Chapter 13

T he knock on the door brings a sense of relief. I've been dreading this moment, but I can finally get it over with. The anticipation of the event is almost worse, going over what could happen again and again, and it's pointless. I'm just making myself worry about things I have no control over. I just need to trust in the Mother and believe I am strong enough both mentally and physically to cope with whatever we are faced with tonight.

Once we arrived in our ridiculously assigned, large, opulent suites, we actually did as the king suggested and rested. I suspect I will need my energy tonight. In the main bedroom of my suite, I found a dress that had been left out for me courtesy of the king. My mates hadn't liked it, in fact, they hated it. It's a beautiful dress, but unlike my previous gowns with tight bodices and flaring skirts, this is different from anything I've ever worn before.

It's a deep purple lace, and the top has a form-fitting bodice with a deep V-neckline. My bust is small from years of starvation, although it has recently started to fill out, thanks to proper meals, but this makes me look womanly, giving me curves in all the right places. Fitted lace sleeves end at my elbows, showing off all my slave marks and tattoos. The fabric hugs my hips and falls in a waterfall of material with one large slit up to my knee on the left of the skirt.

Ignoring the low growls of the two elves in the room, I roll my eyes and push up from my chair to answer the door when no one else moves to do so, the fabric of my dress swishing behind me as I go. Turning the handle, I open the door to find Naril, who freezes when he sees me.

Shaking himself from his stupor, he raises an eyebrow as he looks me up and down. "That's what you're wearing?" His tone is light and has a note of humour in it, but I can tell from the tension in his jaw and the slight furrow between his brows that he's trying to hide his concern. That's what worries me more than anything. I can cope with Naril's teases and censure, but when he's serious, that's when I know I need to be troubled.

"It was a gift from the king, I couldn't really refuse it," I defend, but I'm now wondering if I made the right choice and if my mates weren't just uncomfortable because of how tight the dress was. However, I also know that by refusing the gown it would cause more issues than it was worth, right? Surely there can't be any harm in wearing it? It's only a dress.

As if he can read my mind, Naril shakes his head, frowning fully now. "You know what he's doing by making you look like that, right?"

Suddenly feeling na?ve, I touch the goddess mark on my left wrist, tracing the symbol with my finger, something I do when I'm anxious. I have to fight the urge to back away from Naril, and instead, glance over at my mates for confirmation of what he's saying. Grayson is standing apart from the others and is the closest to me, his face set in a scowl. He had been the most vocal about me not wearing the dress, so I know it must be difficult for him to have to agree with the elf.

Tor is leaning against the bed in his tribal outfit, the same one he wore to the ceremony when I was accepted into the tribes. He looks relaxed, and I know the tribes' view on clothing is much more lenient. Vaeril and Eldrin are standing together with matching expressions of frustration and anger.

"Naril…" Eldrin snarls, stepping forward when he sees my expression. He places his hand on my lower back, and I instantly feel grounded as he glares at his twin.

"No, brother, she needs to understand what's going to happen in there," Naril retorts. He's right. Beyond being my friend, one of the reasons Naril's so useful to me is his knowledge of court life. However, there is a slight note of apology in his tone as he returns his attention to me. "You look beautiful, but you look dangerous." He emphasises the last word before continuing, "You look like a sex symbol. You're going to walk into that ballroom with their enemy on your arm, dressed in a risqué outfit. We all know it's not true, but from their point of view, you've turned their magicians against them." A growing sense of dread fills me as he speaks, gesturing from me to my mates. "If things go badly and you don't come to a deal with the king, whose side are the people going to be on?"

I realise he's right and I've walked right into the king's trap. By bringing my mates with me, I've shown I'm happy to ‘consort with their enemy.' Then by having the magicians as my protectors, I essentially flaunted to the entire city that I've taken away their warriors. If Naril is right and this dress is being used as a statement, then we've played right into the king's hand. Cursing, I look wide-eyed at my mates as I run through my options in my mind. Eldrin purrs low in his throat, pressing against me as Vaeril drifts closer, needing to comfort me.

Blowing out a breath, I turn my attention back to Naril. "So I should refuse the dress? I should change?" The decision seems simple now. If the dress is going to be the catalyst in this whole situation, then I just won't wear it.

