Page 90 of A Kingdom of Destruction

“It’s fine,” Nora insisted, helping Aven into a gown in shades of purple and midnight. “I have a salve to help, and the moment you’ve finished dancing the night away in your prince’s arms, we’ll work some spells to heal you up.”

“You can’t work them now?” Aven stifled the urge to scratch every part of her. “It’s going to be unbearable. I’m not sure how to make it through without finding a post and scratching myself against it like a cat.”

Another ball, another show.

How many conversations would she overhear tonight? Or would the people who gathered to drink in the debauchery of the royal family keep their thoughts to themselves?

She highly doubted it. More than likely, they’d be evenmoreoutspoken. Outright in vocally expressing their low opinion of her. They might understand the necessity of a marriage, but they’d continue to find fault with her personally.

Not only a human but a warrior. No better than a murdering grunt.

“Because it takes me more than a few minutes to gather the magic and send it where it needs to go. The salve will help until we have more time,” Nora assured her calmly, speaking in slow tones as if addressing a child.

“Of all the times…” Aven trailed off.

She hadn’t had this kind of problem since her first-ever fight.

General Hunter had started her off small, commanding a group of no more than ten against a small skirmish at the northern part of Grimrose when she was fourteen. Her sisters, her self-appointed guardians, had raged at the thought of Aven being taken away from her studies to lead an actual unit.

Yet she’d proven so adept during training, her assessments off the chart. Hunter felt he’d had no choice but to put her talents to the test.

The sleepless night had made her sluggish and slow, but the boils underneath her armor had taken up most of her valuable attention. She’d woken up with only an hour to spare before she had to meet her men and bolted for the healer for something to calm her mind.

They’d shown her the runes to help with those things.

The boils were back but large and hard to hide. Even harder for her to think about with the thousands of other things taking up valuable space on her plate. Once the ball came to an end andthe clock struck morning, she’d have to spend serious time with Nora addressing these ailments.

There was no way Aven would get married with breakouts covering her skin. The boils only grew into masses of rash.

Nora remained behind, and two guards from Cillian’s personal squad escorted Aven down the stairs. The crown prince himself waited for her outside the massive throne room doors. Several couples milled around the expansive foyer with their heads dipped in laughter. Everywhere she looked was color and life, and Cillian stood out amidst it all. The moment he saw her, his eyes lit, a smile pulling his cheeks high.

He held out a hand to her.

“If I thought you stunning before, it’s nothing compared to how you look tonight, Aven,” he breathed, the compliment sending ripples of pleasure through her. “You’re a vision.”

Nora helped her dress in layers of chiffon and lace, the skirt like a puffy cloud around her lower half. The torso was divided into two bands of fabric that wrapped over her shoulders, across her breasts, and then spread over her waist to leave only a small diamond of skin around her navel bare.

Small crystals had been sewn throughout, creating a pattern like rippling waves, and the glitter echoed in the gems at her ears. The choker around her neck dropped in a single tear-shaped pearl.

Cillian wore a tunic in a matching shade of moonlight, and Aven knew both outfits had been chosen for a reason.

“You’re pretty handsome yourself.” She lifted her chin for a kiss. “You clean up nicely, Cillian.”

Her heart might actually slam right out of her chest, but Aven drew a breath, held it in her lungs. She’d make it through. She always did.

One last ball, the wedding, and then?—

She’d worry about the future later.

The dance was straight out of a dream come true. Aven’s chest clutched, insides going still. The twins would have flourished in this kind of setting. They’d have loved every single minute of this, from the swell of the music at her entrance and the following round of applause to the decorations.

Geleis would have settled over by the musicians and asked them dozens of questions about their craft while Iona worked the room, drawing in potential suitors for them to meet.

Fionn would be paired with an eligible human princess at this point. Emmett would rather spend his time boasting with the other lords and generals, knowing every pair of eyes from available ladies were turned in his direction.

Maeve? She’d make her excuses not to attend, too busy in her workshop pairing new herbal concoctions to bother with festivities.

Aven pushed aside all memories of her siblings.

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