55. Chapter 53 Arden

Chapter fifty-five

Chapter 53: Arden

T he first thing that catches my attention when I enter my room is that it's empty. The guys are all missing. I'm thankful for it. I need some time to think about what the hell just happened with Zorvan.

The second thing I notice is the stunning ball gown hanging from the bathroom door. The dark green of it is perfectly complemented by the emeralds and silver beading that is expertly placed on the bodice, and trickling down the skirt.

There's a note attached to the hanger.

"Blevora said you chose these colors. I can't wait to see you in them.

You'll blow them all away."

-Z

He must have had this delivered to my room while we were in the ballroom; before we had our conversation. My heart aches for him, my big dragon. I've been through a lot in my short time in Sangaris, but he's had centuries of torment. Everything he's been through adds another piece to the puzzle of why he is the way that he is, and why he pushed me out of his life–or tried to.

A knock at the door rips me from my thoughts. They don't wait for a response before turning the knob.

"Hey, pretty girl," Lysander says when his eyes land on me.

I offer a soft smile that he returns. "Hey."

"You okay? I know Zorvan borrowed you for a bit." His concern is warranted, but unnecessary.

I consider his question before nodding. "I'm alright. I've definitely been better, but things are starting to return to normal. Or at least the brief version of normal that I got to experience before everything went wrong."

He wraps his arms around me and pulls me to him. "Things will keep getting better. As soon as it's safe to have you mated to everyone, everything will feel right." he pauses for a second, then pushes me away from him and narrows his eyes at me. "You smell like him." He kisses me, slipping his tongue into my mouth, and I groan softly. "You taste like him too."

My face heats, and I clear my throat. "We started to sort of fix things."

"So you had sex with him?" he smirks at me.

"No! Not that I don't want to, but we decided it was best that things didn't go any further right now. Our truce is so fresh that we want to take our time getting to know each other."

He kisses me again, then brushes the tip of his nose against mine. "I'll leave you to get ready. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'll be better after tonight is over."

"I'll see you down there."

"We're not all going down together?"

"No. Zorvan thought it would be best if only Camus escorted you."

"Okay." I struggle to hide my anxiety and disappointment.

"It'll be okay. See you in a few hours."

Airen is waiting at the door when Lysander opens it to leave. She has a bottle of wine, and a hair curling rod in her hands.

"Don't get her drunk," Lysander warns.

"Wouldn't dream of it," she says, flashing him a mischievous smile before slipping in the room and shutting the door behind her.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, Lysander and Emyth stopped by and said that you might want some company for pre-ball primping."

"Of course they did. Always looking out for me. Well, get the cork out of that bottle and let's get started."

She pulls a corkscrew out of her pocket and opens the bottle before taking a swig straight from it. I giggle and follow her lead.

We sit cross legged on the bed facing each other and take a few sips, making small talk at first. This is the first time I've been able to spend real time with her since I've been back, and I didn't realize just how much I'd missed this.

"So who's watching the infirmary while you're gone?"

"Tara is actually down there right now. She's under strict instructions that for anything more than a scrape she's to come and get me."

"She's not helping to make food for tonight?"

Airen shakes her head with the bottle of wine to her lips. "She actually stopped working the kitchens."

"Why?"

"She started farming instead. She's a talented member of the Nature Court. She just didn't have the confidence she needed to pull it off. A few days ago I talked to Zorvan about giving her a small plot of land nearby to grow in, and he jumped at it." She shrugs. "I was shocked he didn't put up more of a fight."

"I think that Zorvan has made some serious changes to the way he handles things in the last few weeks." My cheeks heat and I cast my eyes to the mattress, not wanting to give anything away.

"You slept with him, didn't you?"

My eyes meet her narrowed ones. "No."

"Don't lie to me, Arden. You're not very good at it."

"I'm not lying. We didn't have sex."

"Okay, then what happened? Are Camus and Livarius not enough for you?"

