Sign of the Throne: Book One in the Solas Beir Trilogy (20 page)

He never came back, and the days faded into each other, the seasons blending into one so that she never even noticed the heat, the cold, the wind, or rain. She had grown increasingly numb as the years had passed, especially after things had gone so badly in delivering the Sign of the Throne. The numbness was her way of dealing with her imprisonment. She had almost lost hope completely when s
he started dreaming about Abby.

The girl was young and naïve, but she was stronger than she knew—when she came into her own, she would be the most powerful seer Cai Terenmare had known for a long time.

AUTUMN MAGIC

A
bby was ready for the Autumn Ball long before it was time to leave. After nervously inspecting herself in the mirror for about twenty minutes, she gave up and decided to kill some time playing her mother’s antique upright piano in the living room. She hated waiting idly, and needed something to distract her from her building anxiety.

Getting lost in music was just the thing to pass the time. Abby was a decent pianist—she took great pleasure from knowing a song so well that she could just let go and allow her fingers to take over. She had learned that you have to feel music. If you over-think it, you’re sure to make mistakes.

Hmmmm,
she thought, as the music flowed around her.
Maybe that’s what Eulalia meant about knowing and letting go.

She thought about the sigil of the Solas Beir that she wore around her neck. It might be good for keeping the Darkness at bay, but it did little to settle the butterflies in her stomach.

Social events had never been easy for her—big crowds were unnerving. As much as she was excited about attending her first formal grownup event (attending prom with Jon junior year didn’t count—it had been a rite of passage all right, but one filled with teen angst), she feared having to interact with people she didn’t know. She was always aware of the subtle undertone in people’s emotions. Just because someone was smiling and being polite didn’t mean they liked you. Often, the opposite was true.

People followed social conventions, but it didn’t mean they cared. She found people with strong, opinionated personalities particularly abrasive. It wasn’t so much that they spoke too loud or did things that were obnoxious or rude; it was more a feeling that she got from them, a creeping, intrusive energy that overwhelmed her soul. She could always tell when someone was lying; she could hear subtleties in tone of voice or catch tiny discrepancies in facial expressions that others missed. Her strategy in dealing with people who were not genuine was to play nice and then escape so she could recharge from the encounter.

“Sounds pretty good,” Jon said.

Startled, Abby stopped playing and twisted around on the piano bench. “Oh! Hey, Jon. Sorry—I didn’t hear you come in.” She had been lost in her thoughts and the delicate music-box sound of the piano. With her back to the front door and the music masking Jon’s footsteps, she had been oblivious to his arrival.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to freak you out. Your mom let me in.”

“Oh no, it’s fine,” Abby said. She stood up and smoothed the skirt of her gown.

“Yowza.” Jon eyed her up and down. “Wow—you look
great
.”

Grinning, Abby turned in a slow circle. She
felt
great. The tailor had done an amazing job altering the strapless dress, and now it hugged her figure in all the right places, giving her a confidence she’d never felt before.

“
And
you did your hair,” Jon smiled, stepping closer. “You
are
trying to impress me.”

Abby had decided to wear her hair down. Her soft curls framed her face, falling around her shoulders and down her back. She brushed a stray curl from her forehead and smiled. “Thank you. You look pretty fetching yourself.”

Jon gave her that mischievous little grin of his, and Abby felt her heart flutter. She almost hated it when he looked at her like that—sometimes he was a little too handsome, and tonight, he looked really,
really
good in that suit, which set off his dark hair and soulful brown eyes, not to mention that fantastic tan of his.

Sometimes she regretted breaking up with him—he was perfect in so many ways. But that devious grin said it all. She could envision herself getting into a lot of trouble with him, and that was a problem. Kissing him again would be fun, yes, but he just wasn’t the right fit for her. The thought of being with him in a serious relationship made her stomach twist with unease. She could pretend it didn’t, and she could rationalize that yes, logically, being with him made sen
se. But, much as she adored him and may have wished things could be different, wishing wouldn’t make it so. She knew that from her core, and she couldn’t deny it. It was far better for them both not to go down that road again.

Besides, she needed to focus on David. And she wanted to. For the first time, Abby could see herself in a serious relationship
; that familiar squirming feeling in her gut wasn’t there with David. Just the opposite—everything in her was drawn to him. But even if it turned out she had no future with David, she couldn’t afford to get distracted. Not with all of Cai Terenmare at stake, and her own world too, should she fail, and should Tierney decide that he and the Shadows needed to pop over for a slice of human pot pie.
Not to be dramatic here,
she thought,
but the fate of the world is literally in my hands.

She tried not to fixate on the pressure she felt about David. She hadn’t seen him all week, but she’d had plenty of nightmares about the Shadows. She wondered if Eulalia was wrong, if somehow the Kruorumbrae did have magical abilities to prevent her from seeing David, and were keeping them apart. Or maybe he really was avoiding her. She knew that the Autumn Ball could be her last chance to reach out to him. And she still had no idea what she was going to say to him.

The doorbell rang again, announcing the arrival of the Buchans. Abby pushed aside her worries, playfully elbowing Jon’s arm as she slid past him toward the front hall. “Time to go,” she sang.

As Abby’s tall, thin father opened the door to Cassandra, her mother barred Abby’s escape, insisting on a flurry of awkward, last-minute photos with Jon. “You’ll thank me later,” Bethany insisted. “Someday you’ll appreciate this.” She held up her camera like a paparazzo and motioned for Abby and Jon to stand closer together.

