Chapter Six

E vienne had always found the dining hall to be one of the most breathtaking spaces in the palace. Impossibly high ceilings and tall, lean windows thirty feet high framed the room. Bronze metalwork adorned the space, outlining the windows and plating the beams arcing across the high ceilings. Warm white walls and dark wood floors gave the space a cozy, friendly feeling despite its massive scale. As in most places in the city of Lucinne, bold jewel tones danced around the room as the stained glass of the windows made their mark on the space.

Long mahogany tables arranged in two rows filled the cavernous space. The room this afternoon was bustling, but nowhere near as full as it would be for dinner. Evienne’s gaze quickly found Cecelia in their usual spot by one of the many tapestries adorning the walls. This particular piece depicted Ichorna’s first ruler and original Sangviere greeting the Tuanadair King of Beitar, Ichorna’s northern neighbor.

Cecelia was taking another bite of a sandwich, her nose buried in a massive book. She was so absorbed that she didn’t even stir as Evienne approached. Evienne sat down next to her friend and helped herself to a cup of coffee, adding a healthy pour of cool cream.Coffee wasn’t lunch, but she had slept in, so it sounded good.

“What’s got you so engrossed?” Evienne softly nudged her friend with her elbow.

“Well, I’ve started going through the books in that hidden room we found, and this was one of them. Extremely interesting.”

Evienne lifted the cover from where it was resting on the table and peered at the book’s title.

“ A Complete History of Beitar and its People, Vol. I,” Evienne read aloud.

“Mhm. I know we have some of their histories in the main collection already, but this one starts much further back. It even has some of their creation folklore!” Cecelia’s eyes were bright with excitement as she finally looked up. Crumbs covered the front of her black dress.

“Well tell me about it, what part are you reading about now?”

“It seems their culture is very concerned with balance, almost to the point of treating it as a religion. Back before they lost their magic, they believed their shifted forms were a necessary half of each whole person. They haven’t mentioned it explicitly yet, but it seems like they even had some sort of god that they celebrated with a festival at winter solstice.”

“Interesting; and we really didn’t know any of that about them before?”

“I’m sure someone did at some point, but over the past century or so, as their magic has faded, they’ve become a much more secular society it would seem. But you know we hardly hear a word from them, let alone see any of them, so it makes sense that we’d sort of lose touch with their customs and beliefs,” Cecelia’s brows creased slightly as she considered this. “It’s a shame, really. I’ve seen the illustrations and read the reports from the last diplomatic visit there when they went to collect Léhiona; Beitar sounds like a beautiful place.”

Evienne had always taken a particular interest in cultural studies. Their own culture was so focused on scientific and magical industry that the idea of something so completely different sparked her imagination now as she heard her friend describing it.

She knew that the magic of the Tuanadair had been fading over the past several hundred years. All reports said that the youngest generation didn’t have a single person left who could free their beast form and shift. As a magic-wielder herself, Evienne felt a deep sadness over this loss.

Cecelia caught her wistful stare. “What are you thinking about?”

Evienne sighed. “Oh, I just think it’s rather sad, don’t you? That all of those people have slowly lost their connection to magic. What a tragedy.”

Cecelia hummed her agreement. “I’m glad I can help us learn a bit more about their history, at least. It seems that lots of those books from the forgotten room have a similar theme. I’m sure they were just lost to time as they became less relevant. Beitar has barely had contact with us in any official capacity beyond sending consorts whenever a new king or queen takes the throne. What an odd arrangement,”Cecelia mused.

Before Evienne could respond, a guard strode up to their table and cleared her throat. “High Sangviere, the Beitarans have entered the city. They will be here in a few minutes.”

Evienne thanked the guard and rose. “Let the celebration begin, I suppose,” she sighed as Cecelia looked up from her book.

“At least try to enjoy yourself, Evi. I’ll see you soon!” Cecelia said.

Evienne set off then for the main courtyard in front of the palace complex to greet her charges for the next month with a lightness in her step she hadn’t felt in ages.

She reached the main doors and strode out into the filtered light of the day. Moisture hung in the air; Evienne could feel the tiny droplets as she inhaled deeply, steadying her breath after the quick walk. The scarlet velvet gown she wore wasn’t warm enough to be outside for long, but she didn’t want to waste time going to fetch her cloak.

The sound of horses’ hooves on the pavement soon filtered into her awareness. The lookouts had sent a messenger to say the delegation was arriving on horseback, but Evienne had expected more than the two lone horses that trotted through the gates.

A strikingly handsome man, lean and noble, sat astride a white gelding. His skin was a rich brown, his dark hair braided in many strands and gathered into a massive twist on his head. His features were sharp, his countenance reserved. Next to him, on a dappled gray mount, sat another man—willowy and graceful, with cheekbones so sharp Evienne could see them easily from where she stood at the top of the palace steps.