I chew my lip, considering how much I should tell her. Our conversations up to this point have revolved around the differences between the human realm and the fae realm. She's taught me about herbs and plants, and the fastest way to kill a man with poison. I've told her about all of the minor conveniences I had in the human realm like a stand mixer, and pressure cookers. We've shared past experiences with both men and women. But I never told her all the little details about the guys. She knows they're my mates. She deduced that much. But she hasn't outright said anything about it.

"Sangaris to Arden," she says, snapping me from my thoughts.

"Well," I start, with a cringe.

She doesn't make me say it. "Oh my Stars. They're not enough for you, are they? Are they not good in bed? That would be a shame. They're both so beautiful."

I snort. "They're both very good in bed. Can you...keep a secret? It's so important that no one finds out. You can't even tell Tara."

She Shifts to her knees and leans forward. "I swear on the Moon and the Stars that I will not breathe a word of what you tell me in this room to anyone."

Then she leans in a kisses me, the wave of contract magic washing over us. Her lips linger for a moment on mine, and I look up into her big green eyes and smile. She sits back down.

"Now spill."

"So..." I start and look at the bed, again. "Where do I begin?"

"The start preferably," she says with a snark to her tone.

I chuck a throw pillow at her, but then I do start at the beginning, telling her everything about how Zorvan stole me from my home, and all of the flirting, and touching, and caretaking that he did when I was first here and injured.

I leave out no details, telling her about my first heat, and Jarrah turning into a caveman. I tell her about Lysander nearly killing Rupert because of me, and the way Jarrah called off his whole engagement just for me. Then I explain how Emyth and Tavin sneaked into my room while I was sleeping, and all the little details in between.

The realization slowly falls over her.

"All of them? I mean, I had suspected about one or two of them, but all of them?" she asks.

I nod. "Camus too."

"I wondered why Zorvan tried to kill Livarius. That makes a lot of sense now. I suspected something was up, but I thought they were just as enchanted by you as I was."

Her words hit a nerve with me, and I frown. "There's a part of me that wishes that was all it was."

"You don't want to be their mates?"

"I do. I care about all of them. They're all so smart and they each bring something different to the table. But the only reason they even wanted me to begin with was because of the mate bond."

"That's absolutely not true, and you know it. Stop being so self-conscious, and open your eyes a little bit." She pauses as I mull over her words, then says, "Let's get started on our hair and make up. We need to look spectacular for tonight."

We stand side-by-side at my enormous mirror and begin applying our makeup. I've just got my eyeliner applied to my left eye when I turn to face her.

"How do you know that it's more than the mate bond?"

She finishes her lashes, and turns toward me, taking my hands in hers. "I'm sure that a part of it was the bond. I'm not completely dense. The mate bond definitely influences things. But were you in love with the guys from the start?"

I shake my head. "I fell in love with Livarius pretty quick, but initially it was just physical."

"And you hated Zorvan in the beginning, right?"

"I hated Camus, too. I vowed to myself that I would never fall in love with him, but that lasted all of a few weeks."

"And now look at you. You've got those pretty marks on your neck to tell everyone you're his."

I reach up and brush my fingers over the scars on my throat. "Those actually came first. He forced the bond the day after we met." I won't go into all the other details about what happened in that dungeon. I don't need her hating Camus when it took me so long to come to terms with things myself.

"I see. Well, regardless, you came to love him over time. And you said yourself that it wasn't like Tavin and Emyth were throwing themselves at you when you first arrived. They both kept their distance. They care about you on a level much deeper than base instinct. So stop fretting over whether or not they would have cared about you without the bond, and just enjoy your men."

I suck in a deep breath, nod, and return to doing my makeup. Things are quiet as we start working on our hair but eventually Airen speaks up again.

"Why did Zorvan send you away?"

A pit forms in my gut as I clear my throat and sigh. "He found out who my dad was, and tried to sever the bond."

When my eyes find hers in the reflection of the mirror, they're wide, and her mouth hangs open in horror.

