Flame in the Palace

8. Toasts

The prince's plan to spend the evening celebrating in the great hall of the Ilona Palace spreads throughout the castle. It is a private social event that would not see the king or queen in attendance. Geffrey had explained that this was typically a private gathering of the prince's closest confidantes. However, in order to not risk offending the noble families, the invitation often extends to the highest-ranking members of each house. What would have been an intimate affair quickly turns into a party of prominent individuals.

Olympe has a dress selected for her by the time they return to the palace, reminding Myria that any social gathering is an opportunity to capture the prince's attention. Myria's dress matches Olympe's, a black and crimson ensemble that makes up for its simple design in its flattering shape.

"We should visit your friend, Lady Runewell, before heading to the great hall," Olympe suggests, tightening the dress's corset until Myria is appropriately breathless. "Something tells me she would appreciate attending with someone rather than being alone."

"While Mother normally declines attending frivolous social gatherings at court, she never misses an opportunity for free alcohol," Geffrey explains with a tight smile. Myria squints at his attempt at humor but can only discern his disapproval.

"Clove wine is a royal specialty, and it would be simply irresponsible if I missed on the chance to imbibe," Olympe defends without looking up. "It is all made better when you are surrounded by friends." She scoffs at her own words.

Before Olympe can prod her out the door, Geffrey holds Myria back to whisper in her ear. "I know that you're not my mother's responsibility and that you should enjoy this night, but I would appreciate it if you watch over her."

"You speak as though she isn't a grown woman capable of her own decisions."

Geffrey sighs. "I know. I just worry about her. She can be rather overzealous when it comes to drinking."

Myria nods to her cousin, and the three of them find their way to Eulalia's room. Her friend answers the door wearing a green robe, looking every bit the lady with no intention to leave her room. It takes some convincing on Myria's end, but soon, Eulalia dons another simple, black dress before joining them in the great hall.

The great hall is lined with tables and benches, luxurious furs adorning the walls like tapestries. Torches fashioned from animal horns illuminate the long room in flickering light, casting irregular shadows. The dark, smoky atmosphere reminds Myria of the relaxed air of the Morning Glory. The dull cadence of multiple conversations fills the hall, setting Myria at ease as no one seems to notice their entrance.

Olympe expertly navigates her way to an empty table in the corner, and Myria follows with Eulalia in tow. Geffrey disappears in the crowd of noblemen, and Myria realizes that not many women are in attendance.

"What's your poison?" Olympe asks, eyeing the barrels nearby.

Eulalia follows her gaze dubiously. "Uh, wine?"

Olympe dramatically rolls her eyes. "What sort of wine?"

Myria intervenes. "How about honeyed mead for both of us?"

Eulalia nods at the suggestion, and Olympe saunters away. Eulalia and Myria take a seat opposite of each other. Olympe returns quickly with the drinks, sitting next to Eulalia. Her friend takes a test sip of the mead before a smile spreads across her face. Olympe holds two glasses, one for each hand. She tilts her head back, quickly draining the contents of one cup and slams it back on the table. Eulalia jumps at the sudden sound.

Myria gapes at her aunt. "Did you find your clove wine?"

Olympe smirks and prepares to do the same with her second goblet.