Nox and Thraigg went next, hoods drawn over their faces. Then, with a tight-lipped smile, Kit followed, running her fingers through her shaggy hair and pulling it over her ears as she exited.
Elyria was alone.
She took a steadying breath. It was time to slip on her mask, to don her status as victor with pride, to ready herself for this farcical dance. She shook her head, as if doing so might wipe away the uncharitable thought. There was far more at stake here than pride and inconvenience. It wasn’t as though Elyria wanted to sabotage this fragile peace—and not just because she wanted the freedom to come and go as she pleased, but because she knew it wasimportant.Knew that this could very well be the start of a new age, a new dawn.
Elyria’s mind blanked for a moment, her fingers tightening on theedge of the bench.
“From bitterest rivals to heartbreaking ends, two bloods shall find their way. Through sacrifice, darkness, and friendship betrayed, as dawn brings a new day.”
The words of prophecy had played on a loop in Elyria’s mind since the Crucible ended, Aurelia’s multi-tonal voice still ringing in her ears. They had sacrificed; they had waded through the darkness...Solaris knew they’d had friendship betrayed. It was about time to get to this new day shit.
No, Elyria would not be the one to fuck this up.
Still, though, as the murmurs from outside the carriage started to crescendo, and as the reality of being in Kingshelm—inhumanterritory—began to fully set in, it didn’t make her any more eager to step into her new role.
“Are you all right, my lady?” Elyria looked up to see a slight green hand held aloft a few inches from her. Young Shep was leaning back in through the open carriage doorway, waiting patiently, the furrow of his sylvan brow from beneath his hood the only sign of his discomfort.
“Please, Shep,” she said, “it’s just Elyria. Elle, if you like. But no more ‘my lady,’ yes? Believe me, I am nobody’s lady.”
“Yes, my?—”
The daggers Elyria stared into him must have been very sharp indeed, because he cut himself off with a wince. Pulling her staff from the carriage ceiling, where she’d secured it during the journey, Elyria sucked in a deep breath. Then another.
So fucking stupid,she thought bitterly. She slung the staff over her shoulder, letting it rest against her open back. Then, with a sigh, she pulled the hood of her cowl over her head, covering her delicately pointed ears and periwinkle braid.
“All right,” she told Shep, finally taking the sylvan’s proffered hand. “I’m ready.”
4
UNWELCOME
ELYRIA
Descending from the carriage,Elyria tossed a glance to the palace gates. Onlookers crowded around them, craning their necks for a glimpse at the arriving delegation. At the Arcanians who now had both feet firmly planted on Havensreach soil.
Elyria wondered what the general populace thought about this entire affair—the accords, the delegation, the celebration. A quick look at the crowd had her feeling as though there was a fairly equal split of curious stares and disdainful sneers, but she didn’t get the chance to examine it further. Not when, just as she caught up to the rest of the party, the courtyard exploded in a cacophony of ceremony.
The large, ornate palace doors cracked open. A herald ran out, wearing a scarlet tabard that bore the symbol of Kingshelm—a three-spired crown set inside a circle, embroidered in bronze thread. He blasted two shockingly loud notes into a trumpet, making the gryphons at Elyria’s back bristle.
The cadre of knights she’d spotted before suddenly surged forward, forming two parallel lines on either side of the inlaid stone walkway that cut through the sunny courtyard. Scores of nobles emerged from the palace, smiling and clapping and issuing words of welcome.
It was a deeply unsettling reception, especially given that they had specifically chosen to arrive a full two days ahead of the planned welcome celebration. They’d wanted some time to acclimate, to meet with the human king and his trusted advisors in privacy, to work out any potential issues and soothe unease without prying eyes and listening ears.
So much for that plan.
Instead, it was as if the entirety of King Callum’s court had gathered for the occasion. Elyria’s emerald gaze swept over the gathered humans, taking in the polish of the knights’ ceremonial armor, the nobles’ pressed doublets and satin dresses, hair elegantly coiffed, hands clean. Elyria glanced down at her wrinkled traveling clothes, smoothing the sleeve of her blouse out of reflex. She had the sneaking suspicion this was all very much on purpose.
It also appeared as though the deceptively spirited welcome was getting harder to maintain the longer the Arcanians stood there. After those first beckoning trumpet blares, the herald had disappeared. Even Dentarius seemed unsure as to whether they were to proceed forward or if they were waiting for something, for someone.
Smiles became tight. Hands began wringing. More than a few human nobles failed to school their faces as their attention narrowed in on Nox, Thraigg, and Young Shep—the most visuallyArcanianmembers of their party. Even with hoods drawn, there was no disguising the sylvan’s vine-tattooed green skin or Thraigg’s dwarven stature. And there sure as all four hells was no hiding the toweringeverythingthat was Tenebris Nox.
A giggle bubbled up in the crowd, perhaps too quiet for anyone but those with fae ears to hear. Elyria stiffened. She could see it in the nobles’ eyes, could hear it in their whispers. It was subtle, hidden beneath layers of courtly manners and royally decreed diplomacy, butit was there.
Mockery. Disdain.Fear. Was this carefully curated display—thisfarce—what they had to look forward to for the next several weeks? Already, Elyria was exhausted.
“Ellie,” Kit whispered, nudging her gently.
Elyria blinked. She barely realized she’d removed the staff from her back, one end grinding into the stone at her feet, her knuckles white around the shaft. For support? In preparation? She didn’t quite know.
