Wicked Graces

Chapter Nine

Their escort back to the castle for the banquet and festivities seemed to take an eternity. The entire city of Starkhaven lined the streets for the procession, children throwing flower petals and confetti and colorful bows made of ribboned paper into the white cobbled streets as the royal couple passed. Sebastian reveled in the sweet smell of blossoms crushed under foot, and the beaming smiles of nearly every face in the crowd.

The road that led him back to his kingdom was long, and the trail of enemies left in his wake bloody, but he'd never lost sight of his due. Hawke made sure of that. He held her hand, glancing over at her every time she reached out to catch flower petals in her hand and toss them back to eager children hoping to catch the eye of their fair princess.

And she was fair. More than fair. Never in his life had he seen a woman more beautiful, more graceful, more deserving of a crown than Marian Hawke. "You were amazing today," he leaned into her and kissed her cheek, his voice raised above the cheers so she could hear him. "You're amazing every day."

"Stop, or you'll make me cry again," she warned, her hand waving furiously in front of her face to stem tears before they could fall.

He didn't have a chance to ask her if she was all right because they arrived at the castle and were ushered separate ways to change for the festivities, but the smile she cast over her shoulder seemed to suggest she was more than all right: She was perfect. Sebastian grinned to himself and didn't stop grinning while changing into a more casual outfit for the banquet.

Emerging from his rooms to wait for Hawke so they could enter the ballroom together, he paced outside the doors of her apartment for ten minutes before finally heading for the door and charging in without even knocking. She was only half-dressed, the elven attendant helping her with the row of buttons trailing the back of her gown letting loose an exasperated sigh as she called out, "I don't know what part of 'this takes time' you don't understand, your ladyship, but... Oh, Your Highness." She squeaked, both hands dropping away from the buttons as she lowered herself into a complicit bow of respect. "I beg your pardon, Your Highness. I thought you were Lady Elisen come to hurry me along again."

"Only me," he grinned. "Would you excuse us a moment, please?"

"Of course, Your Highness," she curtsied again, dipping her head low in humility.

"I can tend to the lady's buttons, if that's all right."

"Highness?" she looked to Hawke for approval.

"He's quite adept with buttons," she grinned back at the elven maid who was already blushing when she added, "though his talents seem to be more suited to undoing them. We'll have to see how he fairs with buttoning them all into place."

"Rein it in, love," he laughed. "Not everyone needs to know our private affairs."

"You think I haven't already told her what a stallion you are? Half the castle knows you can hardly keep your hands off me."

"Hawke, please."

"You're no fun sometimes, you know that, right?"

Not sure what else to say, he told the elf, "Please, take some time to enjoy the festivities in the ballroom before you turn in for bed, make sure all the servants partake. This is their celebration, too."

"Oh, we couldn't, Your Highness. It wouldn't be proper, but I thank you nonetheless."

"You can, Methalia," Hawke called after her, "and you will. When I come down to that party, I expect to see you and Freda both having a drink."

"My Lady," she began to protest.

"I expect it, Methalia. One drink. You deserve to celebrate as much as any of us, if not more. Without you this wouldn't even be happening."