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That little purple book stared at me from my dressing table as Carly finished braiding strands of aquamarine into my hair. Lugnasa was upon us, the festival of purification and light. Another instance when nearly every elemental—male and female—would be dressed in symbolic white.
I had no idea what the terrestrials would wear, or how they marked the occasion.
But as I swathed myself in deep teal, I wondered if I would have more in common with them than my own courtiers.
Once Carly stepped away, Charis stepped into her place and fixed a diamond choker around my throat. She reached for my ears, but I waved her away. They were already sparkling with the amorite studs and silver hoops that pierced the flesh from the rounded lobe all the way to just below the pointed tips.
“Go,” I insisted, waving toward the door. “Enjoy yourselves.”
They exchanged a look. “Your Majesty, we cannot possibly neglect—”
“I will see to her needs tonight,” Cyara said, breezing in from the washroom. “So long as you two promise to find other beds for the night. I will not have you disturbing the Queen.”
The two handmaidens looked between me and Cyara in shock, as if not certain whether to believe what they were hearing.
Cyara crossed her arms, wings flaring behind her. “Go before I change my mind.”
The two younger sisters needed no further urging. The bedroom doors had hardly closed behind them before their squeals echoed back to us.
Cyara rolled her eyes and adjusted the shoulder strap of my gown. I smiled despite myself. “It would not bother me if they came back tonight, they are quiet enough,” I said.
“Not after a glass or two of aural,” Cyara countered. She brushed away some invisible speck of dust and then stepped back to examine me. “It is Lugnasa. I’m certain they will find company for the evening.”
She was right, of course. The festival symbolized purification, but there could be none without corruption. While the sun was high in the sky, the fae court would dance in swirls of shining white and glowing lights cast by the fire-gifted among us. But when the sky turned the many courtyards of the goldstone palace dark, so too would the activities of those who danced beneath it. Light was for cleansing. Night was for debauchery.
I had no doubt that my beautiful handmaidens, freed from their duties for one night, would find more than one willing partner should they wish it.
Apparently finding my appearance acceptable, Cyara turned to the little corner table, returning with two steaming cups of tea.
“Will you be partaking in the evening’s festivities, my lady?”
I sipped my tea and avoided her eyes. “I am duty-bound to attend.”
Truth.
But I’d also been thinking about what might happen after the sun faded from the sky.
“Is your betrothed familiar with our customs?” Cyara asked, sipping serenely as if we were discussing the weather.
I shrugged, the gold and silver bracelets on my wrists jangling. “Gwen is, I’m certain. Perhaps she has filled him in.”
“If not, it would be your duty to do so.”
I bit on my lip to keep from laughing nervously. Ancestors, why was I nervous? “I suppose so.”
Cyara looked at me with such knowing in her eyes, I felt five years old and five inches tall.
“It is nothing,” I insisted. “Arran and I are… nothing.”
“You and Parys were nothing,” Cyara observed, astute as ever.
“Precisely. It is the same.”
Now I could see Cyara biting her lip. “If you say so, Majesty.”
“I do.”
Cyara only nodded mildly. “Very well. I will await you in my chambers,” she dipped a curtsey. “Unless you need something else?”
