Dark Breaks the Dawn

by Sara B. Larson

  Because of her best friend.

  “Go.” Evelayn suddenly gave her a little push. “Find someone to dance with. Enjoy the feast. I want to hear all about it when the night is over.”

  Ceren glanced at Evelayn and thought she caught a brief flash of longing on her friend’s face, but then it was gone. As High Queen of Éadrolan, she wasn’t able to take part in the revelry, not like she used to. Instead, she had to sit upon her throne and watch as everyone else celebrated the peace she’d won for them.

  “Go,” Evelayn repeated. “I think I see someone waiting for you.” And then her gaze cut to the side. Ceren followed it to see Lord Quinlen standing near the base of the stairs, below the dais the throne sat upon. He wasn’t looking at her, but her breath still caught at the sight of his broad shoulders and his pale blond hair.

  “All right. But please give me some sort of signal before you make the announcement. I want to be close by.”

  “I will.”

  “Promise?”

  Evelayn sighed in exasperation. “Yes. Now go. He’s not going to wait all night for you.”

  But still Ceren paused. “You really did it.” She gestured at the Great Hall. “All this is because of you. Don’t forget this is your celebration, too.”

  Evelayn shook her head. “Not just me. Many have fought and died to try and win us this peace. It came at a terrible cost.”

  Ceren knew Evelayn was thinking of her parents and the many, many others who had died. Hundreds of Draíolon on both sides. Maybe even thousands. “But finally their souls can be at peace, knowing that harmony has been restored. And our children will be able to grow without having to know the fear we did.”

  “Praise the Light for that.” Evelayn took a deep breath. “This is a night to remember those we lost, but also to look to the future. And I believe yours is beginning to get impatient.”

  Sure enough, Quinlen was now looking up at them—at Ceren—his eyebrows lifted.

  Propriety be blasted, Ceren thought, and impulsively bent forward to kiss Evelayn on the cheek. Then without giving the High Queen a chance to react, Ceren hurried down the stairs toward Quinlen and the rest of the Draíolon.

  The feast had been in full swing for the better part of an hour when Tanvir finally walked into the Great Hall. Evelayn knew because she’d been watching for him the whole time, growing more nervous with every passing minute that he had changed his mind, that for some reason he had decided it was a mistake. But as soon as he walked in, he looked to the throne and smiled, and her nerves fled at the warmth in his gaze.

  As Tanvir wove his way toward her through the crowd, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. He wore fine linen pants, knee-high soft leather boots, and a silken tunic that came to a V at the tapering of his hips, highlighting his well-muscled chest and arms, his skin turned to burnished honey in all the candlelight. The sash at his waist was the same amber as his eyes, and another matching ribbon tied his long, brown hair back. Many Draíolon’s gazes followed him as he made his way toward the throne, but Tanvir only had eyes for Evelayn, sending a thrill through her body as she tried to remain very still and serene on her throne.

  He deliberately held her gaze as he slowly ascended the stairs and came to kneel before her, taking her right hand and pressing a kiss to her fingers, just below the ring she was wearing in public for the first time. His mouth lingered for a moment longer than was proper, sending a shiver up her arm, straight to her heart.

  “I apologize for my delay, my lady,” he murmured as he stood.

  “I’m sure a few of my subjects had begun to wonder at your absence.” Evelayn arched a brow at him.

  Tanvir’s eyes widened with mock affront. “They couldn’t honestly believe I’d be frightened off at this point. Because of an intimate party with a thousand of our closest friends?”

  Evelayn pursed her lips to keep from smiling.

  “If King Bain and his war couldn’t tear us apart, your subjects needn’t fear that a little thing like announcing our impending Binding like this would frighten me away.”

  Evelayn found herself laughing with him. Tanvir was right. They’d been through so much in the months leading up to this moment—fighting side by side to defeat Bain, mourning the loss of their parents together, battling through court politics together—if he’d ever doubted his devotion to her, he would have left her side long before now.

  “So young to make such a momentous decision.”

  The smile died on Evelayn’s face as she remembered they weren’t alone on the raised dais.

