Page 51 of The Sun King's Noon

When he turned back, Dain was looking at him with an expression Richard did not like in the least. He’d seen it before when Dain puzzled out an enemy’s strategy. A dawning comprehension as if all the pieces had just arranged themselves neatly into place.

“Lad,” Dain said slowly. “There are many dazzling women here tonight.” He looked down into the hall where Selwyn stood by the doors, her brown dress plain beside the jewelled ladies around her. “But none compares to the sight of my wife. Wrinkled, she is, with stiff knees and knobbly hands. And to me, she is the most beautiful creature in all the world. Every time. Always.”

Richard blinked. It wasn’t like Dain to be so poetic. “I see.”

“And that, lad”—Dain clapped his shoulder—“is what love means.”

Before Richard could ask what in the gods’ names that had to do with anything, the music grew louder.

At the foot of the stairs, the herald—the same wizened man from the jousting tournament—struck his staff and bellowed, “Announcing His Majesty, Richard of Ardenia, King of the Sun Throne. Son of Haldric the Mighty, who vanquished the Blight Necromancer. Son of Aralynn the Kind, who foretold the Great Storm. Guardian of High Ardenia. Slayer of blood-trolls. Vanquisher of enemies. Shield of his people. Keeper of his kin. He who walks into fire and creates the dawn.”

Richard sent the satisfied-looking herald a bemused glance. Since when did he have so many titles? Perhaps Vikram’s entrance had inspired the old fellow.

“How is my crown?” Richard muttered, giving the corset’s hem a final tug.

“On your head,” Dain grunted, offering his arm. “Let’s go.”

With a sigh, Richard took the arm and descended towards the light.

CHAPTER 21

The opening dance belonged, by tradition, to the crown. Richard led Elara onto the floor as the musicians started a stately, gliding melody. Her right hand settled into his, and her left rested on his shoulder. She wore a gown of orange silk, and her hair had been swept into an elegant bun. With her necklace of snowdrop gems, she appeared, for a heartbeat, a younger vision of their mother.

Richard allowed Elara to lead. Years of shared tutors had drilled the old Ardenian court dance into their bones—spiralling turns, dips and lifts, and gentle tilts. Much like sword drills, he did not need to think for his legs to move. One step, two. Spin. Lift her. Sweep into a spiral. Three, step, four.

The crowd that circled them left a wide berth. Richard focused on Elara’s smile. Since their quarrel, she had been keeping her distance, spending most of her time with Penelope, and ducking around hallway corners if she spotted him approaching.

He’d missed her.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Richard said, drawing close.

“Only tonight?” Elara raised a brow.

“You are intolerable.”

“You love me regardless.”

“I do,” Richard said. “Very much so.”

Elara’s face softened. “Brother.”

Richard spotted the Estaran princess smiling at them by Corwin’s shoulder. “Penelope…she is a good woman. Had she been sired by a different man...” He grimaced. “I cannot let you go to that terrible place, Sister.”

Elara shook her head with a sad smile. “Do not think too much, Brother.” She squeezed his hand as the music drew them close again. “Be happy for this moment.”

That brought Richard no comfort, and when the final chord rang, they separated. As the hall clapped, Richard bowed to Elara, who curtsied low, and the floor opened to the gathered guests.

Within minutes, the marble was a swirl of colour and noise. Ardenian lords and ladies danced together, while Frostheim soldiers stamped through their own dances. Two of Seola’s shieldmaidens spun a pair of serving girls so vigorously that one turned a pasty green. Near the musicians, three dryads had joined hands with two fauns, and all moved in a merry circle, the dryads’ leafy locks flying in the air.

King Vikram, Richard noticed, danced astonishingly well. He did not attempt to follow the Ardenian court dance, and instead, moved his limbs to the rhythm. Seola watched him a while, then snatched him for a round.

Bright laughter reached Richard from the other side of the room. He turned to see Kaelen clumsily leading Ravi into an underarm turn. Kaelen trod on Ravi’s foot, and as the dancer fell, Kaelen caught him around the waist. They dissolved into giggles.

Richard looked away so quickly that his neck twinged and was almost grateful when he was pulled into a dance by a duke. Thereafter, Richard found himself dancing without pause, passed on from lady to lord, and then to Corwin, who yankedRichard through the turns, then attempted a lift that nearly dropped both.

“How are you already drunk?” Richard exclaimed after Corwin bumped into a passing faun.

“Seola challenged me to a drinking game!” Corwin grinned, his face flushed, and his midnight-blue corset stained with wine. “By the gods, can the woman drink! In another life, Brother, I would have asked for her hand in marriage.”