Page 24 of Crownless Heirs

Sorcha swallowed, running a hesitant hand over the sheer material. It was impossibly soft, softer than silk, like what she imagined touching a cloud would be like.

Pleased with her reaction, Korat continued. “The skirt will flow,” she gestured downward, “fitted at your hips, then spilling out into a cascade of movement, like the night unfolding. And at the very ends…” She reached for a piece of embroidery, silver and intricate, woven into swirling celestial patterns. “A final touch,” she murmured, her smile softening. “For a queen who carries the stars.”

Korat, sensing her hesitation, softened her voice. “What do you think?”

Sorcha traced a single silver-threaded star at the hem.

“I think,” she whispered, “Maelan has good taste.”

Korat replied “Oh, he does. He was very… particular.” Her gaze twinkled with mischief. “Said something about you needing to look like the sky itself bowed to you.”

“So. Shall we make you into a goddess?”

Sorcha smiled. “Yes.”

Silk draped over the furniture, ribbons, and flowers adorned every surface, and the air was laced with the scent of rare Cait Sidhe oils, like narcissus and frangipani. The perfume was a combination of honey, coconut, and apricot. Inside the grand dressing room, all of it faded into the background. Sorcha stood before an ornate mirror, still as the attendants fussed over her final touches. Her gown shimmered like a midnight sky kissed with silver dust, the deep blue fabric cascading over her frame, cinched at the waist before flowing into a subtle, embroidered train. Her hair flowed down, its thick waves curling softly, and silver blossoms from the sacred tree held the sides in place. They glowed faintly, as if touched by the same magic that had marked her. Korat’s final touch had been the makeup, a delicate, feline sweep of charcoal, lining Sorcha’s striking eyes, a subtle wing that enhanced the deep, shifting hues of blue, green, and gold. Korat tinted her lips with cherry powder, a red stain that was both soft and striking. She hardly recognized herself. Sorcha exhaled slowly, running her fingertips over the silver embroidery at her hips.

“It’s done,” Korat proudly announced, stepping back to admire her. “You’re ready.”

A knock sounded at the door and before Sorcha could speak, Kyron stepped inside.

Korat’s gaze flicked between them, reading the shift in the air instantly. With a knowing glance, she gestured for the other attendants to follow her, whispering, “Give them a moment.”

The door clicked shut behind them. Kyron just stood in entrance of the room as Sorcha turned, meeting his eyes. For a long moment, he simply stared. His eyes drank in the sight of her, the gown, the silver blossoms in her hair, the way the candlelight caught on the faint shimmer of the embroidered train.

His throat bobbed. “You look…You look beautiful, Sorcha.”

She folded her hands in front of her, watching him carefully. “Thank you,” was all she could manage to say.

He shifted, darkness flickering across his expression. His hands clenched at his sides before he forced himself to relax them. “I don’t like this,” he said abruptly, voice low, rough.

Sorcha sighed, already knowing where this was going. “Kyron ”

She sighed, stepping closer. “Then don’t but I need to do this.”

He stared at her. Then, before she could react, his hands were on her waist, pulling her close.

He searched her face, his breath uneven. “I should have told you,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Sorcha swallowed. “Told me what?”

His fingers tightened slightly. “That —”

A knock at the door interrupted them.

Kyron tensed, jaw clenching as the moment shattered between them.

On the other side, Korat’s voice was a low whisper. “I hate to break up whatever’s happening in here, but it’s time.”

As Kyron turned to leave, he smiled at her, his fingers brushed against hers for the briefest second, grabbing hold for a moment before he let them slip away. Sorcha was left standing there, heart pounding as the doors opened, and the court was waiting.

Sorcha stepped forward into the courtyard, the hush of thousands settling over her like a wave. The entire kingdom had gathered, Cait Sidhe of every rank, standing shoulder to shoulder, their eyes fixed upon her. Torches lined the pathway, casting golden light across the stone, while above, the night sky stretched wide and infinite, a sea of stars mirroring the constellations embroidered into her gown.

She forced herself to keep moving; her breathing began to speed up and dizziness crept in. The moonlight cast a faint glow on the silver blossoms of the sacred tree where Maelan stood. An elder Cait Sidhe, dressed in exquisite ceremonial robes, stood beside him. As they watched her approach, Maelan’s face contorted into a look of sheer surprise and awe. He stood among thousands, but in that moment, she knew she was the only one he saw.

The white tunic he wore fit perfectly, hugging his broad frame, its collar dusted in gold, the hems of his sleeves and edges adorned with constellations that shimmered faintly in the firelight. Golden embroidery similarly traced his black pants. A thick gold armband gleamed on his biceps, and around his neck, a heavy chain held a moonstone, pale and luminous, mirroring the light of the sacred tree above him. Sorcha swallowed hard, her hands clasped together tightly in front of her. So tightly her hands bloomed a deep red color. Her gown whispered against the stone as she stepped forward, the deep blue fabric catching the light, silver dust sparkling overlaid with stardust. The path seemed endless and at the same time too short. Maelan’s gaze never wavered, and as she came to a stop before him, he took her hands, his fingers warm against hers.

In a voice low, meant for her and her alone, he whispered, “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”