Crescent (Book 1)

+ 40 +

Can I do it? Can I not? I still have time to prepare, but after being with Ceth earlier, I'm still shaken. Can I do it? Can I not? It's like plucking petals off of a flower. I've been at it for a month since Ceth put a ring on my finger. A ring I still twist around my finger as I wait.

I have a script, I remind myself. I've memorized a response for every question, for every prodding attempt to get me to divulge information. I've spent a month memorizing my act. There will be no talking back; there will be no defiance. There will be no question as to my love for him. No one will doubt the unity of this court. Ceth made it clear what will happen if I fail: My family hangs in the balance.

Moira appears sometime before dark to help me dress. With downcast eyes, she sits me down at the vanity and begins her quick work. She curls my hair, darkens and lengthens my lashes, and paints my lips a tart red to match the center jewel of the crown that rests on my head. The crown flashes silver in the lantern light, a perfect complement to the dagger sheathed at my hip. The gown itself is sure to stun. It's an intentional choice of white dupioni silk with silver strands at my shoulders. The dress hugs my curves before flowing into a pool at my feet. With the dagger at my hip, I look beautiful, enticing, charming even. Everything I don't feel, yet everything I have to be tonight.

I wait for Ceth in the library overlooking the courtyard. My eyes drift over the horse-drawn carriages as they arrive. Soldiers unload trunks from the long journey while servants take the horses to the stables. From so far above, it's difficult to see anything but glimpses- mere flashes of each of the realm's sigils. I recite the court colors in my head. Then each of the envoys' names and their respective courts- Just like Saren and I've rehearsed for weeks. I will play my part perfectly.

The lanterns come to life as darkness falls, and I fiddle with my ring again. Our guests settle in the study next door, laughing. Between hearing the quartet play and smelling dinner soon to be served, I'm almost too distracted to hear when Ceth appears behind me.

He looks as handsome as ever. Tall and richly dressed, as promised. His usual ensemble has been replaced with a deep rust-colored tunic, hand-embroidered with curling silver designs from the collar down the front. A bandolier of blades crosses his chest, and a thick silver crown, the cousin to my own, is nestled in his golden hair.

He smiles at me. Not a grin, not a smirk. He slips into his façade easily. Taking my hand, he pulls me flush against him, hands gripping my waist. Even with no audience, my chest constricts. Every inch of him presses into me.

"Are you ready?" he asks, whispering so our guests can't hear. He takes my silence for hesitation: "You remember what's at sta-"

"I remember," I bite out, and he takes my hand and kisses the knuckle of my ring finger as we approach the doors to the study.

"Such a good girl," he purrs.

The doors open inwards on a phantom wind. My breathing stalls. Our guests are already waiting: Ten people all dressed in their finest traditional attire. They bow as we enter, and I'm almost grateful for Ceth's hand to keep me upright as we come to a stop at the head of the table. I give a dazzling smile though I already feel lightheaded. The music is too loud, the smell of the food too strong, and the icy feeling of Ceth's skin nearly drives me to the edge.

Ceth speaks first: "I'd like to welcome you all to Vervale. A special welcome to my home, White Stag." Everyone bows again just as they're supposed to. Lord Shawcross turns to me, and I know it's my turn.

"Please," I motion to the table which is already overflowing with steaming gobs of food, and the doors close shut behind us. I direct everyone to take a seat. The air feels too heavy, and I swallow as everyone stares at me. I address a shorter man with a kind countenance that I recognize from my lessons with Saren. "I've never been to Ireodran, Ambassador Medina, but I hear the wine isn't half bad."

That earns a few chuckles, and the tightness eases from my chest. Medina lifts a glass as if to toast. "Not half as delicious as tonight's..." He takes a faint sniff of his glass. "Merlot? Or is it pinot noir?"

I smile. "I can't say I'm not impressed. I believe this merlot was aged..." I offer Ceth an innocent look though I know every damn course of this meal like the back of my hand. "Twenty-seven years?" Medina drinks to that and I grab a glass from my own designated spot next to Ceth. Everyone moves to their seats, and it's only then that I realize my mistake.

My heart shrivels slightly. I miscounted. There are only eight ambassadors present. The two places to my right remain empty. Which means I've-

As if on cue, the doors to the study open again to admit two men. The world stops turning, and my heart lodges in my throat when I feel Ceth stiffen beside me. I move to hide my frown as the taller and darker-haired of the two looks over the group, eyes flickering right over Ceth.

The man's gray eyes land on me, and the corner of his mouth turns up in the tiniest hint of a smile. I don't feel so much as a flicker of recognition as he bows deeply. "Forgive me. I hope we're not too late."

I swallow the lump that's formed in my throat, hoping to cover my mistake. "Of- Of course not," I smile even though setting my glass down without spilling is a task.

Ceth squeezes my hand in silent reprimand. "Only by an hour," he growls, but the darker-haired male only smiles, still holding my eyes before finally acknowledging Ceth. Ceth looks ready to blow, and it takes every last ounce of will to force a smile as I clasp Ceth's arm carefully.

I chuckle, my laugh sweet, leaning into him as I address the new arrivals. "Let's just hope you brought more wine."