He is exactly where he was born to be, Sloane reflected as she watched him capture the attention of the crowd and thank them for their presence and support.
He proved a rare statesman, as he didn’t waste the opportunity of so many influential people’s constrained attention, and spoke to some of the more pressing concerns briefly. The encroachment of the Wildmen from the Savage Lands and the increased hostility from the elves both made appearances in the speech, but before the people could start to become uncomfortable, he spoke of the hope this union provided not only to the people of Basinia, but all humans in the future.
I wonder what Erik would make of that, Sloane thought as she listened to Alexander’s masterful balancing act. The fate of the elven scout and his burly companion were never far from her mind, since Sacha’s absence was always at the forefront of her thoughts.
As Alexander was bringing his speech to a close, thanking the soldiers of Pelos, and Bale in particular, for their role in her safe delivery to the Citadel, Sloane’s eye was drawn to a group of men dressed in fiery red. They were issuing in from one of the doors across the ballroom.
Eos, preserve me! Sloane thought, and stood in disbelief. Galen!
The men around her table scrambled to get to their feet as their manners demanded whenever a lady made her leave.
Sloane kicked off her shoes and, gathering the fabric of her train over one arm, she glanced at her table companions and said, “Forgive me.” Before they could so much as utter a word, she was gone, bounding down the stairs two at a time. Servants bearing trays leapt from her path as she picked up speed and headed for the artful bridge that provided access to the dance floor. Servants and guests had clogged the path, so she veered to one side and simply hurdled over the shallow waterway, eliciting gasps from those nearby.
Bare feet and thighs flashing, she charged across the center of the dance floor. The music that had accompanied Alexander’s speech faltered as the musicians stared agape at her headlong rush. Leaping again, she crossed the second channel and shouted at those unaware to clear a path.
If the guests were surprised, her brother was not. Head and shoulders above the tallest of the red-clad men around him, Galen bellowed, “Sister!” and spread his arms wide.
With another great leap, Sloane launched herself toward her brother and threw her arms around him.
He staggered only slightly from the impact and laughed heartily. “Eos save me, Sister, but it is good to see you,” said the Pelosian prince as he clutched her with both arms.
“You came!” She buried her face into his shoulder. Sloane hadn’t realized how much she had missed her brother. Sacha’s abduction and the wedding had dominated her thoughts as of late, but upon seeing his solid presence, her heart filled to bursting.
She wrinkled her nose. “You smell of wet horse.” Laughing, she released her towering brother and slid her feet to the floor. She kept both hands on his chest and peered up at his travel-stained face. “The least you could have done was bathe before coming to wish me well.”
Galen threw his head back and laughed. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have been in such a damned hurry to become queen of everything!” He smiled down at her again. “You clean up nicely, I must say. Can’t hike up your skirts like you did, though. It wouldn’t do for all the nobility to see those scarred, knobby knees.” His deep voice boomed above the crowd.
Sloane answered her brother with a punch to his ribs, drawing another deep chuckle from him as she shook her hand to clear the tingling in her wrist.
Galen gestured to the crowd behind her. “I think it’s time to make an introduction or two.” She turned and regarded the sea of guests and servants that had been watching their interplay. Sloane felt briefly ashamed of her headlong rush but eagerly embraced the opportunity to introduce Galen to Alexander. Taking a deep breath and settling herself into a more reserved state, she took her brother’s hand and led him to the prince.
“It would appear we have a late but most welcome arrival!” Alexander announced as he clapped in approval. Small patches of the crowd followed their prince’s lead, until the entire ballroom erupted into one united roar of applause. Once Sloane reached her husband, he addressed the hall once more, raising his hands. “Let us feast!” Yells of appreciation and admiration came from the crowd, the musicians filled the hall with vigor, and the milling guests began to make their way back to their seats.
