Page 226 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

With my aunt at my side and my mates close by, I stride into the home of my enemy. The last time I was here, I was no betterthan a prisoner, an ex-slave. Could we be walking into a trap? Possibly. I know there will be no easy way to get out of this. This time, I hold the power because I have something the king wants. I just have to pray it’s enough.

The 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, thanksto 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 naïve, 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 theclosest 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.

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