"I'm nervous." Blayre confessed, taking a sip from the mug of hot tea she held.
Blayre and Rory sat companionably in his study - though he'd wanted to continue to visit her room in the dormitories, she had insisted that this week he needed to stay where it was safer. There were too many strange people wandering around the palace grounds and she wanted him where the guards were already in place to protect him.
And if she was being honest, after that first night that he had visited her room, she wasn't sure if she could fully trust herself to have her guard up around him at all anymore. And that was dangerous. She could not allow him to put himself at risk, especially when he felt a false sense of security around her.
"And why might you be nervous, lass?" He inquired, not lifting his eyes from the book he was reading. "Nothing has happened."
After the events of coronation day, all either of them wanted to do was sit and relax. Blayre had melded herself into one of the comfortable red armchairs in Rory's study. The soft leather cradled her as she curled up in the chair, hugging her knees to her chest, a steaming mug of tea on the end table beside the chair.
"Exactly." Blayre retorted dryly. "Nothing has happened, despite a very public threat."
"Perhaps that is all it was - a threat." Rory's voice was steady and gentle. Blayre looked up to see that he was watching her.
"You need to be more pessimistic." She chided, but looking at him, she couldn't help but break out in a grin.
They stared at each other silently for a moment and then Blayre looked away, heat rising from her core. The platonic conditions of the current state of their relationship was far too difficult, especially when he looked at her like that. When his eyes had gone all soft and dreamy, and she knew that if she reached out and touched him, he might lose all autonomy and be hers to command.
"You'll dance with me tomorrow, won't you?" He asked.
She had lifted the cup of tea partway to her lips but her hand froze at the inquiry.
"I - it wouldn't be -"
"Blayre," His eyes narrowed and his voice pleaded. "We will be surrounded by people, nothing will happen. But I don't want to miss out on an opportunity that I may never have again." He reached across the space between their chairs as if he was about to touch her but she flinched away.
"I don't know ... maybe. It's late. I - I need to go." She began to scramble from her chair, brushing the remnants of the crumb cake she had recently enjoyed, from her pants.
"Blayre, don't..."
She almost buckled under that gaze, and that pleading look that flickered in the soft glow of the mage lights, turning his eyes more green than blue. Almost.
Deep breaths, Blumore. She had had to use that technique too often lately.
It pained her to know she was hurting him. But she had to pull herself away, and push him further. She couldn't let that door open again, not right now. It was the only way to keep him safe.
"I can't, I have to go. I will see you tomorrow though." She added, to sound less harsh. "Remember," She said more quietly, "This was your choice, not mine." She had been ready to let go of everything. To throw caution to the wind for him. And he had been honorable.
It appeared that he was regretting it now. But that had been before the rebel's threat on parade day. As she brushed past Ripley and the guards, and entered into the hallway she considered that the threat had been a harsh reminder that the safety of the royal family was nothing more than a mirage.
"Leaving the Duke's chambers so soon tonight, Seeker?"
The voice was both familiar and yet one she had never heard spoken to her before. It sent a chill down her spine just the same. Blayre turned cautiously toward the alcoved balcony where a tall figure was silhouetted by starlight.
"Your Grace." She nodded to Duke Lonan of Flurhill, and made a move to run for it - well, to walk as fast as she possibly could.
"Not so fast." Duke Lonan grabbed her upper arm and it took everything in her power not to smack his hand away.
She looked up into obsidian eyes. "I have a proposal for you," He said then released her arm and beckoned her into the alcove. Every instinct she had screamed for her to turn and run down the hallway. To cry wolf.
But she had to hear him out.
"I am employed by the Crown." she warned him, teeth clenched.
"I understand. And this will serve the interest of the Crown. Perhaps more so than your previous activities." He paused for effect, pacing along the railed edge of the balcony, his hands now clasped behind his back. "I have watched you and you're quite - perceptive." Lonan said, facing her again and scratching at his bearded face. "I fear with the quiet of the past week that someone will surface to attack the Queen tomorrow, on the day of the coronation ball that she has been looking forward to.
"I have heard that you have a knack for discovering perceived threats. I want you to keep an eye on her majesty. And to alert myself and her guards of any of those perceived threats, before they become actual threats." His words were well-meaning, but his tone was threatening. The tone of a man used to giving commands. It wasn't as if she weren't already paying attention to Briannon anyway. But she could only be so helpful in large events. And if she were being honest, she cared more personally for Rory, and that often colored her judgement.
