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"You look lovely," he told her, speaking as if it were only the two of them present.
Cera's mouth ran dry. Unsure what else she could say, she simply replied with a quiet, "Thank you."
Isael lifted his hand, giving it a flick in the direction of the others. All at once, the chatter at the table resumed, as if they'd all been waiting for permission to speak.
"Princess Cera," crooned an unfamiliar voice.
She looked away from Isael, toward his right where a man was practically leaning onto the table and eyeing her with interest. Her first thought was that he was handsome, in the way that most elven men were. He had the slender frame that was typical of his race, dark blond hair falling down to brush against his shoulders. His face was distinguished, with deep creases framing his lips. The age lines were at odds with his skin, which was as smooth as a maiden's, though somewhat oily.
"Is that how you would be addressed in Atera? I believe the title suits you. You have a very dignified bearing." He spoke her language well, even managing to affect the nasal pitch of the Ateran aristocracy.
Before Cera had to decide whether and how to respond, Isael came to her aid.
"Cera, this isCasean Esolin, Lord of Virashindel, the territory which surrounds Viranhildr."
Cera thought she had heard his name before, though she wasn't sure where. Due to the insular nature of the elves, their modern politics and even the division of their territory was largely foreign to outsiders. Until that moment, Cera had assumed that the citadel was a part of the surrounding land.
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Casean."
The lord's dark eyes gleamed like polished marbles. "Please, you must call me Casean. There is no need for such formality while we break bread together. The aesolin was right to note your beauty. You are the picture of Triandruir radiance. Just seeing the pair of you together, it transports me to another age."
She wasn't sure what he meant byTriandruir, but as she took another look down the table, Cera began to understand why others seemed to be making a fuss about her.
For most of her life, she'd divided elves into two categories, southern and northern. Southern elves were a mixed race, an amalgamation of what had once been the elven tribes of the south, as well as centuries of crossbreeding with humans. Some were indistinguishable from humans, save for their pointed ears and overly wide pupils. The rest had faces that were unnaturally narrow, particularly around their jawlines, which often sloped into triangular chins. All were generally taller than their human counterparts, with lithe builds and willowy limbs.
When she pictured northern elves, she imagined beings that closely resembled humans. They had their elven height, but broader jawlines and bright eyes that were more ethereal than unnerving. In her mind, they were all otherworldly, with pale hair and skin that appeared to glow.
But now, sitting amongst dozens of northern elves, she was surprised to see that many looked an awful lot like the elves she'd grown up around. They were dressed in fine clothing and possessing of elegance that would put any human noble to shame, but the resemblances were undeniable. Most had dark eyes and narrow builds. Some, like Maewyn, had the same ivory skin as Isael, but just as many had skin the color of mahogany. There were even a few more exotic colors, such as shades of purple, blue, and green.
Even Casean, now that she looked at him with new eyes, bore little resemblance to how she'd always imagined a northern elf. His arms were overly long and thin, making her think of a spider. His coal colored eyes did nothing to help that impression.
"The power of the catalyst really is quite astounding," Casean said. Cera now felt uneasy as his dark eyes moved over her. "I wonder how far it extends. Does it only affect her appearance, or has she also acquired the Triandruir affinity for magic?"
"It is much too soon to say," Isael responded coolly.
"She's hardly been an elf for a day," said a familiar voice. Esodir strolled up to the table without fanfare, claiming the empty seat opposite to Casean. "She'll need time to acclimate before we start prodding her to learn magic."
He looked more mature in his formal attire of gold and green. His blond hair was pinned back into a tight bun, giving his face a stern look.
"Quite true, young lord," Casean said, his face hardening as Esodir sat. Turning back to Cera, he said, "In any case, I wish you both a bountiful union. Esryia has not been the same since the fall of Ishvalier. It would bring great joy to many, to see the aesolin with a proper heir."
"I could drink to that," Esodir said, smacking his hand down on the table. "Where is the wine, Uncle?"
Isael cast a distasteful look at Esodir's hand, waiting until the younger man had lifted it from the table before responding.
"It will arrive with the meal. You would know that, if you ever joined us."
The tension between the three of them didn’t bother Cera. She found it revealing. She would have gladly sat amidst it for longer, but the food began to arrive and shifted everyone's focus.
Their end of the table was the first to be served. Above the table was a network of lights that appeared woven into the vine-like carpentry. They provided ample illumination, accentuating the bright colors of the foods arrayed on the table.
Just like her breakfast, the food was served on communal trays, replete with fruits, vegetables, breads, nuts, and all manner of dips and sauces. It was obvious that her meal with Isael had been carefully curated, because nearly all of the foods were unfamiliar to her.
"Wine?" Esodir asked her, after pouring himself a cup that was full to the brim. He offered her a crystal pitcher, which Isael took before Cera could reply.
"Would you like to try some?" Isael asked, first filling his own glass halfway. "It's not overly strong."
"Yes, thank you," she said, feeling a bit uncomfortable watching him pour her a drink. Her father had never poured his own drinks, nor had he poured drinks for others. It was servant's work.
