Dark Fate: The Gathering (The Dark Fate Chronicles Book 1) (55 page)

Tables were laden with edible treasures of every kind. Fruits and vegetables surrounded roasted birds, beef shanks, and freshwater fish from the lake just outside the city walls. Mountains of bread threatened to cascade from their baskets. Servants flitted to and fro, decanting wine and seeing to the needs of the patrons as they filed in and settled in their places as directed by the stiff-coated men at each entryway.

“I think all you actually have to do is nod, smile, and look radiant. I understand that brides never get to eat at their own weddings,” replied Alexander.

She had not yet had a chance to visit this part of the Citadel’s palace, but the grandeur of the room vied for supremacy over anything she had seen at home. The engineers that designed the city had actually channeled a part of the flowing river itself into the great hall through an opening on one side of the room. A lively cascade of water tumbled down the rocks that had been skillfully placed to guide the flow into a narrow bowl perhaps thirty paces across. From there, the water rushed into a channel that promptly split into two curving arcs that surrounded a circular dance floor in the center of the room. Hidden somewhere beneath the rippling surface, the exiting water could neither be seen nor heard. Music drifted from the small groups of musicians located around the room’s walls in small, specially designed alcoves.

Alexander led her across the dance floor to a platform with a commanding view of the entire room. A group of people, including the queen and Bale, were already seated and sipping wine while waiting for the feast to begin in earnest. All of them stood respectfully as the pair mounted the steps.

“Congratulations, my son,” the queen said with genuine pleasure, then turned to face Sloane. “My daughter.”

“Hear, hear!” echoed around the table as drinks were raised.

Alexander bowed his head. “My thanks, Mother, and to you all.” He looked at each noble in turn. “Now, if you will excuse me. I must address our guests and get this feast started, before they starve and see me unfit for my station.” Several around the table chuckled as the prince took his leave.

A special backless chair had been placed at the table to accommodate Sloane and her extravagant gown. Several servants helped her take the seat between Lord Banlor Graves and Alexander’s empty chair. The gaunt man inclined his head to her, then looked toward Alexander at the podium. Silence fell slowly as the gathered people realized their future king was about to speak.

He is exactly where he was born to be
, Sloane reflected as she watched him capture the attention of the crowd and thank them for their presence and support.

He proved a rare statesman, as he didn’t waste the opportunity of so many influential people’s constrained attention, and spoke to some of the more pressing concerns briefly. The encroachment of the Wildmen from the Savage Lands and the increased hostility from the elves both made appearances in the speech, but before the people could start to become uncomfortable, he spoke of the hope this union provided not only to the people of Basinia, but all humans in the future.

I wonder what Erik would make of that
, Sloane thought as she listened to Alexander’s masterful balancing act. The fate of the elven scout and his burly companion were never far from her mind, since Sacha’s absence was always at the forefront of her thoughts.

As Alexander was bringing his speech to a close, thanking the soldiers of Pelos, and Bale in particular, for their role in her safe delivery to the Citadel, Sloane’s eye was drawn to a group of men dressed in fiery red. They were issuing in from one of the doors across the ballroom.

Eos, preserve me!
Sloane thought, and stood in disbelief.
Galen!

The men around her table scrambled to get to their feet as their manners demanded whenever a lady made her leave.

Sloane kicked off her shoes and, gathering the fabric of her train over one arm, she glanced at her table companions and said, “Forgive me.” Before they could so much as utter a word, she was gone, bounding down the stairs two at a time. Servants bearing trays leapt from her path as she picked up speed and headed for the artful bridge that provided access to the dance floor. Servants and guests had clogged the path, so she veered to one side and simply hurdled over the shallow waterway, eliciting gasps from those nearby.

Bare feet and thighs flashing, she charged across the center of the dance floor. The music that had accompanied Alexander’s speech faltered as the musicians stared agape at her headlong rush. Leaping again, she crossed the second channel and shouted at those unaware to clear a path.

If the guests were surprised, her brother was not. Head and shoulders above the tallest of the red-clad men around him, Galen bellowed, “Sister!” and spread his arms wide.

With another great leap, Sloane launched herself toward her brother and threw her arms around him.

He staggered only slightly from the impact and laughed heartily. “Eos save me, Sister, but it is good to see you,” said the Pelosian prince as he clutched her with both arms.

“You came!” She buried her face into his shoulder. Sloane hadn’t realized how much she had missed her brother. Sacha’s abduction and the wedding had dominated her thoughts as of late, but upon seeing his solid presence, her heart filled to bursting.

She wrinkled her nose. “You smell of wet horse.” Laughing, she released her towering brother and slid her feet to the floor. She kept both hands on his chest and peered up at his travel-stained face. “The least you could have done was bathe before coming to wish me well.”

Galen threw his head back and laughed. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have been in such a damned hurry to become queen of everything!” He smiled down at her again. “You clean up nicely, I must say. Can’t hike up your skirts like you did, though. It wouldn’t do for all the nobility to see those scarred, knobby knees.” His deep voice boomed above the crowd.

Sloane answered her brother with a punch to his ribs, drawing another deep chuckle from him as she shook her hand to clear the tingling in her wrist.

Galen gestured to the crowd behind her. “I think it’s time to make an introduction or two.” She turned and regarded the sea of guests and servants that had been watching their interplay. Sloane felt briefly ashamed of her headlong rush but eagerly embraced the opportunity to introduce Galen to Alexander. Taking a deep breath and settling herself into a more reserved state, she took her brother’s hand and led him to the prince.