And how much did he know? Did he suspect her "knack" as he had called it, was more than that? Or did he think that she was just skilled at winnowing out potential assassins.
"I think our heir to the throne is well protected as it is with his guard dogs milling about." Lonan added, as if reading Blayre's mind.
She cleared her throat. "I will keep an eye on the Queen. As is my duty."
Lonan smiled, a flash of teeth against his dark beard. "Good. Make certain you are discreet."
Blayre took that as a dismissal. She walked steadily and deliberately away from him until she rounded a corner and no longer felt the unsettling feeling of Duke Lonan's gaze on her back. Then she ran as if the Hellhound itself was snapping at her ankles.
****
"Did you hear a word I just said?" Ainslee had leaned around and was peering into her Blayre's eyes, a section of her friend's mahogany hair in one hand.
"I'm sorry, I'm just a bit..."
"Preoccupied?" Ainslee finished for her, a slight hint of annoyance in her voice as she retreated behind Blayre's head and continued to work her hair into soft elegant plaits that would keep her hair out of her face for the coronation ball later that day.
The afternoon sun slanted through the window of Alessa's room, catching on the handheld mirror that was set on the small table beside Blayre. Alessa had invited them to get ready for the ball in her more luxurious chambers, affording more space to prepare than the dormitories.
"Yes," Blayre admitted, frowning slightly into the looking glass. "I am preoccupied." By multiple things. She let out a long sigh, blowing at a piece of hair that rested in front of her face, awaiting Ainslee's touch. She would only share one of her preoccupations, she decided. She didn't want to talk about Duke Lonan. Not talking about it made their interaction seem less real.
In the reflection of the larger vanity mirror in front of them, Blayre saw her friend raise one russet brow in interest. She had a hairpin sticking out from one corner of her mouth, and her shoulder length hair was already coiffed and neatly pinned into place with the occasional tendril of curl escaping. Alessa had cocked her head in curiosity, where she sat applying powder to her face.
"Rorrick requested that I reserve a dance for him tonight, and I - I told him no." Blayre scowled, thinking of the previous night. Things had been going so well too. Well, they had been going as well as they could be even when both of them wanted something more.
Ainslee removed the pin from her mouth. "You told the heir to the throne 'no'?" Her voice rose to a high pitched squeak by the time she got to "no". "Blayre," She reprimanded voice returned to its normal octave. "You can't just tell him no. Why all the reservation anyway? Dance with the man!"
"I can tell him no. And I did." Blayre gritted out through clenched teeth. "I didn't want to. But it was the responsible thing to do." She hadn't told Ainslee about that vulnerable evening a couple of weeks prior.
"No," Alessa had abandoned her makeup application and was standing beside Blayre, one hand on her hip. "You are taking that back. You will send him a note right now." The dark haired woman had taken on the persona of a meddling mother figure. Blayre watched as she gathered a fountain pen and a piece of paper off of her pristine desk. The objects were promptly shoved in Blayre's face.
"Write. Tell him that you have had a change of heart and you will most certainly accept his offer of a dance this evening." It was a command.
"But I haven't had a change of heart." Blayre said miserably.
"You're right, it's what you've wanted to do all along." Ainslee cooed, and she and Alessa burst into a fit of giggles.
Blayre hadn't worn this much makeup in ages but it felt good somehow. She felt invincible in the kohl eyeliner and silvery eyeshadow, lips accentuated with a deep berry red. It wasn't something that she could tolerate wearing every day, but she liked it all the same.
She felt surprisingly at home standing outside with Alessa and Ainslee, tapping a sandaled foot on the stone path as they awaited entrance into the formal ball. Her initial perceptions of Alessa were inaccurate - she was not as much of a socialite as Blayre had initially thought after meeting her in The Dragon Room on that evening that felt ages ago.
Her foreign upbringing made Alessa more of an outsider than Blayre had realized, and while the other women at court didn't shun her, neither did she have long-standing relationships with many of them. She seemed more than happy to have Blayre and Ainslee's companionship, for the evening.