Sloane took her new husband’s hand and pulled her brother closer. “My husband; I present to you my brother, Prince Galen Moridin, heir to the throne of Pelos.” She then turned to her brother. “Galen, may I present Prince Alexander Ventus, my husband and heir to the throne of Basinia.”
Alexander looked with fondness at her before raising his hand to grip Galen’s in welcome. “It is an honor to receive you, Prince Galen,” he said, shaking hands firmly, although his hand was completely engulfed in Galen’s grip. “I received your message last night and hoped you would be able to attend the celebrations.”
Sloane frowned. “What do you mean ‘his message’?”
Alexander traded a conspiratorial smile with her brother. “A surprise, my dear. For you.”
Her mouth opened but nothing came out.
Galen chuckled deeply. “Don’t judge him too harshly, my sister. I harbor blame as well.” He looked back at Alexander. “I am honored to be received, Prince Alexander. I’m only sorry I couldn’t arrive sooner.”
“I suppose I can forgive you both.” Sloane squeezed their hands. “Now, shall we eat?” She pulled them toward their seats at the high table.
More introductions were made as they took their places. A chair was added for her brother, who managed to wedge himself between her and Lord Graves. Bale gave salute to his prince and sat.
The only person at their table Sloane had not met before this evening was Myka Harristone, wife of the missing magistrate. Sloane was somewhat surprised to see her at the celebration, since her husband’s role as either victim or perpetrator in Sacha’s kidnapping was still in question. No evidence had been found to support either case, nor had any evidence been found that helped shed light on why the abductors had taken the captives and what they hoped to gain.
Sloane tried not to Brier’s questioned honor or the abduction too long. Although it felt selfish, she wanted to be happy at this moment with her brother and new family. Galen would have to be told of Sacha’s abduction soon enough, but not now. Eos, not now.
“Again, I am honored to be received by such august company.” Galen had drawn himself into a more formal pose and inclined his head in recognition of each person as they were introduced.
He’s changed in the time he’s been fighting on the borders, Sloane thought as she watched him, reflecting on the year or more since she had spent time with Galen. She had last seen him leading soldiers to defend the southern borders of Pelos. An easy laugh was still present on Galen’s face, but there was steel in his eyes that reflected more of their father than when they had parted. A new light pink scar curled over his jawline. Sloane was no healer, but she thought the wound looked fairly fresh. Still eager to enter the fray, then, she thought, remembering his headstrong desire to always be the first in any fight, flinging himself into the thickest knot of brawlers as early as thirteen.
“I hope you will forgive the mud on my boots, but I didn’t wish to stop to clean up for fear I would miss the event entirely,” Galen continued, gesturing at his worn and dirty clothes, easily slipping back into his more genial personality.
Alexander laughed heartily and gestured at one of the servants who was watching from the fringe of the busy table. “Mitchell.”
The dignified-looking man came forward and bowed. “Yes, My Prince.”
“Bring a basin of water so that our honored guest might refresh himself.”
If the plans made for this celebration had been disrupted by Galen’s arrival, it did not show. A torrent of green-clad servants issued forth from the hallways, and the food was distribu
ted to the waiting guests in a seamless rush.
“How fair the events to the South, Prince Galen?” The young General Farin Tyler asked after taking a sip of wine.
Galen looked up as he washed his hands in the bowl of water that had been set beside him. “They could be better. I hope you have surmised why the Wildmen move north?”
Several at the table exchanged knowing looks. There had been discussion of little else. “The hordes from Skelris are marching toward our kingdoms,” stated General Tyler.
Galen nodded. “A safe assumption. I would speak in detail about how we might aid each other in this dire situation.” A certain tension released from the general’s face and looks of relief went around the table.
Sloane smiled. Her brother was not one to dally when a call to action was needed. “Plans have been discussed, my brother. We wait only for your insight and assent to proceed in a joined defense.” She acknowledged the table with a nod.
Galen grunted with appreciation as he wiped the miles of travel from his face.
“Do you speak on behalf of King Hathorn?” Lord Graves asked, his gaunt features rigid and his eyes piercing.
