Crescent (Book 1)

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The new arrivals bow their heads, unaware of the raging High lord beside me. Ceth quietly cools, forcing a saccharin smile I know hides fury.

"She is right," a woman speaks up from the end of the table. Audelia. She, along with Medina, are both ambassadors to Lord Carter and Lady Rhiannon. Being the only other woman at the table, I recognize her immediately though her pictures don't do her justice. Her features are soft with a practiced kindness, but there's something awfully mischievous about the look in her eye. "I do believe being late warrants more wine, Ambassador Astley," she teases, and thankfully, the tension eases as one of the newcomers smiles.

Thayer Astley, I do know. Ambassador to Lord Brennan. His black tunic, with lilac purple threaded into the sleeves, is split down the middle to reveal his chest. Beneath it, dark tattoos in a language I've never seen before are scrawled across his bronze skin. His ears are covered with dozens of black rings that altogether would make him look unapproachable if it weren't for his smile.

But his companion, Flemming Smith.... He doesn't look the slightest bit familiar, and that alone makes my stomach sink. His gray eyes are vivid, and his dark hair falls in a mess across his forehead. His black tunic, lilac falcon stitched at the heart, is equally as rich. "We'll be sure to include more wine in negotiations," he amends, the smile disappearing and a frown taking its place.

I beckon them both forward. "Come and join us. We wouldn't want the food to get cold." Not that it will matter anyways. The food will be steaming if Janice has any say in the matter.

Astley and the darker-haired ambassador cross the room. Astley takes the empty chair furthest from me, leaving the only other available seat beside me. The remainder of the food appears by the heapful in the middle of the table. The smell gathers beneath my nose, and I inhale, willing my breath to even out. Ceth kisses my hand again, making sure my ring flashes in the firelight before overlooking the group and setting our entangled hands in my lap.

Music is still playing, and everyone settles into light chatter as servants appear to pile our plates. I eat only a third of what I normally do. All part of the script. I can eat later if I wish- just as long as no one sees.

"Lord Shawcross," Audelia speaks again and Ceth looks for her to continue. "I heard of the new Lady of White Stag, but I had no idea you're to be married already."

Her comment isn't jealousy as much as curiosity, but all the same, I look at Ceth, smiling and blushing for him as he brushes a finger down my chin. I'm all too aware of the eyes of the man sitting next to me... likely spying the lies rolling off of me. Imposter.

"She's quite the catch, this one."

"When is the wedding?" she asks, and Ceth and I both look endearingly at each other. He gives me a look that tells me I have permission to answer.

"I was thinking about next spring?" I glance at her, reciting my practiced answer. "I don't want to interfere with Spring Sollemne though."

Her golden hoops brush her shoulders as she nods. I've sold her at least. Those same two eyes bleed into me, and I finally turn to meet the dark-haired male to my right. His eyes are the darkest gray, near black, and when our eyes meet, my heart squeezes in near recognition...But, I know I've never met him before.

"Do you not enjoy the spring solstice, Ambassador...?"

"Brenna," Ceth scolds, mid-bite, his hand like a hidden vice against my thigh.

"Caldwell. Gabriel Caldwell," the man waves a dismissive hand. "Truly, it's no offense. In fact, I'm having trouble remembering your name." He looks directly at me, gray eyes molten. I'm not the only one to forget something.

"Brenna," I swallow. "James."

"Shawcross, soon-to-be," another ambassador adds and everyone chuckles while I down a sip of wine and smile again. I can't wait until this is over.

Gabriel leans close enough to whisper, his breath stirring the hair at my temple. "I do enjoy the solstice. It's the weddings that are tiresome." Something about the way he says it, or the way his eyes cut into mine, has me wondering if maybe he already sees me for the fraud I am. There will be no wedding.

I meet Ceth's gaze instead, smiling and tapping my foot to the music as the chatter continues. I float through dinner happily, nursing a few glasses of wine and enjoying that Ceth isn't the same prick he usually is. He's charming- kind even. I get a glimpse of the man Moira once cared for. After I dismiss myself for the night and the ambassadors retire for ale and conversation, some foolish part of me wishes that it's not an act. Maybe an audience does change him. I laugh at the thought of it as I settle in bed that night. My performance wasn't perfect. I dread the moment Ceth comes to bed to remind me.