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They had just reached the trees when a peculiar wind bushed over them. It rustled the fabric of Cera's robes and seemed to pull at tendrils of her hair.
She shivered.
The air had been sedate until then, and the chill of the wind was at odds with the temperate afternoon air.
Coming to a full stop, Maewyn sighed and rolled her shoulders, then turned once more.
Cera didn't have to ask. Even without the wind, some part of her had known Isael was nearby. Was he the thing she'd been forgetting?
He was walking with four others, but Isael was the first to come into focus. Not for the first time, Cera was struck by how different he was from the others. It was not only in his pale hair, or the antlered crown atop it. Nor was it merely his height or the broadness of his form, where others were lithe and sylphlike.
Perhaps it was in his walk. The way he seemed to glide, while the others plodded alongside him. Maybe it was the cool serenity of his face, or his strange aura around him that she could never quite focus on.
A phoenix among pigeons.
Maewyn thought he was the grandson of a god, and as fanciful as that notion was, Cera could understand why.
Isael was radiant.
Her pulse hitched as she drew closer to him, close enough so that she could see his eyes slide over her. She searched his face for any sign of what he was thinking. Perhaps it was self-indulgent, to think that he would be excited to see her after they'd only just been together the night before.
Shecertainly felt excited. And also anxious, and self-conscious, and a million other things that made no sense.
His companions took notice of her a second later, giving Cera no choice but to tear her attention from the high lord.
"Oh, by the stars, look at her," a woman crooned. She spoke Elven with a nasal accent that was incongruous with her petite form and youthful face. Darting ahead of the others, she rushed to be the first to reach Cera.
Maewyn stiffened as the woman approached, but she stepped aside to allow the woman a clear view of Cera.
"How precious. Silver hair, porcelain skin, and those eyes. She's like a little doll."
Cera was accustomed to being sized up and objectified, and the woman's assessment was far kinder than anything her father or the queen mother had ever said about her. Still, she found herself struggling not to bristle at being objectified in front of the high lord.
"But these clothes," the elf said, her pretty lips curling in apparent distaste. "So plain, and what is this? I do not recognize these colors."
"They are the colors of Atera, mir solina," Maewyn supplied.
"Ah," the elf said, her distaste only deepening. Turning back to the others, she said, "Allow me to lend you the services of my tailor, mir aesolin."
Cera didn't fail to notice the sudden purring lilt in her voice as she addressed Isael.
"Are you implying that I am incapable of acquiring the services of a proper tailor, Fioris?" Isael's cool words were at odds with the indulgent look he gave the elven woman.
"No, not at all," she said. "I only want to unburden you from such trivialities. In fact, if you need a woman to take charge of managing her, you must not hesitate to call on me. A few years under my tutelage and you'll scarcely remember she's the granddaughter of an Ateran selondis."
Cera didn't recognize the last word, but she could guess what it meant by its context. Yet another thing she was accustomed to was being reminded that her maternal grandmother had been a brothel lady. But she hadn't expected that information to follow her here, or for it to be bandied about so casually in front of Isael and other no-doubt important elves.
Face growing warm, Cera shifted her gaze to the meadow. As she feigned interest in the grazing deer, she attempted to compartmentalize her shame.
"A generous offer," Isael said. "But I wouldn't dare to waste your time with such trivialities."
She heard Fioris begin to interject, but Isael went on speaking. "You all must excuse me, I have other matters to attend to." In Ateran, he added, "Come, Cera, I will walk you back."
Her head jerked up to see that Isael had already turned, heading back down the path that led toward the walls of the citadel.
Cera gave the elves a quick, awkward bow of her head before following after the high lord. She expected Maewyn to follow as well, but she remained where she was. Only Fioris made an attempt to tag along, walking a step ahead of Cera.
"About the matter we were discussing, mir aesolin. I will try to persuade my father, but I don't know that he will budge on it. He can be terribly stubborn."