"No, refusing the gift would be unwise too." Grayson sighs, his frustration evident, reminding me of our earlier conversation. "Wars have been started over less."

"Let me in, elf, so I can see what all the fuss is about." Revna's voice sounds from behind Naril in the hallway, frustration and humour evident in her tone. The elf huffs a laugh and moves from the doorway to allow my aunt entry. Her gaze instantly falls on me, her eyes widening slightly for a second before she quickly blinks, a critical expression taking over.

Humming low in her throat, she looks at the others and shrugs. "A dress is a dress." She turns back to me, and a slow smile spreads across her face, her eyes lighting up. "She looks like a queen." Her awed words send a thrill through me that I don't understand. I've never wanted to be a queen, I've never wanted to have any position of power, so why did I feel that way when she said that?

Sharing a look with Naril, Revna reaches into her cloak and pulls something out of a small bag she had tied to her waist. "We have something for you." Pausing, she holds the object in both hands, suddenly seeming…hesitant. Raising her eyes from the item, she meets my confused gaze, and I realise the hesitation is actually excitement. Whatever this gift is, she's eager to give it to me. "This has been agreed upon by all three races, and as the goddess' chosen, we think you should have this." Holding out the item, she presses it into my hands, and I see that it's a dark blue box.

It's heavier than I expected. It looks a little like the jewellery boxes I've seen the ladies in the castle receive, except it's larger than that.

"Aren't you going to open it?" Eldrin grumbles in my ear, and a sudden wave of irrational fear rolls over me.

Whatever is in this box is going to change everything. There's a shift in the room, and I can feel my mates gathering around me, the air electric with excitement. My fingers shake as I lift the lid, and my breath leaves me in a whoosh as I see what's nestled in the box.

A crown.

It's made of silver, with fleur-de-lis bordering the circlet. It's beautiful. It's perfect, too perfect. I brush my fingers over it, not quite believing it's real. I glance around the room, sure they've made a mistake, but their expressions tell me otherwise. Tor is practically grinning from ear to ear, and pride is shining from Vaeril's eyes. Finally, my gaze lands on Grayson.

I shake my head, sure I look just as stunned as I feel. "Did you know about this?"

"Yes, we all agreed." He winces slightly, and I know there's an untold story there. The elves and magicians wouldn't agree to anything easily, and I know several tribesmen who would object to putting a crown on my head. But that will be a story for another time. "The Great Mother is clearly at work here, and we need someone to unite us." He walks up to my side, ignoring Eldrin's low warning growl, his eyes earnest as he places his hand on my cheek. "That someone is you."

My heart pounds in my chest as I nod. I may not always feel ready, or believe I'm the right person, but they make me want to be that person. They push me to be better, to be stronger. I will become the person they need me to be.

Feeling my readiness, Vaeril gives me a full, unrestrained smile. It's so rare to see one of his complete smiles that it makes my heart flutter and my own smile appear, despite my fears. Closing the distance between us, he gently takes the gift from my hands, lifts the crown, and hands the now empty box to Naril.

"If you're going to make a statement with that dress, you might as well go all out." Holding the crown in both hands, he raises it and places it on my head. The circlet sits perfectly as he arranges my hair around it. Finished, Vaeril takes a small step back to admire his work, his smile still in place and his eyes gleaming. "Go out there as the goddess' chosen. Go out there as our queen."

"Announcing, the guest of honour, the Great Mother's chosen, Clarissa." The steward's voice is loud as it echoes through the now silent room. As soon as the double doors opened to allow us entry, it was obvious that the ball had already been in full swing. Dancers in the middle of the floor waltzed to a full orchestra in the corner playing beautiful music, while long tables laden with food had been pushed to the side. Lords and ladies were sitting at these tables, chatting away with each other, their plates full as they grazed on their food. That is, until the doors were thrown open with a bang and the steward slammed his staff into the ground to get the attention of the room. Silence had abruptly fallen across the space as our announcement had been made.

Dancers hurriedly scurry out of the way as the steward gestures for us to enter the ballroom, and it becomes obvious he isn't going to announce the rest of my party. The king sits at the far end of the hall, and as we make our way across the long room, I realise he's done this on purpose.

"Are we late?" I ask Naril quietly over my shoulder, never taking my eyes off the king.