The attachable skirt of Blayre's outfit, ruffled in a warm and gentle breeze. A pre-sunset haze had fallen over the garden path where they awaited entrance, turning the well-tended flowers to shadowed versions of themselves. Blayre reached out to the crowd around them. The ball had a smaller selection of people than the coronation had, but it was still difficult to sift out magic and magical imprints. She sensed Conal and Caval somewhere inside, likely laying down protective spells.
Once inside, Blayre twirled around, admiring the opulent decorations, but also assessing every potential threat in the ballroom. She could see guards stationed around the room in both hidden and obvious placements, as well as snipers up in the alcoves above. Tables lined the spacious room, bestrewn with finger foods and drink in crystal goblets. Servants moved around the room carrying silver trays of hors d'oeuvres and flutes of champagne.
"For the toast!" One of the serving men announced, all but shoving the champagne tray in Blayre's face. She was waiting her turn to take one when suddenly a crystal flute appeared beneath her nose, and she looked up to see Caval grinning at her.
"Welcome to the celebration, Blayre. You look absolutely striking this evening."
"Such a flatterer you are." She returned the smile and accepted the champagne. Cav turned to greet Ainslee and Alessa just as Fletcher was approaching them. She saw Ainslee on tiptoe scanning the growing crowd for Seaver, Blayre assumed.
"I try." Caval replied, offering another of the champagnes to Alessa with a quirk of his eyebrows.
"Have you ever been so well-dressed in your life?" Blayre asked Fletcher, who, while very dashing, looked rather stiff and uncomfortable in a tailored dress coat that matched the glass of red wine in his hand.
"You'll need champagne for the toast," Caval informed him.
Fletcher shrugged, "I'll finish this wine in no time." And took a large gulp.
"Let's walk around a bit, I want to see all the decorations." Alessa gripped Blayre's sleeve and began to pull her through the growing crowd of ball-goers.
"I don't see him." Alessa said, tapping a finger to her lip and glancing around the room.
"See whom?"
Alessa gave her an incredulous look, "Your lover-boy of course! I've seen you looking for him."
Blayre felt her face redden, but didn't bother to argue. "Would he even be out here yet?"
"He should be," Alessa turned to sidle between a couple of people and Blayre followed suit. "Only her majesty will be announced since this is in celebration of her coronation."
"Well, even if he's not, I don't need to see him right now anyway." Or at all that evening. Now that a note had been sent to him, accepting his invitation to dance. Twelve hells. Her cheeks were becoming more scarlet by the second.
"Well, I think we should make our way back." Blayre was beginning to say, when a symphony of trumpets began.
"She's coming!" Alessa said, gleefully, her full glass of champagne climbing the side of her glass from her excited movements. The ballroom had gone quiet except for the trumpets and Blayre's eyes focused on the doorway in front of them.
The newly crowned queen floated out in a whisper of silver and gold skirts, while the lights of the chandelier twinkled off of her beaded emerald bodice. Her hair was pulled halfway back and the remaining golden spirals fell down her back.
She looked softer and more feminine in the gown, but no less commanding than she had looked in her coronation outfit. Voices whispered around Blayre, and she picked up the name of Briannon's late mother. It seemed the family resemblance had only grown with time.
And there was Duke Rorrick, standing with hands clasped behind his back, as his cousin strode past flanked by The Twelve. She returned her gaze to the Queen and passed over another duke with a darker gaze that had somehow focused on her in this crowd of people. A chill slithered down her spine and she abruptly turned her head to follow Briannon's regal march to the head table, where she stood behind her chair, waiting for the hum of the crowd to quiet.
"I thank you all for being here to celebrate this momentous occasion," Briannon began, her voice ringing loud and clear.
"An overlaying sadness marks this coronation, with the death of my father, but I do not want that to overshadow this celebration,"
"So let us eat and drink and dance in celebration of both my father's life, and to a new era in Emares. I do not want to keep you from the fun with a long speech," She raised a glass of champagne that fizzed and glittered as much as her dress. "To the prosperity of my reign and my realm. To Emares!"
"Long live the queen!" The crowd chanted, and the clinking of glasses and cheering voices filled the hall. Despite her efforts, Blayre's gaze traveled back to Rory who gave her one of his crooked smirks as he raised his flute again, winking at her.
She blushed and raised her glass as he began to move in her direction, as she looked away her eyes met Duke Lonan's once more. The man was still watching her like a hawk.