She found herself grinning, delighted by his astonished admiration. “I can. Unlike some people, I have been practicing my skills.”
Rhy clapped a hand over his heart, gasping as if mortally wounded. “So unkind, fair Salena.”
She shook her head at his histrionics and untangled herself from his hands once again. “I will see you later, after my work is done.”
“Can I come with you?” he asked, striding beside her as she wended her way through the crowd.
Giving him a sidelong look, she raised a brow. “It will be cold up there, summer boy.”
“But I have a weather witch to keep me warm,” he replied, making her laugh. “Also a cloak, if we can stop to grab it.”
“All right, then.” Her smile so wide it threatened to crack her cheeks. She treasured the headiness of his company. And maybe the opportunity to show off for him a little. “Come see this.”
~ 9 ~
While a footman retrieved their cold-weather gear, Rhy seized the opportunity to snag a carafe of Jak’s mjed and a couple of glasses. You were so romantic you made my head spin, Salena had said, reminding him of how it had been back then, when making her smile was everything. “In case you’re not quite enough to keep me warm,” he teased when she raised a questioning brow.
The footman led them up the grand stairs to the next level, then through various corridors lit with more white candles in silver candelabras and decorated with more crystal-studded moonflower garlands. The decorations highlighted various paths to the battlements for the guests, but the footman soon diverged, taking them up a more practically lit back staircase.
“This is where Her Majesty has designated for the showing, Your Highnesses,” the young man said with a bow, opening a door to an icy blast of wind and a group of guards huddled around a brazier. “It’s the most-sheltered spot.”
“I’d hate to experience the less-sheltered spots,” Rhy complained, pulling his black fur cloak tighter around himself.
“You don’t have to stay,” Salena replied with a droll look. “I’m sure you can think up more regrets to offer the fires.”
“You have no idea,” he muttered. “But I’m not missing this.”
“Welcome to the Castle Ordnung battlements, Princess Salena Nakoa KauPo.” Prince Harlan, the high queen’s husband, strode up to them in full dress regalia and saluted.
With a squeal, Salena launched herself at the big Dasnarian, giving him a hug.
“Nephew Rhyian, it’s a pleasure, as always.”
Rhy clasped forearms with his uncle, who he’d always liked. Harlan was one of the few who never nagged him about making something of himself. Also a former imperial prince who’d renounced his hated title, Harlan never forgot that Rhy hated being called “prince” himself. “I wondered where you were, Uncle Harlan.”
“I’ve been up here most of the evening,” Harlan replied. “Essla can handle the crowd inside, and I feel better keeping an eye on the battlements with so many personages gathered here tonight.”
“Surely you don’t expect trouble?” Rhy asked.
“It never pays to be complacent, Rhy. We’ve had peace, yes, but there’s always trouble brewing in the world. That’s the nature of trouble, and of the world we live in. There will be time enough after midnight, with everyone safely tucked back inside, to dance with my lovely wife.” He winked at them. “What do you need from us, Lena?”
“I simply need to see the sky.”
“Of course, though it’s bitter cold out there with this storm.”
“Not for long,” she promised.
He grinned. “I’m looking forward to seeing this. I’ll accompany you, for your safety. Unless you need to be alone?”
“Not at all,” Lena assured him, to his obvious relief.
Harlan led the way, and Rhy followed them out of the guard hut into the truly bitter blizzard.
“This will work,” Salena said, pausing in a semi-sheltered corner where a square tower cut the wind somewhat. Down below, the township of Ordnung blazed with light, distant music wafting in occasional bursts with the blustery wind. The sky roiled overhead, the overcast thicker than ever.
Harlan paced a short distance away and turned his back on them, gaze focused outward. Salena raised her hands, palms upward, her magic gathering palpably around them as she sent it toward the sky. She’d never looked more beautiful to Rhy than in that moment. With her hands raised to the black and storming sky, the bitter wind whipping her hair like a banner of gleaming bronze, she tipped her head back, magic lighting her from within.