  Tanvir turned slightly to bow toward the other woman, who had been brought out by her guards a short while before and seated behind Evelayn, to her left. “Queen Abarrane. I hope this night finds you well.”

  The queen of Dorjhalon tilted her head slightly. “I can’t say that it does, quite honestly.” Evelayn’s guards flanked her on either side, an unused but visible threat in case she tried to cause trouble, but she still managed to look regal—almost powerful—as she sat ramrod straight, not allowing her spine to touch the back of her chair.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Lying does not suit you, youngling.”

  Tanvir’s shoulders tightened at the insult, but he managed to keep a smile on his face as he bowed again, a perfunctory little bend of the waist, choosing to remain silent rather than respond. He’d come into his full power years ago, though not nearly as long ago as Queen Abarrane, of course. In point of fact, he was very young by Draíolon standards. He and Evelayn both were. But circumstance had forced them to mature quickly.

  Abarrane continued to watch them speculatively. Evelayn hated the gleam in the other queen’s eye and wondered again, for the hundredth time, if she’d made the right choice in sparing Abarrane’s life as a show of mercy and goodwill toward the Dark Draíolon—and as a way to guarantee Lorcan would keep his Blood Vow of peace before allowing him to go free once more. There were plenty who had questioned her mercy.

  She still believed wholeheartedly that Lachalonia needed both Light and Dark power to flourish, and she hadn’t seen any other way to regain that balance. Truthfully, she hoped Lorcan succeeded soon. The unnatural shift in the balance of their world that she’d felt since King Bain’s death had continued to grow stronger with every passing day, week, and month that the Dark Draíolon remained powerless. And though it was the last day of Athrúfar, it wasn’t nearly as chilly outside as it normally should have been by that time of year.

  She had no desire to cause the Dorjhalon Kingdom to be destroyed. She only wished for peace—and balance. Evelayn thought she’d come up with the perfect solution, and Lorcan’s vow had reassured her that she was right. But now, as she returned Abarrane’s stare, she couldn’t quite shake a strange sense of foreboding.

  Queen Abarrane was close to two hundred, but still as beautiful as any Draíolon in attendance. She had been King Bain’s second Binding, after his first died in childbirth, which was why she was nearly a century younger than Bain had been. Her obsidian-black skin was still smooth and her tawny eyes glowed with intelligence—and a faint hint of malice.

  Evelayn turned back to the Great Hall, refusing to be drawn into yet another exhausting and mentally challenging verbal sparring match with the much more experienced queen. Surely, Abarrane knew that Evelayn had only done what had to be done, for the good of both their kingdoms. Lachalonia would have been destroyed if King Bain had been allowed to continue in his quest to rule over the entirety of it. Of course Abarrane was angry that her husband had been killed, but then, Evelayn wasn’t exactly thrilled to have the wife of the man who had murdered her parents sitting on the dais with her, either.

  Tanvir motioned to one of the Light Sentries, who quickly moved toward them.

  “How may we assist you?”

  “Please inform High Priestess Teca that the time has come for the announcement.”

  When the Light Sentry, a middle-aged man with mauve skin and startling yellow eyes, glance
d to Evelayn for confirmation, she nodded, determined to put Queen Abarrane’s presence out of her mind. She couldn’t change her decision now, and the queen was no threat to her, other than her peace of mind. None of the Dark Draíolon were for that matter, since Lorcan had apparently still been unsuccessful in regaining the Dorjhalon power.

  As High Priestess Teca came toward the dais, Evelayn chose to focus on Tanvir and their happiness, not to dwell on the past.

  Ceren was still dancing with Quinlen, but more and more Draíolon were pausing, looking at the dais in curiosity as Teca moved with a regal grace up the stairs to stand beside Evelayn and Tanvir. Evelayn kept waiting for Ceren to glance up so she could give her a nod—the signal that the time for the announcement was here—before standing, but her friend was absorbed in her partner, her curled, flame-red hair a beacon on the dance floor. She and Quinlen made a stunning couple; Evelayn was sure another announcement was not far off.

