Page 143 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

Taking a deep, calming breath, I look up and meet his concerned eyes. When I glance around at my companions, I see they’re all watching me with varying levels of concern, even Naril, although that’s probably because he doesn’t want me to make a scene rather than him actually caring for me.

“I’m okay,” I say to the group with a soft smile, wishing that speaking the words out loud would make them come true. Turning to Saril, I give her a rueful smile, bowing my head slightly. After all, she’s one of the elders and a close friend of Vaeril’s, so I want to make a good impression. Having a panic attack in front of everyone was not part of the plan. “Sorry for making you worry.”

A gentle hand lands on my shoulder, and I manage not to flinch this time, looking up at the kind elf before me. “That’s not a problem, child.” Her face is much more expressive than the other elves I’ve met, but even if her face has remained completely stoic, I can tell from her warm voice that she means what she says.

I can see why Vaeril likes these two,I think as she steps back into her partner’s arms, his face showing complete adoration. The love they exude for one another is so strong that I have to look away, rubbing at the spot in my chest where my bonds reside. Of course, Vaeril sees this and steps closer to me with a question on his face. Shaking my head slightly, I let him know I don’t want to talk about it, but I draw comfort from his hand on my lower back.

We have to be careful we don’t draw too much attention. Vaeril previously explained that we don’t want the queen to know about the bond until we’ve sealed it. He didn’t say as much, but I got the impression they worried what the queen would do if she discovered it, that she might try and stop us from completing the bond. Thinking back to before Tor arrived and how close Vaeril and I came to sealing the bond makes me flush. Overwhelmed and fuelled by desire, I hadn’t been thinking straight. Now that I know the implications, I’m glad we were interrupted. Vaeril believes it would be safer if we seal the bond, but he doesn’t want to rush me and prefers the decision be wholly mine—not because my desire overtakes me or it’s my only option.

I also don’t think he’s ready for it. One moment, he can’t stop touching me, and the next, he returns to his cool elf façade, which I know is just a mask because I’ve seen the realVaeril. We both need to make the decision to seal the bond for the right reason—because we wantto.

In addition to our undefined relationship, we have another problem—he doesn’t know that I have a connection with Tor and Grayson as well. I haven’t found a way to tell him yet. He’s not stupid, he’s lived for centuries, and I’m sure he’s worked out that there’s something between Tor and me, but nothing’s been said about the magician. Before I do anything, I need to do more research and find out if it’s possible to be bound to more thanone person. I’m being pulled in three different directions, and I’m not ready to choose.

Gentle music starts up in the hall, and couples float into the center of the room to dance. Everyone else breaks off into small groups or turns to watch the dancers, so I use the opportunity to look around. Taelir and Saril are talking quietly to Naril, asking him about a recent scouting mission. Vaeril stays silent at my side as he looks out at the dancers, but every now and then, I can feel his gaze on my face.

Most of the female elves are wearing flowing wrap style dresses that I’d been dressed in when I first arrived, however these are much grander. They remind me of the sari type clothing I had seen back at Arhaven. A group of dignitaries from the far east had come on a diplomatic mission, and while I had still been a slave, I had snuck glances of them while I was cleaning the castle. They hadn’t stayed long, but I had admired the colourful fabrics and patterns—some of the only colour in that dark castle.

The male elves all seem to be wearing the same tailored doublet style jacket, with embroidery ranging from simple repeating patterns to actual pictures. One elf dances by me with a whole phoenix stitched onto the back of his jacket. They all move with a grace and speed that amazes me, as none of them hide the true nature of who or what they are. I hadn’t noticed before, but surrounded by his people, I realise that Vaeril’s been deliberately slowing himself down when he’s around me.

Finally, I can’t hold myself back anymore, and I look over to the marble throne where, sure enough, the queen is sitting, watching her subjects with rapt interest, and by her side is an uncomfortable Tor. He’s wearing his usual leather clothing with a large, wolf pelt draped over his shoulders. Standing by her side, he tries to make conversation, but she only seems to be half listening and nodding her head in agreement as she looks outacross the ballroom. There’s an empty chair on her other side, and I wonder whom it belongs to. My mind thinks back to when I first arrived at the palace and saw an elf who must have been a relation of some type. I’ve not seen him since I arrived, which is strange if he isrelated to the queen. Perhaps I’ll see him this evening, although remembering his smile makes me shudder.

