Book 2 of the Court of Embers Series
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Adara has not seen snow in 1,000 years. To Maren, it marks a new beginning. A fresh start to her enchanted life. However, to His Highness Seokjin and his dearest advisor, Namjoon, such a sight is anythi...
The individual introductions were easier than group ambushes. Thankfully, the other courtiers acted less on the latter, more content with staring at her from across the dinner table. She'd sat back and ate her food, settling into the rhythm of watching rather than asserting herself--and even if the prolonged pauses between each question and answer gave her a chance to leap into discussion, she chose not to comment instead. They would get all of their information eventually, but it would not be at the cost of her saying too much.
It had barely been three hours since her head hit the pillow that she rose again. Two ash servants entered her quarters with a bucket of fresh, perfumed water and a new gown less extravagant than the last but just as enchanting. As she sat and rubbed her eyes, she snuck a glimpse of the dark world outside. The hours of suspension before dawn were quiet and still, but the clouds thinned a fraction to showcase an indigo sky and its fading stars. Maybe, just maybe they would see the sun again today.
Too tired to speak, she grinned her thanks as her attendants brushed through her hair and helped her dress. Today's choice was a soft chiffon number, pearlescent white and long sleeved. White fur and pearls lined her thick winter cloak. They gloved her hands with satin and gave her precious fur-lined boots. She wondered if this was how they dressed in Aramore.
One of the servants rushed to answer a knock on the door. Maren ignored the fall in her spirits when she saw Emberlynn on the other side rather than Namjoon. The Captain sparkled in rich crimson, her blonde hair wound into a gorgeous chignon by a string of rubies. Gems dangled from her ears as well, all of the color making her lips rosier and the golden rim in her irises seem more orange than amber.
Seeing her without armor felt strange. The lines between them blurred, Maren unable to decide if she was a warrior, a volunteer, or simply a beautiful woman. But by the knight's somber expression, there was a lot less fight in her gaze than Maren recalled only hours ago. Wordlessly, she joined Emberlynn's side, falling into step.
The grand halls held servants, but also an emptiness. Her own footfalls and breathing seemed to be the loudest thing in the palace. For the first time she heard Emberlynn's as well. The castle had lost its collective voice, or held its breath in anticipation of the day. For the festivities ahead were not festivities at all, but a proper ceremony. A send-off, as Namjoon referred to it. A final parting to the fae men and women that danced and shared their light until Faine.
All of the nobles would attend and pay their respects. It would also double as a time to consider the current Dauphin, whom she hadn't been able to see him since she left the dinner table. He'd been swarmed by his people--and that meant by his followers, his blood, and his skeptics. He had a world to answer to, a realm that watched his every move.
As one of the footmen reared Maren's horse, Emberlynn caught her wrist.
"Be there for him. Help him."
It was all the Captain said before letting Maren go and leaving to grab the reins of her own steed. Perhaps it was the cold draft outside, but the request hit her like a punch to the chest. Ice filled her lungs.
The colder she became, the more she prayed she was enough.
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