"No, we are early." His reply is curt as he confirms my suspicions, and I know he's just as frustrated by this as I am.

I can feel everyone's eyes on me, partially because of the dress, but I hear awed whispers of ‘crown' and ‘queen' as I pass. It makes me feel powerful, which is an odd sensation for me, so contradictory to how I felt last time I was here. Although I don't want to take my eyes off the king, I'm so desperate to look around and try to see my friends. Is Jacob here? What about Wilson? Jayne and Aileen? Flicking my eyes to the side, I see only three of the five thrones are filled. My mother's, the queen's, is still empty, and on the king's other side sits Rhydian and Michael. The last throne is noticeably empty.

A warning, prickling feeling runs over my skin, and my attention instantly snaps to Rhydian. I don't know what drew me to look at him, he appears perfectly normal from a distance. The impeccable, handsome prince. However, with every step we take that brings us closer to him, the farther I want to run away. There is something inherently wrong with him, and it just seems to radiate from him, not that anyone else notices. His black eyes seem to mock me. He knows the effect he's having on me. Resisting the shudder that's trying to force its way from my body, I return my attention to the king.

His eyes are on my crown and my hair. Anger burns in his gaze, and I feel a sick sense of satisfaction. Movement just behind his throne catches my eye, and I see High Priest Rodrick glaring at me with a hatred that almost causes me to pause. I've never known what I've done to cause him to dislike me so much, but now I guess I've become everything he loathes.

With only the sound of our feet on the stone floor and the murmured whispers of the watching lords and ladies, we finally reach the dais of the thrones. I look up at the king, my aunt and mates half a step behind me. I'm supposed to curtsy or at least bow my head in a show of respect, but I can't bring myself to do it. I've spent too many years on the floor before this man.

"Your Majesty," I greet, keeping my head high as he leers down at us with gleaming eyes. "It appears we were given the wrong time and missed the beginning of your…" Pausing, I look around the silent room, arching a single eyebrow before returning my attention to the king. "Celebration," I finish. He simply smiles, opening his arms wide as if to welcome us.

"You're here now."

Enough of this. Striding up the three steps of the stone dais that separate us, I approach the thrones. The guards jump to stop me, but the king waves them away, not that they would have been able to prevent me. A snarl behind me does cause me to hesitate though, and I see the guards have stepped between my mates and me. My eyes meet Vaeril's, and I feel him through our bond, waiting for my command. They could easily push past the human guards, but we are trying to remain peaceful. For now. Taking a deep breath, I shake my head. Now is not the time to start a fight. Vaeril pulls back from the guards roughly, tugging a snarling Eldrin back with him. My eyes flick over to Grayson, worried he could slip into euisa, the killing trance mages can go into when they feel their mates are threatened, but he seems to be in control.

Turning back to the king, I suppress my own snarl at his amused expression. "Where's Jacob? Why am I here?" I demand, already tired of the games when I know we've only just begun.

"There will be time for that later." Waving off my concern with a flick of his hand, he leans back in his throne, crossing one leg over the other like he has all the time in the world. Like he's not scared of me at all. "You and your companions must be hungry." I'm sure he's making a dig at the fact I used to be starving, and from Rhydian's laugh, I know I'm right. The king frowns slightly at his son's outburst, glancing briefly at him before returning his full attention to me. He might have tried to hide it, but I didn't miss the look that flickered across his face when he glanced at Rhydian. It was fear. Why would the king fear his son's reaction?

Maybe I misunderstood and it wasn't fear. After all, the expression was gone in a flash… No, I know what fear looks like, I'm sure of it, I just don't know why.

"Eat, drink, dance. This is all for you, after all," the king announces with a saccharine grin, clearly dismissing me with a wave of his hand.

The guards must have parted, because I feel my mates gather behind me. Knowing my back is protected, I turn from the king and stride down the dais, hoping my frustration is not evident on my face. Picking a direction at random, I walk towards one of the tables lining the walls. The king is right about one thing, everyone will be hungry. It was a long journey from the guild. I nod at my entourage, and they spread out to mingle nearby, all while keeping a close eye on me and the actions of the king. The music has started up again, and dancers are hesitantly moving onto the floor. Low conversations begin around us, but I get the feeling we are the topic of many of those, based on the looks we seem to be getting.

