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“We can’t do that with everyone,” he said. “Look at that line. We’ll have a riot in our hands.”
“The nobility isn’t known for their patience,” Lord Petret commented in the usual jovial tone of his.
The guard didn’t look convinced, but he was younger than Badden and perhaps didn’t want to argue with a lord like Lord Petret. He nodded and Lady Macill resumed her slow walk.
We followed them in.
No one stopped us.
Lady Macill and Lord Petret chose a longer route to the gardens than was necessary, but most of the nobles were doing that as well. I did not interfere. Lady Macill’s guard would not have known the Winter Castle like the back of his palm. And I was supposed to be that, and that only until it was time for more.
We did not run into any other guards while we were inside, though it seemed here the planning had been more intricate. Even the walls were decorated with the colors of Lugh’s sigil. No guards ushered us into the gardens as we finally reached the gates leading into them.
The garden looked more festive than the rest of the castle. The arches along the path leading to the tables were adorned with white flowers, and water danced between them, creating intricate patterns in the air. This display would continue throughout the night, culminating with a grand splash of water behind the bride and groom after the ceremony.
We walked on the white tiles laid on the ground, leading into the area where the others awaited for the wedding to start. Once the marriage was consummated, those tiles would turn silver, as was tradition.
But hopefully, none of that would come to pass tonight.
“Here they are,” Lord Petret gestured to our right, and only then I saw Dearen standing beside Lord Tynan.
Lord Tynan sat at a table which was full of food and ale already. He got up to welcome Lord Petret as we approached and Lady Macill took a seat beside them, giving me a chance to stand behind them.
Lord Petret reached to take a little sip of the ale before him, but when Lord Tynan leaned in to whisper something in his ear, he dropped his mug and never took it up again.
The servants continued to bring more food as the guests kept coming in. Dearen, Gethin, and I did not speak. I stood behind the two of them to make sure no one recognized me as we waited in silence like any other guard standing beside us.
The fae slowly settled in, enjoying the music and wine.
Upon closer inspection, one could discern the differences in the demeanors of those who were aware of our plans and those who were simply there to enjoy the festivities, but the clues were well hidden.
I did my best to play the part of a guard eager to attend a royal wedding while also making sure not to draw any special attention to myself.
The music stopped when the crier stepped onto the raised platform with two throne-like seats and a large table. He waved his hand at the musicians to stop playing, and at once, the garden fell into silence.
“King Lugh the Radiant!” the crier shouted. The music swelled as Lugh walked into the garden from the eastern entrance.
It was difficult not to scuff at the title that Lugh had chosen for himself. It disgusted me that he made everyone call him king, let alone ‘radiant’.
He swaggered into the garden, smiling at his guests and thinking himself the victor. His crown, perched arrogantly upon his head, sparkled with flashy gemstones, each one seemingly shouting its supposed significance.
I had to gulp down the hate. I saw Lord Tynan stirring as the crier waited until Lugh was seated.
“Princess Fiona!” the crier announced.
Fiona came out from the same door. Her eyes looked dull despite her usual beauty. My heart ached for my sister as she gazed upon the guests as though she could not comprehend why they were there. Then, without waiting for the cheering that rose from the crowd to end, she walked to the platform, and Lugh got up to receive her.
Her smile as she curtseyed before him took me off guard. She was likely pretending to not hate him, but still, it made my stomach flinch to see her being forced to feign an emotion she could not have felt.
Lugh waited until Fiona sat, and once they were both seated, his men gestured at the musicians to keep going. The crowd returned to the feast.
“Why didn’t they say anything?” Lord Petret asked, gazing over his shoulder without making it obvious. When I hesitated to respond, he gestured at me to come to them.
“I think something’s wrong,” he said once I leaned toward them to listen. I tried to look like a servant getting his orders, but hiding my face while doing that was a difficult task.
“It’s not,” I whispered. “They are waiting for Queill to come so that she will control Fiona to say whatever Lugh wants.”
“And once she controls her,” Lord Tynan said, his tone warning. “We might not get a chance to reveal the truth.”
