Chapter 2 Celebration

The great hall had been completely transformed by the time I finally made it downstairs. Every single chandelier was lit, and the long windows were thrown wide open to let the cool night air drift through the room. The breeze mixed with the scent of candle smoke and the fragrance of a hundred different flowers. Caron had apparently spent the whole afternoon coaxing those flowers into early bloom just for the occasion.

Whatever terrible mood she had been in earlier, she had clearly set it aside to make sure the palace put on a spectacular show. She was always good at that, and I had to give her credit for it.

I was wearing a navy blue gown that fit me perfectly, showing off my shape in all the right places. The front was a little lower than what I usually wore, and the exposed cleavage made me feel a bit uncomfortable and self-conscious.

Isolde had chosen the dress for me, which explained why it was so daring.

My father found me standing at the base of the stairs, offering his arm the way he always did when we walked into a crowded room together. He made me feel like I was someone he was truly proud to be seen with, and I never doubted that he meant it, not once in my entire life.

"You look beautiful," my father said.

"So do you," I told him.

My words made him laugh, because Elder Michael Dal Verst in his formal royal robes always looked a bit like a man who would rather be absolutely anywhere else, preferably sitting quietly in a corner with a good book.

The King and Queen entered the hall not long after us, and the entire room rose as one single wave of colorful silk and bowed heads. I watched King Edric look at his wife the exact same way he always did, proving that twenty-three years of marriage had not dulled a single thing about how he saw her. Across the crowded room, Isolde caught my eye and grinned. She mouthed something to me that I could not quite make out over the loud music, though I was fairly sure she was saying something about time.

The evening unfolded the way it always did at these grand palace balls. There was a lot of dancing, with young and old nobles crowding the floor, showing off their status and their fancy clothes.

I scanned the ballroom for a while, looking for Isolde. When I finally spotted her, she grinned at me, looking completely breathless from dancing, her hair already coming loose from its careful pins.

"Come on," she said, pulling at my hand. "Dance with me properly, you have been hiding in corners all night."

I let her pull me back into the moving crowd, and for a while, I did not think about anything else. I forgot about Caron’s strange mood from that morning, and I forgot about the heavy weight my mother’s words had carried out in the garden. None of it mattered in that moment. There was only the sound of the music, the sound of Isolde’s laughter, and the sight of my father across the room telling some story to a cluster of elders. The elders were clearly only half listening to him, since they were too busy watching the Queen’s dress catch the warm candlelight as she turned on the floor.

Near the end of the dance, I caught sight of Tristan standing at the edge of the floor with his arms crossed. He had clearly made good on his promise about the dessert table, judging by the small plate balanced carefully on his palm.

"Having fun?" I asked, ducking out of the crowd to catch my breath beside him.

"Watching you have fun," he said. "Someone has to make sure you actually enjoy yourself instead of standing in corners all night."

"I was not standing in corners," I said.

"You were absolutely standing in corners for the first hour," he joked.

He handed me half of whatever sweet treat was on his plate without even asking if I wanted it, which I did.

"Caron has been perfectly civil all night, by the way," he mentioned, leaning closer. "In case you were wondering."

I glanced across the hall and found her standing there, laughing at something one of her friends had said. The flowers woven through her hair looked beautiful, and for a moment, she looked simply happy. It was easy, in moments like that, to believe that whatever tension had been sitting between us that morning was much smaller than it felt. It felt like something that might just dissolve on its own if I simply gave it enough time and enough good nights like this one.

Near midnight, the King rose to give his toast, and the entire hall went completely quiet around him as everyone lifted their glasses. I remember thinking, as I stood there between Isolde and my father with the candlelight warm on my face, that I could not imagine a single thing that could touch a night like this one.

I remember thinking that exact thought right up until the doors at the far end of the hall opened. They hit the wall hard enough to be heard over the loud music, and everything after that moment stopped being ordinary at all.

The musicians faltered first, one instrument trailing off at a time, the way a song does when the players notice something the dancers have not seen yet. Then the dancing itself slowed down, and couples turned toward the entrance. I felt Isolde’s hand find my wrist beside me, gripping me tight before either of us even understood why.

A man stood in the doorway, still dressed for rough travel rather than a formal ball. There was thick dust on his boots, looking like he had ridden his horse hard to get here before midnight struck. I did not recognize his face, but I recognized the royal crest stitched into his collar well enough. Judging by the way the color completely drained out of my father’s face beside me, he recognized it too.

The King’s toast died on his lips. The whole hall had gone completely silent now, with five thousand people holding their breath all at once. Into that heavy silence, the man in the doorway spoke, his voice carrying easily across the massive space that had been full of music only a moment before.

"Forgive the interruption, Your Majesty," he said, though he did not sound sorry at all. "But I bring word that absolutely cannot wait for morning."