Naril appears at my side and hands me a plate of food, holding his own overflowing plate in the other hand. Snorting, I accept the dish and pick at the beautiful, delicate food. We discussed not eating any of the food here in case it had been poisoned, but as it's a buffet, there would be no way for the king to know which food we would be consuming. Unless he didn't mind poisoning the entire ballroom in the process, which wouldn't necessarily surprise me.

Picking at the food on my plate, I scan my surroundings and see Naril was right about my dress. All of the other ladies here are wearing full skirted, modest dresses. In fact, they all look so similar that it's almost as if they were told what to wear. The atmosphere in the ballroom is tense, and even though people are obviously trying to appear as if they're having a good time, fear is palpable in the flash of their eyes as they glance at us. At first, I think it's the presence of the elves, but the longer I watch them and observe the multiple nervous glances they throw at the thrones, I become less sure. What exactly has been going on here?

My companions make small talk around me, picking at the food and making it look like we're ignoring everyone else, while actually carefully watching those near us. No one tries to talk to me, however, knowing I'm too wound up to hold a conversation, but my mates hover close by, their gentle touches reassuring.

I'm still desperately looking around the ballroom for someone, anyone, I recognise when someone calls my name. Instantly recognising that accent, I spin to see a short, red-haired woman hurrying towards me.

"Aileen!" Abandoning any pretence of ‘cool and collected,' I rush towards my friend, my mates close behind. Surprise fills me, she obviously recognises me without the magic Grayson used to turn me into ‘Lady Clarissa,' and I realise that Wilson must have told her. I saved Aileen's life the night I escaped and left her in Wilson's care, he must have told her the truth about me.

I reach out to place my hand on her shoulder, but she throws her arms around me, pulling me close for a hug, surprising me with her strength. My hands hang awkwardly at my sides for a second, since I'm still getting used to casual touch outside of my mates. However, I'm so pleased to see Aileen alive and well that my happiness overrides my discomfort and I return her hug.

Pulling away from her vice-like grip, I smile tightly at her and then nod at her father, who I see is standing just behind her, watching us carefully. "I've been so worried. Are you okay?" I inquire, realising her face looks gaunt, her smile tight, and her skin much paler than I remember. Glancing again at her father, I notice how worried he is. His body is stiff as he warily looks at my companions, and I get the impression he doesn't approve of his daughter being so close to the elves. Lord Bastian was always very welcoming of me before, not agreeing with the politics and hierarchy of the court, so I'm a little surprised at his attitude.

You have no idea what's been going on here since you left, besides, he doesn't know them like you do. You thought all elves were evil before you got to know Vaeril , I remind myself, thinking he's probably just worried for his daughter when their every move is being scrutinised by the king.

Looking back at the young woman in my arms, I can't stop myself from asking the question that's been burning in the back of my mind. "Where's Wilson? When Grayson told me he didn't return to the guild after the mages split from the king…"

Aileen's face twists, a shadow passing over her features as she looks around to make sure none of the king's men are listening, and then she takes a step closer to me. She glances at the elves at my side and the towering tribesman, an unspoken question on her lips.

"You can trust them," I promise.

Nodding, she blows out a pent-up breath. "Things have been bad, Clarissa." Her voice is quiet and harrowed, and I wonder just what's happened to have changed her from the carefree woman I knew. "The priests are totally out of control." She glances up at her father, shuddering at some unspoken memory. "They patrol the hallways and the streets, doling out punishments for those they deem ‘unworthy' of the Great Mother's love, or for committing crimes against Her."

Meeting Grayson's gaze, I feel his anger and horror through our connection and something else…guilt. He feels guilty for pulling the magicians from the city, knowing they were the only ones holding the priests back, and by leaving, it only gave them free rein to terrorise the people.

Lord Bastian huffs at his daughter's last statement, his voice low as he looks around the room to make sure no one is watching as he speaks. "Most of these crimes are either small infractions or made up. The punishments, however…" He trails off as his eyes land on someone over my shoulder. The sound of footsteps alerts me to someone close by, and my mates stiffen at my side. The steps don't falter, and as I glance in their direction, I see a priest passing by, his eyes boring into mine with a glare of undisguised hatred. Considering they are supposed to worship the Mother and I am her beloved, you would think they would show at least some respect in public, otherwise, it just makes it look like they disagree with the goddess' decision, which is a dangerous path to go down.