"When I get my hands on him," she says, aggressively slamming her curling rod down on the counter.

"It's fine. I think..." I pause. I haven't said it out loud, but... "I think it needed to happen. I think I needed to meet Camus. I needed to see Cyndair in her own territory, and see for myself just how cruel the fae can be.

"People call Zorvan the Cruel Prince, but they're wrong. He's got a very firm grasp on right and wrong, and sees that justice is served to those who he believes deserve it; even if his punishments are misplaced sometimes. At his core, he is good. He just needs to learn how to be kind again."

Airen smiles at me. "You're in love with him."

"I'm getting there. For right now, it's just that I believe in him. Since I've arrived, I've seen a side of him that others didn't. Livarius was asking why I was always defending him, and it's just that when he would let his guard down—just for a second—I could see the ruler in him that he was always meant to be. I could see the mate he was always meant to be. I just didn't understand what it was that I was seeing."

"Ugh enough about me." I wave my hand dismissively. "Tell me more about you and Tara."

"She's great. And I could see myself settling down with her long term."

"But...?"

"But, she's so timid around other people. She doesn't even want to come to the ball tonight. She nearly died of embarrassment when you walked in on us the other day. It's in her nature; she's a prey animal. But you know me. I'm desperate to be the center of attention."

"There's nothing wrong with being different from one another."

"No, but I want to take her to the ball. I want to show her off. She's beautiful, and she's mine, and I don't even get to flaunt her."

"So start her off slow. Spend time with me and the guys. Work up to a room, crowded with people."

"Yeah," she says with a sigh. "I guess you're right. I'm just impatient."

"Funny since you're a healer; a job that takes precision and time."

She laughs. "That's because I know I'm good at it and I know I'll eventually get the job done."

"You should expect that she won't ever get to the point that she's comfortable attending balls, you know. You can't change people entirely."

"Says the fae who tamed the Cruel Prince," she deadpans.

"Believe me, there is no taming him."

We spend the next couple of hours getting ready. Once we're primped and Airen and I have effectively strapped each other into the corseted tops of our dresses, we have a few more sips of wine. It doesn't take long before Camus is knocking on the door.

I pull the door open, and the look of pure adoration that falls over Camus' face is worth the time I took putting myself together.

"Fuck the ball. I'm taking you to bed." He pushes me into the room and slams it behind him.

"Ahem!" Airen says. "You have company!"

"Don't care. Stay or leave. I need a few hours with my mate."

"I don't want to do this anymore than you do, but we need to go."

"Fine, but the second we're allowed to leave, I'm taking you to bed," he says, rushing me out the door.

The foyer is eerily quiet, and my hair stands on end. "This doesn't feel right."

"What doesn't?"

"I don't know. Just... something is off."

"It'll be okay, Arden. We'll be right with you the whole time. If anyone tries anything, we'll protect you."

"And what if anyone tries to hurt one of you?"

"Then you'll protect us." He says it matter-of-fact, as if there's no doubt in his mind.

"You sure we can't just grab the others and run away?" I breathe a nervous chuckle.

"You know I would do that in a second. But if Zorvan leaves Feldorn open for the taking, she wins."

"You're right. I know you're right. I just don't want all this responsibility."

"I know you don't. But it doesn't all fall on your shoulders."

We come to a halt outside the ballroom. Music and voices filter through the door, and the knot in my gut tightens even further. My palms are sweating, and I'm not sure if it's the announcement, or Cyndair that is making me anxious, but there is something putting me so far on edge that I might tumble off at any moment.

Camus spins me to face him and takes my hands in his. "Calm your nerves. If you go in there all amped up like this, she will smell it on you and she will know something is up."

I suck in a deep breath and Camus pulls me into his chest, careful not to mess up my hair or make up. He whispers, "There you go," as my heartbeat returns to normal.

Finally, I push back and look up at him. "Six weeks ago, if you'd have asked me where I would be, I would not have said 'about to attend a ball in Feldorn with Camus.' But here we are."