“Sorry
,
”
Abby mouthed to Jon.
So embarrassing,
she thought, looking at Cassandra, who was hiding a smile but seemed very amused.

It felt strange to see Cassandra in her formal dress, such a contrast with Bethany Brown in her jeans and T-shirt. Some people said Abby looked like her mom had as a teenager, and Abby supposed this was true, even though she had her father’s blue eyes and not her mother’s green ones. Abby wondered if Cassandra and Riordan would act like her parents when the Buchan kids got older, embarrassing them by dragging out a camera.
Probably.

Shrugging, Jon slipped his arm around Abby’s waist, smiling. It wasn’t the first time he’d submitted to torture at the hands of Abby’s mother.

Abby thought back to when they’d gone to prom together. Different circumstances, same drill. But she appreciated that Jon was being so good-natured about it. His mom was really cool about giving him space, although Abby knew that Blanca would want to see the photos later.

Abby tried to be patient as Bethany snapped a few more pictures, and then she put her foot down. “
Okay,
Mom. Riordan and Moira are waiting in the car. We
have
to go,” Abby said. She gave her parents hurried hugs and grabbed Jon’s arm, steering him toward the door. She heard a giggle and spotted Matt hiding out by the stairs. Her little brother seemed very pleased by the annoyed look on Abby’s face. Abby stuck her tongue out at him, and then smiled.

“All right, all right,
go
,” Bethany said, waving Abby and Jon on. “Thanks for humoring me. And thanks for inviting them, Cassandra—I
hope
they behave themselves.”

“We
will
,” Abby groaned.

Cassandra bid Abby’s parents farewell. “Thanks for letting us borrow them, Frank and Bethany.”

“Anytime. Thanks for treating them, Cassandra,” Abby’s mother said. “Have fun, you two,” she called to Abby and Jon.

“Thanks, Mom,” Abby said, dragging Jon out onto the porch. She let him go briefly so she could use both hands to grasp the silky fabric of her skirt and raise the hem of her gown. The last thing she wanted to do was to trip in her heels going down the porch steps and face plant onto the driveway.

Having successfully navigated the steps, she looked over at Jon. He was walking beside her, watching her. He held out his hand and gave her a sweet smile. Returning his smile, she took his hand, letting him escort her to the car.

The Newcastle Beach Inn was aglow with light. Star-shaped, leaded-glass lanterns hung from the scrolled, wooden beams and corbels that adorned the inn. Soft yellow light emanated from the opaque, almond-colored glass. The steps leading to the heavy, carved wooden doors at the inn’s entrance were punctuated by tall, six-sided Moroccan lanterns, embossed with glass in alternating shades of amber and turquoise. Light leaked through the punched metal of the lanterns’ frames, casting intricate, ornamental shapes on the brick steps and bathing the
arabesque
-
tiled risers in romantic light. Tiny white lights sparkled in the tree limbs that bowed gracefully over the entrance and in the vines entwined around the tall wrought-iron fence that bounded the inn’s grounds.

It was a short walk from the lobby to the open doors of the ballroom. Moira, as matriarch, led the way, her arm in Riordan’s for support. Abby watched as Cassandra flanked Moira’s other side, just in case she needed assistance navigating the flight of stairs that led down to the ballroom floor. She didn’t. Moira walked with a careless but dignified air, wearing a sophisticated gown that wrapped her thin frame in layers of black silk. The capped sleeves and diamond brooch in the center of the bodice channeled the class of old Hollywood. She didn’t seem old—she seemed timeless.

At the top of the stairs, Jon offered Abby his arm. She took it, but paused, taking in the scene below. The Moroccan theme continued in the ballroom, with large, star-shaped lanterns hanging from arches between the ornate stone pillars that supported the ceiling. By contrast, a series of more rustic chandeliers hung from the ceiling itself. The metal fixtures, in a dark patina, curved in graceful symmetry, and rather than ornately carved crystals, simple glass spheres hung from each metal branch. Floor to ceiling mirrors covered the walls, the edges of the beveled glass set in frames stained a deep mahogany.

A dance floor was laid out in the center of the room where travertine tile gave way to parquet flooring. Surrounding this were tables covered in flawlessly white tablecloths. White paper star lanterns floated above each table, suspended by silver ribbons, and in the center of the tables were lavish arrangements of ivory-colored freesia, hydrangea, and orchids in pillared vases of mercury glass. Tiny pumpkins were scattered around the flowers, their creamy, coral-colored shells carved to hold tea lights that emitted a soft glow. Larger, white lumina pumpkins had been placed within floral arrangements on long tables around the edges of the room. Servers drifted between these tables, setting out hors d’oeuvres and filling drinks. Elegantly dressed guests sat in black-lacquered, bamboo chairs, chatting amiably and admiring those daring enough to dance.

Jon noticed Abby’s hesitation. “Nervous?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” she said. “It’s just so beautiful.”

“It is. And so are you.”

Abby laughed. “
Smooth
, Jonathon. Very smooth.”

“I mean it,” Jon said, staring into her eyes. “Ready?”

Abby smiled. “Yes. Let’s go.”

As Abby and Jon descended, she felt as though everyone in the room had stopped what they were doing and were staring at her. They weren’t really, of course. Abby could still hear the music playing and still see people dancing. She just felt self-conscious. Jon grinned at her, and his contagious charisma increased her confidence. She beamed back at him. Thank goodness she hadn’t come alone.

Abby caught sight of David. He looked dashing. He
was
staring right at her, only her, a slight smile on his lips, despite the fact that he was standing next to a gorgeous blond in a garnet gown. Abby smiled back.