As they drew nearer, she was struck by his piercing, cool green eyes. They were the same shade as young grass coated in the winter’s last frost, somewhere between green and teal. His hair was an inky black and fell in soft waves to his smooth, pale cheeks. He looked otherworldly.

Evienne jolted when she saw the ethereal man’s mouth quirk up at one side; she had been staring at him as he and his companion came to a stop near the foot of the stairs. The pair of them made quite the imposing sight. After taking them in for a moment, she launched into action, smiling broadly as she descended the steps.

“Welcome to Lucinne, gentlemen. We are honored you made the long journey to join us for this celebration,” Evienne spoke as she approached them. They gracefully dismounted their horses, handing off the reins to stable hands who hovered nearby.

“Thank you for the warm welcome; we are honored to have been included,” the first man spoke, his voice gentle and polite. His features softened as he offered Evienne a close-lipped smile.

“Of course. We would never think to snub our neighbors and allies. We are grateful you’ve taken the time to be here. My name is Evienne Elodie D’Auclaire, High Sangviere of Ichorna,” she said, extending her hand to him in greeting.

“High Sangviere, it is an honor.” He took her hand and kissed it lightly before releasing it and straightening. She felt a bit flustered as he spoke again. “I am Lord Solon Lùtair, member of Beitar’s Inner Court and leader of the Glenkoe province. And this is my colleague and friend, Professor Orion Doelahn, our Royal Historian and a Professor at our University.”

Evienne inclined her head in a show of respect, not letting her brilliant smile falter. “It is my distinct pleasure to welcome you both to our city. Please, call me Evienne.”

“Evienne,” Professor Doelahn spoke for the first time. His voice was warm, open, resonant; Evienne’s eyes flicked to his sea green gaze. “It’s a lovely name for the deadliest woman in Ichorna,” his eyes gleamed with the slightest hint of mischief.

Evienne’s lips parted in surprise, her brow furrowing ever so slightly. Was this man…teasing her?

“I believe I may be at a disadvantage in our conversation, Professor,” she said, turning to face him. “It seems you know of me, yet I know nothing about you.”Two could play at this game.

“An injustice I will seek to resolve as quickly as I’m able,” the Professor answered, his smirk making another appearance on his obnoxiously beautiful face.

Evienne laughed in earnest then, but quickly gained control of herself. She turned her attention to Lord Lùtair, surprised at her own reaction to Professor Doehlan’s comment. “Lord Lùtair, Professor Doehlan, would you care for a tour of the palace now, or should I show you to your rooms?”

“Our rooms would be a wonderful place to start,” Lord Solon’s smile made another appearance. “We’ve been on the road for some time.”

“I understand completely. Once you’re settled and rested, I can show you around the palace. There’s certainly no rush; you’ll be our guests for the whole month of celebrations as far as I understand?”

Lord Lùtair nodded. “Yes, we are looking forward to our time here.”

The three moved off into the labyrinth of palace hallways, and Evienne found her curiosity about their visitors growing as she let her mind replay their first encounter just now. Evienne pointed out a few of the key public spaces on their way to the guest quarters but kept her commentary to a minimum, opting instead to let her thoughts wander. At the end of a particularly long hallway, she gestured to two bronze-plated doors across from one another.

“Here we are. Please ring for the palace staff if there is anything at all that you require. They can also get word to me whenever you are ready for your tour.” Evienne glanced up to find the Professor’s eyes fixed on her face. She felt herself blush and quickly looked away, beginning to move back down the hall.She refused to fall all over herself; she was a grown woman, and the High Sangviere of Ichorna.

“Thank you, Evienne.” Professor Doehlan’s voice floated down the hall after her. She didn’t turn back, but somehow she knew he was smirking after her.

·

A few hours later, a member of the palace staff came to Evienne’s rooms to let her know that the Beitarans were ready for their tour. She had been full of anxious energy as she awaited word from them; she had tried to sit and read and enjoy a bit of quiet time, but it had been nearly impossible. She set out for the guest wing, only to run into Professor Doehlan in the entry hall just inside the main door she met them at earlier in the day.

“Professor,” she said in greeting as he strode up to her. She offered her hand, and he took it, brushing his lips just over her knuckles. She sucked in a breath as a shiver ran through her entire body at the contact. She had to pull herself together; this wasn’t the first beautiful person she’d ever seen.

“It is a pleasure to see you again,” he answered, voice smooth as honey when he released her hand.

“I was on my way to fetch you and Lord Lùtair for a tour as requested. Will he be joining us?”

“He has a bit of a headache, unfortunately, so you’ll have to settle for me,” he answered.