"But here we are. And you are about to be spectacular. So, shall we?"

He holds out his elbow and I loop my arm with his before he opens the large door, and we enter. At first, everything continues as usual. The din of the party overpowering the sound of the opening door. But slowly conversations turn to whispers, and there's hundreds of eyes on me.

We walk down the small flight of four or five steps, and walk along a long black carpet toward the dias where a throne has been placed for the occasion. On either side of the throne sits two chairs; there's one for each keeper.

There are tall tables about the room with no chairs, meant to encourage mingling. A massive table stretches nearly the length of an entire wall, piled with food and drinks.

And as much as I want to just go and grab a snack and spend some time with my mates, I can't shake the way everyone is looking at me.

"What are they staring at?" I murmur to Camus.

"You."

"But why? I mean, I look good but not that good."

"You look more than that good. You look incredible. But you'll find out why they're staring in a moment."

Cyndair's gaze falls on me, and the friendly smile she'd been sporting falls to a frown before she presses her lips together in a thin line. I suck in oxygen through my nose, willing my beating heart to settle once more.

I shift my gaze to the dias, my heart seeking out the others—my anchors. Livarius steps up beside me and links my free arm.

"We're supposed to walk you right up next to the dias, but not on it."

"Can I please get some water?" I ask, my mouth dry, my lips chapped.

"Not right now. No one can eat or drink anything until Zorvan gives his toast."

Once we arrive at the dias, I look up at Livarius. Having him and Camus touching me, is helping calm me down. While I was in Solardin, I had nothing to lose. I kept calm knowing that I would either succeed and get myself out, or I would die there.

But here? I'm among people I know and love. If I make one wrong move—if Cyndair decides to strike—people I care about will die. I only hope that my face is as stoic as I'm trying to make it.

"There he is...finally," Camus mutters. "I want to get this over with so I can get you back upstairs. Maybe you'll let Livarius, Tavin and me tag team you tonight?"

My face goes red for an entirely different reason, and then I shift my gaze toward where Camus is now watching.

There, walking down the black carpet with the keepers following him, is Zorvan. My mouth falls open as he approaches dressed in a deep green suit with a silver and emerald vest underneath. The crown resting on his head is more regal than the one he wears in his strategy meetings. This one is large, and silver and has enormous emeralds set in it. An emerald colored kerchief is folded expertly inside his breast pocket.

He looks like a king. He looks like a groom.

Camus reaches over and pushes my mouth shut with a single finger, then bows deeply as Zorvan passes. In my stupor I seem to have forgotten every single thing I was supposed to do.

Jarrah, who is also dressed to the nines, clears his throat loudly as we approach, and I scramble to move into a bow. He's wearing a similar suit except his is all in deep blues and silvers. As his eyes drift down my body, he scowls.

My gaze shifts to Lysander who's own deep purple suit and lavender shirt compliments his dark skin. He gives me one of his wolfish grins as he passes, but just like Jarrah, that smile disappears, and disappears quickly.

Beside him is Emyth whose suit is a charcoal color with a much brighter green shirt. It emphasizes his pale skin and striking eyes. Emyth, who wasn't smiling to begin with, now looks like he's ready to reap someone's soul.

Tavin wears a black suit with a deep red-orange shirt that nearly matches his hair. He smiles at livarius—a smile that disappears as he takes me in.

What is going on?

Each of them has a silver circlet on their head with a jewel matching their shirts. The circlet themselves remind me of celtic knots, made of woven strands of silver. Though much smaller than a crown, they're still masculine in their own right.

Zorvan leads them up the steps of the dias, just as we practiced, and each of them stands before a chair. Everyone in the crowd bows before them, me along with them. When I return to standing, Zorvan's bright blue eyes are locked on me.

The way he's dressed matches my own color scheme. The colors they're wearing clearly have meaning, and not a single person bothered to tell me that I would be wearing Zorvan's colors— royal colors. Zorvan set me up.