Her brother snorted. “In some ways, yes.” Galen tossed the grimy towel to the table next to the bowel and began again with another. “But I must meet with him and gain his approval once a plan of action is decided upon.”
“Excellent,” said Alexander, continuing pointedly. “We can speak of details after the festivities. For now, enjoy yourselves.” Her husband eyed the minister of trade, who was beginning to open his mouth. The stiff man grimaced slightly and resumed picking at his plate.
Alexander’s expression was subtle but authoritative. Sloane was thankful for the opportunity to learn that look without it being directed at her, and she filed away knowledge for the future.
The reception was more than Sloane could have hoped for; the food and drink were as amazing as the entertainment. Jugglers, dancers, poets, and comedians kept the banquet room lively with conversation and laughter.
A hand lightly touched her shoulder, bringing her out of a conversation with the retired general, Laran Perisal, who was a surprisingly spry old man.
“May I have the first dance, my wife?” asked Alexander. She accepted his hand with a smile and accompanied him to the floor, excusing herself from Laran’s company.
“I can tell life with you will be full of surprises,” Alexander murmured to her as they stepped across the footbridge she had earlier ignored and onto the central floor.
Sloane blushed lightly. “I can only hope most of those surprises will be welcome ones.”
The music that had been playing as they made their way to the center ceased abruptly when they stopped and Alexander turned to face her. All conversation in the room followed the cessation of the music, the hum fading to silence as Alexander regarded her.
“Regardless of our station, or the reasons behind our marriage,” he said into the expectant hush, his words pitched low and just for her. “I want you to know, and truly understand, what a treasure you are to me.” He leaned forward to kiss her, and she eagerly leaned in to meet him.
Banlor watched from his seat at the high table and sipped his wine placidly, although his thoughts were a maelstrom. The prince and his new barbarian bride moved across the dance floor, making a complete spectacle of themselves. Their doting foolishness grated on his nerves like hot iron. It wasn’t the calf-eyes they cast at each other, but the effect they had on the gathered crowd that bothered him so. The people loved it. The mindless fools. Within the span of a few weeks, the pair had undone years of his work. Carefully cultivated animosity and suspicion shattered to pieces like broken glass.
If only Kesh had done his job and the snip of a girl had not come to the Citadel, Banlor would not be forced to watch his plans unravel kiss by bloody kiss. Kesh’s failure and continued absence scathed him still. His anger continuing to smolder despite the intervening time. The chancellor would have some explaining to do, if the fool still lived.
He chided himself for his self-pity. Have I become a weak-hearted woman, then? he thought. This was not the time for sobbing over lost sheep and plans gone awry, but the time to create new opportunities. What he needed now was a gambit to help him forge the key that would grant access to the barbarian capital of Pelos. The raw material was here, it only needed to be put to the fire and shaped.
Banlor looked around the table. Only he, Myka Harristone, and Captain Bale Tigon remained. The rest of the dining party had joined the dance or engaged themselves with other, more desirable company.
His gaze stopped at Bale, who sat in unmoving silence, scanning the banquet hall with his hard eyes. Banlor lifted his wine glass and inclined the rim toward the soldier, drawing his eye. “Are you enjoying the festivities, Captain?”
The Pelosian turned to regard Banlor for a moment before returning to his study of the dancers below. “Well enough.”
“Perhaps a dance would be more entertaining.” Banlor motioned toward the celebrants below, who were engaged in a complicated partner-changing dance, then to Myka. “Lady Harristone is most light on her feet.”
The older woman’s eyes grew wide. “You are too kind, Minister.”
Hardly, Banlor thought. “I only speak the truth,” he replied, bowing his head slightly.
“I do not dance,” said Bale, regarding the flushing woman briefly.
Banlor raised his brow, reflecting mild amazement. “Surprising. Some of the best dancers are fighting men. They possess a strong sense of balance and agility, from what I’ve witnessed.”
