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Olivia, Zane’s blood rose, came up to her next. She had a very direct way of looking at anyone and didn’t hold back now. “Heard you kicked ass out at the lake. Well done, Rosamunde, and welcome to hell.” She laughed, which made Rosamunde smile in response.
But Olivia wasn’t all brass and kissed her cheek. It will all work out, you’ll see.
She wondered how Olivia could tell what she was suffering but the compassion in her eyes told Rosamunde she’d been in her shoes. All the women had. Zane greeted Rosamunde but Olivia quickly took him onto the dance floor. “Let’s party!” she shouted. Olivia was all wolf.
Regan moved close to her, with Ian beside her. Ian thanked her for her service in sustaining the veil of mist and for her part in defeating Margetta at the lake. “It was my pleasure. It felt so good to be doing something.”
“I get that,” Regan said. Regan led a fae retreat in which for centuries she’d trained young fae in wisdom and skill. “Once I learned of your existence in Ferrenden Peace, I often imagined that your isolation had been extremely tough to bear. Knowing how important community support is, I hope that you’ll think of me, and of your blood rose sisters, as your community. We have a loop, for one thing, and we deal with a lot of very specific blood rose issues. You’re welcome to join us any time.”
“I’d love to.”
Batya came to her last with Quinlan at her side. Rosamunde smiled. “And how is your daughter?”
Batya dipped her chin. “Viola is beautiful, the light of my life and my heart.”
Rosamunde felt a swell of knowing pass through her, a strong fae response. “She’ll be the new queen, soon.”
Batya glanced at Quinlan. “We know. Vojalie was with me at her birth and confirmed what I’d known nearly the whole time I carried her.”
“She’ll be wonderful, especially with the both of you as parents.”
Batya’s eyes glowed. “Thank you so much.”
Quinlan took her hand and kissed her gloved fingers respectfully. “You’ve served the Nine Realms extremely well, and I want to thank you for your service.” Quinlan’s voice, deeper than even Stone’s, eased something inside Rosamunde.
“And I appreciate you saying as much.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome. And now, I’m hearing a slow song and I want to dance with my woman.”
Rosamunde pressed a hand to her chest as the couple moved away. All the mastyrs were dancing now as well as at least two hundred of the most exalted personages in the Nine Realms. Even Davido levitated Vojalie around the floor. When the couple passed by, he winked at her.
Stone was answering questions from several men who looked like a variety of puffed up city officials. She could see his choler rising and decided she’d had enough drama for one night.
She went to him and caught his eye. The look of relief that spread over his face nearly made her laugh. He wasn’t a politician at all.
She kept her composure and pulled her queenly rank on the men who each bowed to her in turn.
“Sorry to take Mastyr Stone away, but he promised me this dance.”
Stone excused himself then drew her into a wonderful swirl of movement that was half-levitation. She followed his lead and for the next several minutes allowed herself the pleasure of just being with Stone, moving to the music and being held in his arms.
She felt young and happy and gave herself to the unusual delights of the gala.
Later, dinner was served in an adjoining banquet room and all the ruling mastyrs and their women sat at a long head table. Dozens of toasts followed. The trolls present often leaped on the tables and did a jig, their feet being an active reflection of emotion.
After desert and coffee were served, Stone rose to make the final toast of the evening. He
spoke for a couple of minutes about the Federation and what it meant for the ruling mastyrs to at last be able to work together against a foe as powerful and dangerous as the Ancient Fae. “Please rise and lift your glasses.” When everyone had gained their feet, he finished with, “To the Federation of the Nine Realms.”
‘Here! Here!’ resounded through the room.
After a fourth glass of champagne, and perhaps because it followed on the heels of her own glass of Scotch as well as a martini, Rosamunde was giddy. She kept encouraging the nearby trolls to outdo each other on the tables and so they did. She couldn’t remember laughing so much in her entire life.
More dancing followed until one by one, the various ruling mastyrs took their women back to their rooms. Because Stone was the guest host of the festivities, she knew he felt obligated to stay to the end. Though he finally drew the line at remaining to watch several drunken trolls playing craps.
Rosamunde walked with him back to the foyer where a hotel maid stood with her wrap, waiting for her. Rosamunde thanked her and Stone placed it over her shoulders.
As she moved with him to the front walk, the street was quiet. Gone were the news crews. In their place, several hotel employees canvased the sidewalk, picking up any debris that had been left behind.