I impatiently count the seconds, waiting for the priest to leave, my mates close as they react to my anxiety. Finally, once he's out of earshot, I reach out again and take Aileen's hand. "Wilson?" I question, unable to keep the worry from my voice any longer. Her eyes fill with tears, and my knees suddenly feel weak as dread fills me. "No…" Worst case scenarios fill my mind, and a part of my heart feels like it's trying to fracture. Surely I would know if Wilson had died? I would have felt his death, right? The thoughts spin through my mind, one after the other, guilt plaguing me that he could have died alone while I was living in luxury in Galandell. No, he's not dead. Someone like Wilson couldn't leave the world without leaving a mark.

A sharp throb in my chest makes me groan and release Aileen, and I grip onto Eldrin. With Vaeril on my other side, my elves hold me up as I take a deep breath. Grayson's concern and pain are like knives in my chest, even though he's trying to appear calm on the outside.

"Control yourself, mage," Vaeril growls, drawing Grayson's attention. As soon as he realises he was projecting his pain towards me, I feel him pulling away from our bond. The pain subsides, and I can breathe again, so I send a wave of love towards my mage before turning my attention back to Aileen, needing to know for sure what happened to Wilson. "Tell me everything."

Aileen seems uncertain as she glances between Grayson and me, aware something just occurred, but she's not sure what. She shakes it off though and takes a deep breath. "Wilson…" Even saying his name seems to cause her pain, but she pushes through. "After everything that transpired with the queen and the slaves…he had been helping people escape from the castle for a long time before all of this, and when he heard what was happening with the mages…he refused to leave." Her voice is barely a whisper now, but I can see anger flash in her eyes, and I get the impression they must have argued about it. They were close friends, I even suspected that they were more than friends at one point, so I can't even imagine how difficult this has been for her.

Lord Bastian wraps his arm around his daughter, pulling her close. "All of the castle magicians who didn't manage to escape before the king found out were arrested and tried for treason." Although he says it in a matter-of-fact tone, his eyes say otherwise. He liked Wilson too.

"He was arrested?" Grayson steps forward, his eyes dark, and I know he's already running through plans on how to break into the dungeons.

"They tried, he escaped." Aileen says something else, but with the sense of relief that's running through me, I don't hear what she says. Realising it could be important, I force myself to pay attention.

"I'm not sure what happened to him since then," she continues, "but there's been tales of a rogue magician in the city helping the poor. I think that's him." There's a glint of hope in her eyes. She's grasping at straws, but I have to admit that if anyone was going to go rogue and help the poor, it would be Wilson. My heart aches, and fear for my friend is at the forefront of my mind. I just wish I knew for sure if it was him, if he was all right. Could there be a way to get a message to this rogue magician? If he's managed to avoid the king's guards and the priests who know the city, there's probably a very slim chance we would find him. We weren't exactly subtle about our arrival here, so if the rogue is Wilson, then he will hear about us one way or another. I just have to hope he comes to us.

My concern turns to my other friend here—Jayne. If Wilson isn't here to protect her, I fear for her safety. She wasn't subtle about her favour for Grayson and me, and that would make her a target.

"Do you know what happened to Jayne, my maid?" Grayson queries, taking the words from my mouth.

"I think Wilson helped her escape weeks ago. I've not seen her around," Aileen replies with a slight frown as she tries to remember. Glancing around the ballroom, she gestures to the dancers and the awkward-looking lords and ladies, who are trying to appear like they are enjoying themselves. "Things have been very different around here. Everyone is scared to place a foot wrong."

Considering the two of them, I can't help but notice how on edge her father appears. "Are you safe here?" I ask candidly, an idea coming to me.

"No one is safe here anymore, child," her father answers, his expression sorrowful as he looks down at his daughter.

"Come with us," I offer. They stare at me in shock, and I can feel my mates' surprise, but they don't say anything to contradict me. In fact, Tor makes a noise of agreement behind me. Holding Aileen's gaze, I let her see how serious I am. "When we leave here, come with us."