  But for now, Teca was looking at her expectantly, waiting for the queen to rise so she could signal the musicians to play a fanfare and begin the betrothal ceremony.

  Ceren, look at me, Evelayn thought, willing her friend to notice the expectant hush falling slowly but surely over the gathered Draíolon. Finally, Ceren and Quinlen paused, and her friend glanced up at the throne. Evelayn gave a brief nod, and Ceren grabbed Quinlen’s hand, pulling him through the crowd toward the dais. Once they were standing nearby, watching with matching smiles, Evelayn finally looked to Tanvir.

  Their eyes met, and she could see her own excitement and happiness reflected back in his gaze.

  High Priestess Teca lifted her hands, the flowing white sleeves of her ceremonial robes fluttering up her arms, to signal to the musicians. Within moments, the music cut out and then they played the fanfare that indicated to the crowd to turn to the dais. An immediate quiet fell over the Great Hall, as all the Draíolon faced Evelayn and Tanvir.

  “Such pretty, young fools playing at king and queen,” Queen Abarrane murmured behind them, but Evelayn ignored her, keeping her smile plastered in place despite the sudden cold shiver that snaked down her spine. She couldn’t say why exactly, but she could have sworn there was the hint of a threat in the other queen’s words.

  Then Tanvir reached for her hand, and from the moment she placed hers in his, there was nothing but the reassuring strength of his grip, and the warmth of his body beside hers as she stood up from the throne, keeping her shoulders back and her chin lifted as they faced the glittering mass of Draíolon side by side. They’d faced far worse together than the bitter, grieving queen, and prevailed. This was their moment of triumph—finally. And no one was going to ruin it.

  High Priestess Teca lifted her hands again, but this time as she did, the light of the candles above them expanded, growing brighter and brighter, until the room was glowing as if the very sun itself had been harnessed in the ceiling of the Great Hall and was shining down on them all. Evelayn felt a slight increase in warmth as power was drawn through her stone and out to her people—to Teca. And then there was a huge burst of sparks, raining glittering drops of light down on the crowd, who gasped and then oohed and ahhed together at the display.

  “Draíolon of Lachalonia—both Light and Dark—today is a day of celebration!” Teca’s voice rose and fell in a musical cadence that had the entire hall, even the younglings, hanging on her every word. “At long last, our great and sacred lands have once again found peace!”

  A cheer went up from the crowd, and Teca paused until they quieted down once more.

  “But peace is not the only reason for celebration this night,” she finally continued, and all eyes suddenly fixed on Evelayn and Tanvir. “It is my great pleasure to announce the official betrothal of Evelayn, High Queen of Éadrolan, to Tanvir, High Lord of the House of Delsacht, hereafter to Bind their hearts and souls for this life and the life beyond on the first day of spring in the new year!”

  Another, louder cheer rose from the crowd as Tanvir lifted their joined hands up in the air for all to see. Evelayn grinned at her people as four other priestesses walked up the stairs, two carrying the sacred ropes that they would use to entwine their wrists, and two carrying goblets of wine to complete the ceremony.

  As the four priestesses stopped beside them, Teca came over and took the ropes, made of gold and silver spun into thread and then braided into an intricate design.

  “With these ropes, Queen Evelayn and her chosen king-to-be will pledge their oath to one another for all to see.” Teca handed one rope to Evelayn and one to Tanvir.

  He let go of her hand as they turned to face each other while everyone watched.

  “Please present your left arm, Queen Evelayn,” Teca instructed.

  Evelayn lifted her left arm in the air, her hand palm-down and her fingers pointing toward Tanvir.

  “Please present your right arm, Tanvir, High Lord of the Delsachts.”

  Tanvir mirrored Evelayn’s movement, except his hand was turned up, his eyes on hers, making her stomach dance with the promises in his burning gaze.

  Teca continued, “Queen Evelayn and Tanvir of the Delsachts, you may now place the ropes and make your oaths.”

  As queen, Evelayn went first, wrapping her rope around their arms, binding them together, symbolizing the official Binding that would take place in the spring.