“I am sorry to hear he’s unwell; I do hope he knows to alert the staff to anything he might need,” Evienne said, trying to remain professional in the face of spending time alone with this man who had her stomach doing flips. It occurred to her to be suspicious that Lord Lùtair was having Professor Doehlan distract her while he poked around the palace alone, but it was still early enough in the evening that there would likely be too many people around for him to go snooping unnoticed by the staff. However improbable, she had a job to do, and she refused to be taken in.

“He does. I am sure he will make a quick recovery. Where do you recommend we begin our tour?” Professor Doehlan asked with a small smile.

“If you’ll excuse me just a moment, I nearly forgot to send word to my friend in the library that I won’t be able to join her for dinner this evening.” Evienne returned the Professor’s smile and strode to the nearest stationed guard on the other side of the entry hall. “Please alert the guard stationed in the guest wing to send word to me if Lord Lùtair of Beitar leaves his quarters,” she whispered to the guard, who nodded in response. She then strode back to where Professor Doehlan waited, examining a pane of stained glass.

“My apologies again for the interruption. Let’s start with the main spaces where the events will be held over the next month, then stop by the library and the gardens,” Evienne said, turning to make her way toward the Throne Room.

“No need to apologize. And please, call me Orion.”

She turned to look at him as they walked, and nodded her assent. “Orion, then.”

Orion walked by her side as they navigated the halls of the palace. Marble floors and walls were decorated with scrolling bronze metalwork all through the building; it was opulent, but Evienne had always loved it.

“So, Evienne, tell me about yourself. Are you from Lucinne originally?” Orion asked as they walked.

“Oh, no, I came here when I was twelve. My father decided it would be good for my character to participate in a work exchange at a school here in the capital. He used to be the governor of Mulhouse; that’s where I grew up,” Evienne answered casually. Her situation had been unusual and she wasn’t sure how Orion would react. She was the only person she knew of who had been sent away to work for their keep so young.

“I see. You grew up in the shadow of our mountains. It is very different that far north. Do you ever miss it?” He asked.

“I suppose so, yes. I miss the feeling of wild places. The city is beautiful in its own way, and it feels like home now more than anywhere else, but it is… confining at times,” Evienne said, glancing over at him. She knew she was, perhaps, being too open, but she struggled to find it in herself to pull back. If anything, being open might encourage Orion to share some of his own secrets.

They continued in silence for a few minutes until they reached the throne room. Evienne told Orion about how their formal events typically went, and they moved on to the dining hall and the great hall, talking all the while about the weeks ahead.

Evienne found herself wholly distracted every time she really looked at Orion. She had been with many attractive people, but there was something about him that was so interesting; she could hardly keep her eyes off him.

“Tell me about your magic; what is it like to be the most powerful mage in Ichorna?” Orion asked as they walked toward the library.

Evienne felt a laugh escape before she could fully process what he had said, and she glanced over to find him smiling at her. A dimple, of all things, had appeared on his smooth cheek. She was in trouble.

He waited, smiling, studying her face. Finally, she remembered herself and replied, “I wouldn’t say I’m the most powerful. Queen Aldith, herself, is a trained Sangviere.”

“Ah, you’re humble too, then, as well as incredibly accomplished,” Orion said with a chuckle.

Evienne laughed again, “I am only realistic. What about you, though? You were important enough to accompany Lord Lùtair on this trip; you must be quite well-respected yourself?” Evienne thought she should be using this time to make progress in uncovering his motives—understanding why he, specifically, was here, could be a good start.

“I just love reading, that’s all,” Orion said with a broad smile. “And it seems you’ve brought me to the right place for it.” She knew he was deflecting, but she didn’t want to press him.

They entered the library then, and Evienne showed Orion to the area where the catalogs were laid out alongside a map of the whole space.

As they left the library, Evienne realized she was disappointed that her time alone with Orion was coming to an end. She quickly scolded herself for such a silly feeling; she was about to spend an entire month with him.

They continued talking of things they saw as they walked—other rooms and artwork and views of the city framed by the colored glass windows. The sun had set by the time they came to the entrance of the guest wing.

“Ah, you’ve brought me back, I see. Tired of me already?” Orion asked with laughter in his voice.

Evienne smiled at him, “Of course not, but I am tired.” She feigned a yawn.

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t dream of keeping the High Sangviere from her rest,” Orion answered. “You’ll need it if you’re going to be dealing with me for the next month,” he added, mischief lighting his eyes.

“Goodnight, Orion,” Evienne said, glancing up at him through her lashes.

Orion leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Goodnight, lovely, deadly Evienne.” A soft gasp escaped her at his words—no one spoke to her like that—but by the time she had readied a retort he was already shutting his door.