“I suppose not. Why on earth would they not ask her and her loom about their own daughter’s match?”
Aury shrugged, not sure how much she should be talking about this. “Politics.”
“The guards are coming,” Hilda said quietly from the doorway.
Aury nodded. “Can you fix this quickly? Please? I have gold.” She popped a small bag of coin on the table.
Rhianne swallowed and touched the bag. She wore no wedding band. “That’s too much.”
“We single women should stick together. Take it.” Aury shoved the bag closer to the cobbler, wondering why Rhianne hadn’t found her own love by visiting the Matchweaver. Perhaps it had to do with being an outcast.
Finally, Rhianne sighed and pocketed the coins. She got to work, fingers moving swiftly. The guards barged into the shop just as Rhianne finished up on the new sole.
“Thank you,” Aury said, slipping the shoe on. “It’s perfect.”
Rhianne curtseyed. “Thank you for not thinking I’m evil.”
“Anytime.” Aury gave her a smile.
* * *
As newly shod Aury and Goldheart led the party down the king’s road, the storm that Gytha had mentioned rolled in, sweeping the sun from the sky and powdering them in fresh snow. Two majestic structures appeared in the distance. The nearest had to be Loreton Palace with its old curtain wall and the shining palace of stone inside, boasting peaked roofs and newer architecture. To the east and farther away, the square towers and hulking darkness of Darkfleot loomed over the Silver River.
A shiver ran through her, shaking off the fatigue and tickling her stomach. There, she would become who she was born to be. Not a lie on the lips of the fae court. Not cattle to be traded by her uncaring parents. A ruler and a water mage, powerful enough to defend her kingdom and decide whom she would and would not wed. The idea felt impossible, but nothing about Aury’s life had been typical. Perhaps this time, fate would lend her a hand.
Hilda, Gytha, and Eawynn caught up to Aury, each on their own mounts from the fae stables, black stallions that only listened to them.
“That’s Darkfleot.” Hilda adjusted her grip on the reins, shaking her wrist and making the bells tied to her bracelet jingle. Her stallion slowed to a walk.
Aury pulled back gently on Goldheart’s reins, and the horse rumbled out of a trot and into a walk. “It’s perfect.”
Eawynn chuckled. “It’s frightening.”
“Exactly.”
Hilda nodded approvingly. “The Masters of the Order are away at the Sea’s Claw now, so you’ll begin your training without them breathing down your neck at least. They won’t be back until the Trials.”
“I like that. I wish I could go there now instead of having to put up with yet another Frostlight feast.”
Eawynn gasped. “But your betrothed will be at the feast!”
“That’s exactly what I was hoping to avoid.”
“He might already be at Loreton,” Gytha said quietly, glancing back at the king and queen. “They invited him before coming for you.”
Aury gripped the reins until her knuckles nearly burst. “Lovely. It’s fabulous to know how important my opinion is to my dear mum and da.”
Gytha chuckled. “You’d best watch your tongue, girl. They are old, but they still hold an army in their wrinkled hands.”
Aury groaned and kicked Goldheart into a run. Since she was going to be forced to attend a slew of incredibly dull events, she was going to first feel the freedom of a gallop across the open land. She tore her ribbon headdress from her hair and let her silver tresses fly behind her as she and Goldheart coursed through the biting winter air.
Thoughts of Filip passed through her mind. As an elf, he’d have pointed ears similar to the fae ones she grew up with. It was so strange that it had been a glamour. And he’d have those storm-gray eyes the mountain elves had, frightening in their intensity and able to see much farther than her human eyes. He’d probably smell like a pigsty and have far more muscle than brains.
As the entire party rode onto the grounds of Loreton Palace, Aury didn’t bother to hide her longing for Darkfleot, so close but so far.
The stable master greeted them, and a slew of boys took the horses, while servants ran up to hand out cups of wine and water.
Aury stared at the palace walls, wishing she could see through them. She couldn’t believe she was the princess here, that this was to be her home.
Athellore strode past her brusquely. “You will mind your manners when you meet Prince Filip tonight, Daughter. Or you will learn what kind of father I plan to be.”
“Good day, Your Majesties.” An old man they introduced only as Alfred took their cloaks.
Aury’s muscles tensed as she watched the king disappear through the palace’s jewel-encrusted doors with his water staff. As soon as she had one of those beauties, he’d be the one watching his manners.
Chapter 6
Filip stood in his stirrups. “Hah!” he shouted, urging his spotted gray mare, Lavina, through the snowy flats. Her name meant avalanche, and she’d certainly earned the label, crashing down the steepest of slopes like an unstoppable force of nature during the years they’d trained together. “You’ll get an entire bucket of oats and a full scoop of alfalfa when we’re settled, gorgeous. Loreton Palace is known for spoiling their horses.” He rubbed her neck and hoped the warmer climate wouldn’t wear her down.
Filip’s retinue rode just behind, and they were at the gates of Loreton before the sun set. The palace was more formidable than he’d guessed it would look, but it was nothing compared to the power the water mage training castle held in its form. They’d passed Darkfleot earlier, and its rough form was still visible in the distance.
He couldn’t wait to talk to one of the Order Masters, to the ones who’d helped his own people drive the Wylfen back with sheets of jagged ice and by flooding the river at Dragon Wing Pass. It had been amazing to watch from afar. He couldn’t imagine how wild it would be to see such magic up close. And he wondered if water mages really did have fins hiding on their otherwise human bodies. Fascinating.
The snow was having a fine time driving them into the gates where the human guards with their knobby noses and clumsy movements welcomed them. He tried very hard not to think about how his bride would resemble them.
Inside the courtyard, tall oaks slept in circles, their boughs decorated with blue ribbons—presumably for Frostlight. Candles danced in cones of what had to be waxed parchment, lighting the varied paths into the palace. A crowd of what Filip assumed were servants poured from a side door, led by a man dressed in gold-trimmed finery.
“This way, Prince Filip. Welcome to Loreton. I’m Alfred, and I will make sure all your needs are met. We’re drawing baths for each of your party now.” The nasal-voiced servant led Filip, Costel, Drago, Stefan, and their manservants down a corridor decorated with brightly colored tapestries. The threads wove together to show the ancient Lapis and Jade dragons flying in a storm-streaked sky above a man with blue-green hair and a woman holding his hand. The subject was straight out of the legends of the first water mages.
“But you do have Prince Filip’s all-important tea? He is obsessed.” Drago blinked his one eye and laughed, elbowing Filip.