Bale frowned.
Banlor leaned back in his chair and brought his cup back to his lips, moistening them. “It would be an excellent opportunity to show the people of Basinia that Pelosians are not so unlike themselves.” He gestured to the jovial room around them. “If anything, a dance with Princess Sloane.” He watched the captain’s eyes, never far from the princess, snap back to his erstwhile charge. Those hard eyes softened when they beheld the young woman, who laughed and twirled about. “It would do her good to have your support,” Banlor finished.
Bale snapped up his wine cup. “She already has it.” He took a deep draft, which finished off its contents. He turned his head from side to side but said nothing more.
Banlor stood with his drink and looked down at the captain. “Well, it was just a thought.” Turning, he bowed to Lady Harristone and gestured vaguely to the throng below with his cup. “I see one of my agents whom I must speak with regarding matters of state. Please forgive me for abandoning you both.”
Myka nodded her assent to his departure and he quickly lost himself in the milling crowd. Finding an unobtrusive place to linger, Banlor watched the high table and waited.
Galen wolfed down another butter-coated biscuit and licked his fingers as he made his way around the crowded room. These Basinians know how to throw a party, he thought. Sweat still beaded on his forehead from exertion; the dance had been most entertaining, and the women even more so.
Diversions aside, he was becoming concerned. The journey to get here in time to participate in these events had been rigorous and costly. He had lost a dozen men crossing the open reaches between Haden’s rock and Waterfall Citadel. Encounters with the Wildmen were an epidemic in both countries, it would seem. Hardships to worry on, for certain, but not the heart of what currently nagged at him. He had dragged Renee along through the turmoil in hopes of surprising his youngest sister, but he had yet to set eyes on the girl. Every time he had tried to inquire after her, there had been an interruption.
Sacha was not at the reception, he was fairly certain of that. He had searched high and low but had found no sign. Since the first dance he had been pressed into, he had begun seeking her in earnest. He had even asked a few passersby if they had seen her, to no avail. It was time to inquire closer to home to find the answer he sought. His cousins would know Sacha’s whereabouts; they pried into everyone’s affairs.
Scanning
the sea of people, Galen proceeded forward with purpose. The four girls had been placed at a table near the head, and he had only been given the opportunity to kiss each on the cheek briefly before ascending to his hastily prepared spot. The group had been immediately consumed by a crowd of eager young men, and they were now specks bobbing in the turbulent, dancing crowd.
Something bumped into him. The people standing nearby gasped, and the sound of breaking crystal followed almost instantly. He stopped and looked down to see the minister of trade sprawled on the floor before him. The man looked up, dazed. “Forgive me, Prince Galen.”
“Nonsense, Lord Graves, I am to blame.” Galen reached down and hauled the toothpick of a man off the floor. “I should have been watching where I was going.” He left his hand on Banlor’s shoulder to steady him. “Are you all right?”
Banlor rubbed the base of his skull and nodded slightly. “Just a bump to the head. I appear to be fine. Thank you.” Seeing that no harm had been done, the onlookers resumed their conversations.
“Ah, good.” Galen patted the thin man lightly, so as not to bruise him further. “I’ll be on, then.”
“Prince Galen? Might I ask what you are looking for so intently?” Banlor inquired. “Perhaps I can help—and prevent others from being trampled.”
Galen arched a brow at the man’s audacity, then barked out a laugh. “Perhaps you can, Minister. I’m looking for my cousins. They all disappeared after the feast started. I barely even had a chance to see them when I arrived, much less exchange words.”
The little man frowned. “Unfortunately, I have not seen them, but I’m sure they will be easy to find, as all women of beauty are.”
Galen grunted and resumed his scanning of the ballroom.
“Lovely as they are, they pale before your sister. The princess has been such a delight since her arrival. No other could possibly match her beauty or charisma,” Banlor continued.
Dark Fate: The Gathering (The Dark Fate Chronicles Book 1) Page 37