Father and daughter look at each other. It's obvious Aileen wants to leave as they speak in quiet voices. Lord Bastian is hesitant, and I can understand his apprehension. Aileen is his whole world, yet there is nothing but danger for them here. Releasing a huge sigh, Lord Bastian turns back to us and bows his head slightly. "Thank you for your offer, it is not something I take lightly. I will think on it."

Disappointed, I nod but try not to let my feelings seem too obvious. After all, the choice is his. "Don't think too long, I get the feeling our exit won't be as peaceful as our arrival," I warn. As I go to turn away, something triggers in my mind, stopping me as an idea forms. I'm not sure where it comes from, whether it's from the Great Mother or not, but it just feels right.

"In the meantime, let me introduce you to my aunt, the high chief of the mountain tribes, and Vida, one of the keepers, their religious advisers." Gesturing for them to follow me, I walk towards my aunt, who is standing just beyond where we had been with Vida, High Mage Ellis, Mage Samson, and two of the sea elves. They all turn to us as we arrive.

"Revna, this is Lord Bastian and his daughter, Aileen, they are friends of mine." Gesturing to the auburn-haired father and daughter, I introduce them to my aunt. "They will keep you safe if this all goes wrong, and if you decide to come with us, stick with them, they will help you." Sharing a look with Revna, I know what I say is true, she will keep them safe. She knows I wouldn't bring anyone to her unless they were important to me.

Lord Bastian and Ellis share a nod, and I realise they probably know each other. Leaving the two of them in my companions' safe hands, I move away, my mates and Naril close behind. I'm overwhelmed with what I've learned.

The priests are out of control. Wilson is gone, but we think he's alive and helping the poor in the city. Jayne escaped, but I don't know where she is. Aileen is here and secure for now. I don't know where Jacob is. Over and over, my mind whirls, trying to pick everything apart, but there's just so much I don't know. I still don't understand why the king has brought me here. Hands land on my shoulders, pausing my slow, mindless walk. Looking up, I see Tor staring down at me, his frown making him look more fierce than usual, but I can feel his concern for me through our connection.

"Breathe," Tor instructs. "We will figure this—"

"Sorry to interrupt whatever this is," a voice interrupts as a shadow falls over us, "but I was hoping to get a dance with the beloved ." The voice sneers the Mother's name for me, and I spin around to face the speaker. Rhydian stands several feet away, but before I can even blink, my elves are between us, creating a protective, snarling barrier. Even Naril has stepped between us, his hand on his scabbard at his hip. Grayson and Tor move in at my side, the bond in my chest vibrating with their anger. Whatever is wrong with Rhydian, they can feel it second-hand through me, and they don't trust him. I don't blame them, I don't trust him.

Tilting his head to one side, he watches me, those strange black eyes flicking down to the pulse point in my neck before slithering back up to my face. That's when I realise he's waiting for a response. Does he really think I'm going to dance with him? Raising a single eyebrow, I quirk up the corner of my lips in a semblance of a smile. "That's very kind, Your Highness, but I'll decline."

The prince laughs that strange, reckless laugh from before that had the king on edge, and it makes the hair on my arms stand on end. I never had much to do with Rhydian before, but this feels…different. Cocking his head again, he smiles and holds out his hand, ignoring the snarls of the elves standing in front of him. "I'm afraid that's not an option if you want your prince to survive." My heart twists in my chest at his threat. I fight to keep my face blank, but I must give something away because he knows he's won. "Shall we?"

With no other option, I place my hand on Vaeril's shoulder. When he turns with a frown, opening his mouth to argue, I shake my head, begging him to understand. I touch Eldrin's arm as I walk past him.

"Clarissa."

Grayson. Looking over my shoulder, I see my mage watching with sharp eyes, but while most may think he's asking me not to go, or warning me to be careful, I know otherwise. Stroking the bond, I send him calming thoughts and nod my head slightly, acknowledging what he's trying to tell me. He's close to euisa, the magical killing trance, and if he was to be triggered here with so many innocents around…I can't even imagine how much devastation he could cause.

"I won't leave your sight," I promise, knowing that at this point, it won't take much to push him over the edge. With my eyes, I try to indicate for Tor to help Grayson before turning to Rhydian, wanting to get this over as quickly as possible. "You have one dance." Taking his outstretched hand, I ignore his smile of victory and try to tell myself I haven't just played right into his scheme.