Page 175 of Silverbow
“They did all of this because we’re here?” He whispered as they settled into what seemed to be a place held for them near the dais.
“They love to be given a reason to feast,” Aiden grinned.
Colm chuckled. “Pace yourself.”
Serving women were already scuttling about, pouring wine and ale and the dark liquid that sent up curls of smoke. Other spirits, both clear and amber, were being passed up and down the benches and handed over shoulders to those still on their feet. The din rose to a roar as the hall filled, voices echoing up into the high arches until a gong suddenly sounded so loud, it sent ripples through the ale in front of Liam. Dwarves scampered for their seats. As the first resonating note died, a second sounded, and the hall fell silent.
“Your prince comes! Your princess comes! Hail House Stonehammer!” A voice boomed from the end of the dais, echoing around the silent hall.
“Hail House Stonehammer!” The gathered dwarves roared.
Men and women alike thumped fist to chest and stomped their boots in rhythm as the royal children emerged from a shadowy hall and climbed the steps of the dais. It filled the hall with a pulse that rattled Liam’s teeth and reverberated to his marrow. He might leave the Palace of Drozia deaf if they kept this up, but Liam emulated the others as the princes and princesses filed to their seats, the older dutifully nudging the younger along.
“His Royal Highness, Prince Leondonderick and Her Royal Highness, Princess Alsbeterra!”
Again, the thumping started, building to a deafening crescendo as the dwarves he’d dined with the night before took their places, beaming out at thegathered folk.Dining with bloody royalty.When Leon raised his hands, the pounding cut off. The herald waited for the echo to die amongst the columns.
“Their honored guests, Prince Oryn Brydove of Eastwood, and Lady Enya Ryerson of Estryia.”
Liam craned his neck to catch a glimpse of Enya striding in as the dwarves drummed cutlery on the table, the ring a high pitched clatter compared to the royal greeting. Had she not been on Oryn’s arm, he may not have recognized the woman with a painted face and a dress that was barely there. His companions chuckled as Oryn stiffly deposited Enya in the chair at Alsbet’s side and went to take his place of honor on the prince’s right.
Prince Leon raised his hands and the thrumming stopped. “Be welcome!” He bellowed. “We thank Simdeni for the mountain, Solignis for the forge fires, Mosphaera and Sakaala for the food on our table, and Nimala for old friends and new. It is in the honor of those friends that we gather in the sacred mountain tonight. My brother’s come home!” He pounded his fist to his chest as he turned to Oryn. “And he’s brought a special treat - the Silverbow!” Excited murmurs broke out as the he gestured to Enya. “Let the feast begin!”
Whoops and shouts went up as the prince and princess sank into their high backed chairs. Serving women came rushing forward with great platters full of deviled eggs, stuffed mushrooms, shrimp and oysters, things on toast, things wrapped in cheeses and meats, and things Liam had never seen or heard of before. His eyes went wide at the things tipped onto his plate by smiling, helpful dwarven women.
“Pace yourself,” Colm warned again. “This is just the first course.”
“How many are there?” He asked around a mouthful.
“Fifteen.”
As Liam stuffed himself to bursting, he hoped Enya regretted such a revealing dress.
Oryn
Perched high on the dais, Oryn watched her dance, never lacking for a line of partners just as she hadn’t in the inn in Ested. He’d thought Orimum taking the honored first dance might hold some of his kin at bay, but every dwarf in Tuminzar wanted to get their hands on the Silverbow. Leon’s cousins squabbled over whowould have next and Enya swirled like the sun, pulling half the court into her orbit. Oryn cursed whoever had left that gods damned dress behind in Drozia.
For his own dance of honor, he’d taken Gitaela by the waist for a turn about the floor. Leon’s eldest had no lack of partners either, but Oryn noted the way the girl batted her eyes at Liam bloody Marsh. His brother might run him through for that.
His irritation mounted as he watched Aiden haggle to the front of the line and lead Enya off into a jaunty dwarven jig. Oryn watched every dip of his hand, every flicker of his eye and scowled as she crashed into his arms, laughing at a misstep. Liam cut in forGreenridge Girl, which was known here by another name with different steps, but the dwarves followed the lead of the outlanders.
When they formed up neat lines for a stuffy Estryian tune, Colm took the place across from her, his smiles and hands wholly respectable as they came together and parted. Enya looked around at the others for the steps in a swirl of skirts. Oryn sipped his stonebrew, wondering what he’d done to deserve this sort of treatment from Alsbet. Perhaps he should have written more often from Durelli.
He had only wanted to deliver her to sanctuary and aside from his near failure, it suddenly didn’t feel like nearly enough. And he didn’t have the faintest clue what to do about it. So he sat and he watched. When a serving girl tipped a crystal decanter to refill his cup, Oryn plucked the vessel from her hands and set it on the table.
Alsbet slipped back into her chair with a laugh. “I’ve never known you to rely on liquid courage, Oryn.”
“I never needed it until I found Enya Silverbow.”
A dark brow arched. “She’s a girl, not a dragon.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Oryn muttered. “I’d rather take the dragon.”
Alsbet snorted. “Dragon or not, you should ask her to dance.”
Perhaps he should, but if she refused him, he might die in the middle of Leon’s hall. Oryn fled the dais. Music chased him from the open front doors as he stalked across the plaza to perch atop the low stone wall. He instinctively reached for his gifts and spun out the wielding for a barrier of air behind his back. He leaned into it and closed his eyes, drawing in long breaths. The chill of the mountain was cold enough to see on exhale.
Soft footsteps approached and he didn’t have to open his eyes to see who it was. He knew the cadence of her footfalls, even in the unfamiliar satin slippers,and whatever perfume Alsbet had dabbed on her wrists couldn’t hide the crackle of dragonfire in her scent. The hum filled his ears on top of the droning pulse from the palace.
