the refreshments. “I’ve never seen anyone make you so moody.”
“It’s a special night,” Durae muttered. “I … I know I came into this not wanting to marry, but I expected to. And tonight ought to bethenight.”
“The?”
“A proposal if not a confession of love,” Durae sighed. When he caught Uleyri’s pursed lips in the corner of his eye, he sagged. “I told you. I’m unreasonable.”
“You’re not terrible for having a dream,” Uleyri replied. “I take it your recent hopes have settled on a certain Gearwickian?”
“I had a plan.” Durae pulled a box from his pocket.
“What is that?” Uleyri said.
“I wandered through the marketplace the other day, and this trinket made me think of him. I was going to give it to him tonight and say, ‘Let’s decide what happens after the market ends.’ I want to have that conversation with him, but with the setback of his invention, his focus needs to be on the next fewdays.” Durae slid the box back into his robe. “There is no need to rush.”