  “I, Evelayn, High Queen of Éadrolan, make an oath of intent, to Bind my heart, my life, and my soul to Tanvir, High Lord of the House of Delsacht. He shall be as my left arm, a part of me hereafter and forever more. Flesh of my flesh and heart of my heart.” As Evelayn spoke, she couldn’t quite keep her voice steady—thinking of all that had happened to finally bring them to this point. Tanvir’s fingers brushed against the underside of her arm as he began to twine his rope around their joined arms, interlacing it with hers.

  “I, Tanvir, High Lord of the House of Delsacht, make an oath of intent, to Bind my heart, my life, and my soul to Evelayn, High Queen of Éadrolan. She shall be as my right arm, a part of me for so long as we exist. And I shall be at her side, to support her, and love her, hereafter and forevermore.” He turned his hand to gently grasp her arm, and she smiled up at him.

  An unfamiliar heat spread from the ropes, encircling their arms and then shooting up into Evelayn’s body, for a brief moment reminding her of the Blood Vow with Lorcan. She blinked as her conduit stone burned hot against her chest. But then it gradually faded to a pulsing warmth once more, and she banished the memory of Lorcan kissing her hand before leaving, and the sense that though he’d made his vow he was still planning … something. She didn’t want anything to ruin this night.

  “As you have sworn, so shall it be,” Teca intoned, taking the goblets—one in each hand—and lifting them up. “Drink and seal your oaths.”

  Evelayn smiled brightly at Tanvir as Teca handed them each a goblet in their free hands, which they lifted to the other’s mouth to drink, symbolizing their reliance upon one another for the rest of their lives and beyond into the afterlife. The wine was stronger than she’d anticipated, burning down Evelayn’s throat, then spreading to coat her belly in delicious heat.

  “The Oath of Binding is now complete. May the Light bless your forthcoming union!”

  The crowd echoed High Priestess Teca’s benediction, and then broke into cries of “Praise the Light!” and other cheers. Evelayn stared up into Tanvir’s face and couldn’t quite bring herself to believe that it was possible to be as happy as she was in that moment.

  Someone—who sounded quite a bit like Ceren—suddenly called out, “Kiss! Kiss!” and the cry was immediately taken up and repeated, until it became a chant, echoing through the Great Hall. Tanvir lifted one eyebrow at her, his eyes lit with an unholy twinkle of mischief that made Evelayn’s legs feel strangely unsteady.

  “We shouldn’t disappoint them, my lady. The Draíolon want a kiss.”

  Evelayn stared up into his face—the face she loved so very much—and grinned. “Then a kiss we will give them. A
queen must always keep her subjects happy, above all else.”

  Tanvir needed no other incentive. He stepped forward, trapping their bound arms between their bodies, and plunged his free hand into her hair, tilting her head up to his. When their lips met, the crowd burst into cheers yet again. Tanvir pressed even closer, his lips moving slightly across hers—a promise of what was to come—and then they reluctantly broke apart.

  Evelayn wasn’t prone to blushing, but she could feel a brush of heat in her cheeks as Teca stepped forward to undo the ropes, to return them to the Dawn Temple where their most sacred items were kept by the priestesses of Éadrolan.

  Once their arms were free, Evelayn stepped forward to address all those gathered.

  “Draíolon of Lachalonia, I thank you for joining with me in celebration of our happy news. But even more importantly, in marking this bright new dawn of an age of peace—where Light and Dark will coexist in harmony, side by side. We will work together as was intended in the beginning to—”

  Evelayn’s conduit stone suddenly flashed ice-cold in her chest, stealing her breath and her words. At the same moment, Queen Abarrane gasped behind her, a sound of surprised pleasure. Many Dark Draíolon around the Great Hall also reacted, jerking or gasping or otherwise indicating that they, too, felt the change.

  Her stone returned to its normal warmth, and with it came the sense that the imbalance she’d noticed ever since King Bain’s death had finally been righted. This was as it should be—Light and Dark needed each other. Their kingdoms were meant to exist together, to bring complete harmony to their world.