Everyone else breaks off into small groups or turns to watch the dancers, so I use the opportunity to look around. Taelir and Saril are talking quietly to Naril, asking him about a recent scouting mission. Vaeril stays silent at my side as he looks out at the dancers, but every now and then, I can feel his gaze on my face.
Most of the female elves are wearing flowing wrap style dresses that I’d been dressed in when I first arrived, however these are much grander. They remind me of the sari type clothing I had seen back at Arhaven. A group of dignitaries from the far east had come on a diplomatic mission, and while I had still been a slave, I had snuck glances of them while I was cleaning the castle. They hadn’t stayed long, but I had admired the colourful fabrics and patterns—some of the only colour in that dark castle.
The male elves all seem to be wearing the same tailored doublet style jacket, with embroidery ranging from simple repeating patterns to actual pictures. One elf dances by me with a whole phoenix stitched onto the back of his jacket. They all move with a grace and speed that amazes me, as none of them hide the true nature of who or what they are. I hadn’t noticed before, but surrounded by his people, I realise that Vaeril’s been deliberately slowing himself down when he’s around me.
Finally, I can’t hold myself back anymore, and I look over to the marble throne where, sure enough, the queen is sitting, watching her subjects with rapt interest, and by her side is an uncomfortable Tor. He’s wearing his usual leather clothing with a large, wolf pelt draped over his shoulders. Standing by her side, he tries to make conversation, but she only seems to be half listening and nodding her head in agreement as she looks out across the ballroom. There’s an empty chair on her other side, and I wonder whom it belongs to. My mind thinks back to when I first arrived at the palace and saw an elf who must have been a relation of some type. I’ve not seen him since I arrived, which is strange if he is related to the queen. Perhaps I’ll see him this evening, although remembering his smile makes me shudder.
As if she can feel me looking, the queen’s eyes flick to mine. They run over my outfit before she smirks and looks away, dismissing me with the smallest jerk of her chin before she turns her attention to Vaeril. Her dress is the opposite of mine. Where mine is soft and feminine, hers is tight and fitted, designed to show off her best features. The bright scarlet fabric catches the eye, and her beautiful hair falls in silver silken waves around her face while her golden crown perches proudly upon her head.
The dancing continues, and a couple of elves come up to speak to Naril or Vaeril, congratulating him on his return. I can feel the curious eyes of many, but thankfully, my companions seem to put most off from coming over to speak to me, and the few who do are buffered by my friends.
“I thought this was supposed to be a celebration of your return,” I finally say after an hour or so has passed. “Isn’t there going to be a speech or anything?”
“No,” Vaeril answers with a soft shake of his head. “This is just an opportunity for her to show off her new toy.” His eyes narrow as he gestures towards Tor, who has not so subtly been looking at me all night.
“Not to mention she knows how much it annoys you that the mountain man has to spend so much time with her,” Naril chimes in, and I know he’s right. I’ve seen the queen notice when Tor looks at me, taking in his expression as he’s forced to stay at her side.
“While I don’t disagree with your observations, I would encourage you to remember where we are,” Taelir comments in his rich baritone timbre. “The walls have ears.”
“You’re right, Taelir. That was thoughtless of us.” Vaeril sighs, rubbing a hand across his face before turning to me. “What do you think?”
“About what?” I question, taken by surprise. I’d been thinking how handsome he looked tonight and how I like when his hair falls across his face, ruining the perfect façade. I know it’s stupid, but he always seems so intact and unruffled, his