As if she can feel me looking, the queen’s eyes flick to mine. They run over my outfit before she smirks and looks away, dismissing me with the smallest jerk of her chin before she turns her attention to Vaeril. Her dress is the opposite of mine. Where mine is soft and feminine, hers is tight and fitted, designed to show off her best features. The bright scarlet fabric catches the eye, and her beautiful hair falls in silver silken waves around her face while her golden crown perches proudly upon her head.

The dancing continues, and a couple of elves come up to speak to Naril or Vaeril, congratulating him on his return. I can feel the curious eyes of many, but thankfully, my companions seem to put most off from coming over to speak to me, and the few who do are buffered by my friends.

“I thought this was supposed to be a celebration of your return,” I finally say after an hour or so has passed. “Isn’t there going to be a speech or anything?”

“No,” Vaeril answers with a soft shake of his head. “This is just an opportunity for her to show off her new toy.” His eyes narrow as he gestures towards Tor, who has not so subtly been looking at me all night.

“Not to mention she knows how much it annoys you that the mountain man has to spend so much time with her,” Naril chimes in, and I know he’s right. I’ve seen the queen notice when Tor looks at me, taking in his expression as he’s forced to stay at her side.

“While I don’t disagree with your observations, I would encourage you to remember where we are,” Taelir comments in his rich baritone timbre. “The walls have ears.”

“You’re right, Taelir. That was thoughtless of us.” Vaeril sighs, rubbing a hand across his face before turning to me. “What do you think?”

“About what?” I question, taken by surprise. I’d been thinking how handsome he looked tonight and how I like when his hair falls across his face, ruining the perfect façade. I know it’s stupid, but he always seems so intact and unruffled, his signature frown in place as he looks at me. Seeing that frustration makes him seem more…human.

Right now, he’s staring at me like I’ve left part of my brain back in my room, his silver brow raising as he gestures around us. “The celebration.”

“Oh,” I respond dimly, pulling my gaze from his perfect face and looking at the party going on around us. “It’s not all that different from the human balls I attended back in Arhaven,” I reply with a shrug. After all, the hall in Arhaven was just as beautiful in its own way, and the people were all dressed up and mingling just as they are here with a watchful ruler at the head of the room. There is one difference though, other than the race of the attendees. “Just less death.”

“Ha!” Naril exclaims. “It’s early yet, still plenty of time for that.” The way he says this so calmly has me spinning around to gape at him, only to see his smirk. He’s joking. At least, I hope he is. Shooting him an unamused glare, I turn back to my examination of the hall.

“I don’t see Eldrin, is he not attending?” I query lightly, looking around the room to see if I missed him, making sure to check the darker corners where he could be lingering.

“You won’t see him,” a voice says quietly in my ear, making me jump and press my hand to my chest as if it could slow mypounding heart. Spinning on my heel, I glare at Naril, who’s now only inches from me. His grin is wide as it stretches across his face, and he has mischief in his eyes. When I don’t respond, he pouts at my lack of a reaction. “My brother is out of favour with the queen,” he explains, his face tightening ever so slightly. If I hadn’t been standing right next to him, I probably wouldn’t have seen it. “Even before his little stunt in the hallway.” He shakes his head, looking over at the queen as he speaks, his voice low. “The only reason he’s still alive is because he’s a twin and the queen is scared to bring down the gods’ wrath on her.”

My eyebrows rise in interest. I’ve heard a couple of references to the elvish gods now, but I hadn’t thought that the elves followed any form of religion as they always seem so despairing of the humans’ religion. Something is nagging in the back of my brain, telling me that this is important, so I make a note to ask Vaeril about their religion at a later time.

“He’s never liked these things anyway. People stare at him,” Naril continues, his voice lighter now as he turns to look at me.

I can understand that, and I get the impression that it’s not just because of the scar that mars his face. Not all scars are visible, and I understand exactly what it’s like to carry that sort of burden around with you.

The evening seems to drag, and I’m just waiting until people start to leave so I can make my excuses, but everyone appears to be enjoying themselves. A couple more elves have come over to talk to me, but my companions manage to keep them away, which I’m grateful for. I know I should be trying to make friends here, but my feet are killing me and all I want to do is curl up in the marshmallow of a bed that’s waiting for me upstairs.

The queen hasn’t left her throne, and Tor has been by her side the entire evening. A hateful feeling twists in my chest every time I look over in that direction, one I’m not used to feeling.

You know what this is. Jealousy. You hate that he’s spending so much time with the queen.Could my thoughts be right? Am I jealous of the time he’s spending with the queen? Glancing over, the feeling twists inside me again, growing as the queen leans across the arm of the throne and touches his shoulder. Instead of stepping away or removing her hand, he smiles at her, saying something that makes her laugh. The feeling increases.

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