“It would appear we have a late but most welcome arrival!” Alexander announced as he clapped in approval. Small patches of the crowd followed their prince’s lead, until the entire ballroom erupted into one united roar of applause. Once Sloane reached her husband, he addressed the hall once more, raising his hands. “Let us feast!” Yells of appreciation and admiration came from the crowd, the musicians filled the hall with vigor, and the milling guests began to make their way back to their seats.

Sloane took her new husband’s hand and pulled her brother closer. “My husband; I present to you my brother, Prince Galen Moridin, heir to the throne of Pelos.” She then turned to her brother. “Galen, may I present Prince Alexander Ventus, my husband and heir to the throne of Basinia.”

Alexander looked with fondness at her before raising his hand to grip Galen’s in welcome. “It is an honor to receive you, Prince Galen,” he said, shaking hands firmly, although his hand was completely engulfed in Galen’s grip. “I received your message last night and hoped you would be able to attend the celebrations.”

Sloane frowned. “What do you mean ‘his message’?”

Alexander traded a conspiratorial smile with her brother. “A surprise, my dear. For you.”

Her mouth opened but nothing came out.

Galen chuckled deeply. “Don’t judge him too harshly, my sister. I harbor blame as well.” He looked back at Alexander. “I am honored to be received, Prince Alexander. I’m only sorry I couldn’t arrive sooner.”

“I suppose I can forgive you both.” Sloane squeezed their hands. “Now, shall we eat?” She pulled them toward their seats at the high table.

More introductions were made as they took their places. A chair was added for her brother, who managed to wedge himself between her and Lord Graves. Bale gave salute to his prince and sat.

The only person at their table Sloane had not met before this evening was Myka Harristone, wife of the missing magistrate. Sloane was somewhat surprised to see her at the celebration, since her husband’s role as either victim or perpetrator in Sacha’s kidnapping was still in question. No evidence had been found to support either case, nor had any evidence been found that helped shed light on why the abductors had taken the captives and what they hoped to gain.

Sloane tried not to Brier’s questioned honor or the abduction too long. Although it felt selfish, she wanted to be happy at this moment with her brother and new family. Galen would have to be told of Sacha’s abduction soon enough, but not now.
Eos, not now
.

“Again, I am honored to be received by such august company.” Galen had drawn himself into a more formal pose and inclined his head in recognition of each person as they were introduced.

He’s changed in the time he’s been fighting on the borders
, Sloane thought as she watched him, reflecting on the year or more since she had spent time with Galen. She had last seen him leading soldiers to defend the southern borders of Pelos. An easy laugh was still present on Galen’s face, but there was steel in his eyes that reflected more of their father than when they had parted. A new light pink scar curled over his jawline. Sloane was no healer, but she thought the wound looked fairly fresh.
Still eager to enter the fray, then
, she thought, remembering his headstrong desire to always be the first in any fight, flinging himself into the thickest knot of brawlers as early as thirteen.

“I hope you will forgive the mud on my boots, but I didn’t wish to stop to clean up for fear I would miss the event entirely,” Galen continued, gesturing at his worn and dirty clothes, easily slipping back into his more genial personality.

Alexander laughed heartily and gestured at one of the servants who was watching from the fringe of the busy table. “Mitchell.”

The dignified-looking man came forward and bowed. “Yes, My Prince.”

“Bring a basin of water so that our honored guest might refresh himself.”

If the plans made for this celebration had been disrupted by Galen’s arrival, it did not show. A torrent of green-clad servants issued forth from the hallways, and the food was distributed to the waiting guests in a seamless rush.

“How fair the events to the South, Prince Galen?” The young General Farin Tyler asked after taking a sip of wine.

Galen looked up as he washed his hands in the bowl of water that had been set beside him. “They could be better. I hope you have surmised
why
the Wildmen move north?”

Several at the table exchanged knowing looks. There had been discussion of little else. “The hordes from Skelris are marching toward our kingdoms,” stated General Tyler.

Galen nodded. “A safe assumption. I would speak in detail about how we might aid each other in this dire situation.” A certain tension released from the general’s face and looks of relief went around the table.

Sloane smiled. Her brother was not one to dally when a call to action was needed. “Plans have been discussed, my brother. We wait only for your insight and assent to proceed in a joined defense.” She acknowledged the table with a nod.

Galen grunted with appreciation as he wiped the miles of travel from his face.

“Do you speak on behalf of King Hathorn?” Lord Graves asked, his gaunt features rigid and his eyes piercing.

Her brother snorted. “In some ways, yes.” Galen tossed the grimy towel to the table next to the bowel and began again with another. “But I must meet with him and gain his approval once a plan of action is decided upon.”

“Excellent,” said Alexander, continuing pointedly. “We can speak of details
after
the festivities. For now, enjoy yourselves.” Her husband eyed the minister of trade, who was beginning to open his mouth. The stiff man grimaced slightly and resumed picking at his plate.

Alexander’s expression was subtle but authoritative. Sloane was thankful for the opportunity to learn that look without it being directed at her, and she filed away knowledge for the future.

The reception was more than Sloane could have hoped for; the food and drink were as amazing as the entertainment. Jugglers, dancers, poets, and comedians kept the banquet room lively with conversation and laughter.

A hand lightly touched her shoulder, bringing her out of a conversation with the retired general, Laran Perisal, who was a surprisingly spry old man.

“May I have the first dance, my wife?” asked Alexander. She accepted his hand with a smile and accompanied him to the floor, excusing herself from Laran’s company.

“I can tell life with you will be full of surprises,” Alexander murmured to her as they stepped across the footbridge she had earlier ignored and onto the central floor.

Sloane blushed lightly. “I can only hope most of those surprises will be welcome ones.”