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I bit down on my lip to stifle a grin. “You have my word, Myrinn.”
I walked until my legs ached, winding up through the city as though climbing mountains in zigzagging lines. Faenir nor Myrinn showed any effort or exhaustion, whereas I could have fallen to the floor and given up.
By the time we finally slowed to a stop before the grand construction of timber and stone that overshadowed the parade before us, I finally found out the true meaning of relief.
I glanced over my shoulder and admired the thunderous crowd of elegantly dressed elves who had flooded in behind us as we had passed them; it seemed the entire city was here.As I swept my attention over the crowd, I was suddenly aware of just how many of them looked to me and Faenir. Anticipation for our presence was seemingly the most exciting part of the day instead of the pending Joining Ceremony that would soon begin.
The crowd fell to their knees in a bow. It happened in a wave of movement that took my breath away. I almost believed it was in reaction to me, but that misplaced thought quickly dwindled when I turned back around to see the true reason for the display of respect.
Before the door of the impressive construction stood two figures, standing high above us.My heart skipped a beat at the sight of Haldor whose arm was outstretched, aiding the hunched women at his side.Queen Claria was held up by Haldor as though her own minimal weight was too much for her age to bear. Yet no matter how frail and ancient she looked, her gaze screamed with power and authority as she swept it over the city.
Myrinn cleared her throat, which should have been a subtle sound, except the silence around us made it sound monstrous. I looked to my side to find empty space. She, like the rest of the city, was kneeling. Her eyes were wide in a signal as she watched my own horror bloom.
I realised that Faenir and I were the only ones left standing. It did not go unnoticed.
Claria’s wrinkled face pinched into an undeniable scowl before she was blocked by the crowd who stood tall once again and erupted in cheers.
“If today had the chance of going well, then I think we have just spoiled it,” I spoke to Faenir softly, whose gaze seemed to be lost to a spot in the distance.
He blinked, snapping out of his trance, then turned his full attention to me; I almost buckled under the weight of it. “Respect should be earned,” he replied. “Not granted because of the metal placed upon your head.”
There was a storm that passed behind his narrowed eyes. His reaction unsettled me more so than Claria’s. “What is wrong?”
“All of this,” Faenir answered. “I will be content when we can leave this city and return home.” He reached out and plucked a crimson petal which had fallen upon my shoulder. I released a hardened sigh as he touched me even only for a brief moment.
“You always seem to be in a rush,” I said, watching him pinch the petal between his fingers. It wilted and died, turning brown and falling to the ground at his feet.
“I wonder why.”
“You do not deny it?”
Myrinn cleared her throat again, but it was no more than white noise as I focused on the elven prince. He leaned in, both of us hearing the collective inhale of the crowd who watched us. Faenir hesitated as though remembering how exposed we were. He almost pulled away before I scolded him.
“Don’t you dare,” I said, eyes narrowing. “Touch me. Let them see… even if the reason is that Claria will hate it. Do it.”
His eyes flicked in the direction of the Queen as though concerned what she may do if she saw. Then that emotion dissipated within a breath. Faenir’s hand lifted to my chin, took it within his thumb and finger and guided my face to his. The kiss was soft and far different to those he had laid upon me the night prior, yet the symbol was clear enough. The crowd had seen that I, unlike the petal he had taken from my shoulder, was left living and well.
I understood their collective shock. Such a simple, mundane act had made the people of Neveserin see Faenir in a new light, different to the picture Queen Claria had painted him as.
“Is that better?” Faenir asked.
“Much,” I replied.
Myrinn’s hand found my shoulder and Faenir shot her a look that had my knees quivering. She removed her hand almost immediately, but her voice was still firm and guiding. “Your presence will displease grandmother greatly, let our tardiness not contribute to her mood.”
* * *
For the entire length of the long and painfully drawn-out ceremony, Haldor watched me like a hawk studying a mouse. I tried not to reveal just how much his stare caused me discomfort, or how it reminded me of the underlying threat he gave me during the ball… and what happened after.
My legs became numb from standing as Claria slowly wrapped golden cords around Frila and her human’s arms. It was laborious to watch and more so to hear the calling of pleased sighs and comments from those around us.
All the while he watched me. I wished to either escape from Haldor’s line of sight or scream threats at him to stop looking.
Haldor had spent more time staring at me instead of paying attention to his human Claim, Samantha. She noticed, grimacing at his lack of interest. I could tell from each perfectly curled strand of sun-bleached hair to the fitting dress of the deepest ruby that Samantha had tried everything to physically capture her elf’s attention.
And, for my sake, I wished it had worked.
I had fought myself not to tell Faenir for fear of what he would do. Myrinn also didn’t notice as she watched the Joining with tearful eyes.
