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Inwardly, I groaned. All I wanted was some time alone, and I knew Demos being here meant he would march me right back to my parents and… them.
As I got closer, I could see his blue gaze on me. There was no way I could turn around and pretend I hadn’t seen him.
Sighing in defeat, I walked to the bench and took a seat beside him. He looked pleasantly peaceful. Did he know I’d be headed this way?
“My lady.” His voice was soft and deep, and the sound caused all the tension in my body to wane, to surrender to the sounds and sensations of the night.
I looked up at the sky and saw a half-moon sleeping in a sea of bright stars.
“Servant,” I answered, my eyes still on the dark sky. Moments passed by and still he didn’t speak. I realized he was giving me a gift.
Of all my encounters with him, this was the most meaningful. He had respected my wanting to be alone with my thoughts, and taken vigil, in a way, like a candle to keep me company in the dark of night. We sat there in companionable silence for a good ten minutes before he stood, and then, offering his arm, I stood as well, accepting it. Without a word, we walked back to the outer courtyard to join the celebrations once more.
If the people of Providence were acting differently at the appearance of the Ongahri, they hid it well. The music still played, the ladies danced, and the wine flowed without a single hint of unease. When the Servant led me to the public courtyard, where a dais had been set up with a long table for our family, it felt like this could have been any other celebration. Lanterns and torches burned, and fall flora decorated the courtyard, adding a romantic feel to the moonlit night.
Discreetly, I took the seat next to Mother and looked down the table, spying only two Ongahri warriors—the one I had pegged as the leader, who sat next to Father, and the other, a man with beautiful, long golden hair who sat to the leader’s other side.
“About time you showed up,” Mother hissed in my ear. “Your absence was noted, my dear.” Mother snapped her fingers at Helena, one of the servants who stood by with a tray of refreshments. “Please fill a plate for Lady Sierra.”
I tucked in my chair, not bothering to comment, knowing it would be utter folly to. I knew I had been in the wrong. As I sat forward in my chair, my gaze met that of the Ongahri leader’s. Father and Mother were leaning back, discussing something in hushed tones, giving me clear access to the warrior and his companion next to him, who leaned forward as well.
Noticing the companion’s dark hazel eyes and bright smile, I felt myself blush, then moved my gaze to the leader’s. His eyes were a lustrous black, like ink in a glass bottle by firelight. He stared back, expressionless, as if I were one of my father’s servants, not the Constant’s daughter. Just as his jaw tensed, I quickly looked away, my face so hot I could swear my hair would burst into flames.
The smell of food brought me back to myself as Helena laid down a full plate of bite-sized spiced chicken and steaming vegetables. Two ornate wine glasses appeared on my left, and I turned my head, curious as to who was seated next to me. It was Demos. I hadn’t even paid attention.
Mother nudged my thigh. She whispered, “Sierra, are you feeling poorly again?”
I could’ve lied and said I was. It was a legitimate excuse to leave the party and go to my room to hide out until someone called for me. But as I looked around at all the people I’d known my whole life, their happy smiles and laughter, I realized I wanted to stay and celebrate my last autumn festival in Providence.
Grabbing my mother’s hand, I squeezed it in assurance. “I’m fine, Mother. A little overwhelmed, I think.” I released her hand and drank some of the wine Helena had just poured, my gaze ahead of me. I couldn’t look at Mother right then, worried that I might start tearing up.
Seeing the Ongahri had stripped me of any confidence I had about facing my future. I felt lost and abandoned, even from myself. My life was so vastly different than it was weeks ago, and I felt a deep resentment of the great men of Titus with their machinations, their callous disregard of the “little people” who were affected by their maneuvering, as if we all were pawns on a chessboard.
“Citizens of Providence,” Father announced, standing now, his wine goblet raised. “Tonight, we not only celebrate the last night of our Autumn Festival, but also the eve of my only child’s betrothal and the joining of two parties in a ceremony that started over thousands of years ago, The Fealty.”
The crowd hooted and applauded. Mother grabbed my hand underneath the table.
“We welcome our esteemed guests, the Ongahri, to Providence and hope they will enjoy our hospitality here tonight and for the rest of their short stay.” Father lifted his wine in a toast. “To the Ongahri!”
Mother and I raised our glasses, as well as Demos beside me. I leaned forward discreetly and glanced over to the Ongahri. Both men were still eating. Were they deliberately being rude, or did they truly not understand this simple custom?
The crowd cheered, holding out their drinks and tossing them back in earnest. Oh, how I wished I were one of them, just a girl whose only worries were which boy to dance with and whether one of them would ask for my hand. A simple girl with simple dreams who’d marry a simple man. Instead, I was me.
I feared that wouldn’t be enough.
Chapter 9
Fadon
Fadon had to admit the food was more than good; several courses, each cooked to perfection, along with ale so sweet and tangy he had ended up drinking more than he should have. Even though he and his men were guests, it didn’t mean Fadon could let down his guard. But the ale had been expertly made, clean and pure, more beverage than filler. It made a more comfortable warmth than a drunken stupor waiting in the wings.
The mysterious Owl emissary had just finished making a speech about bringing people together in celebration, etcetera, etcetera; a song and dance Fadon hadn’t bothered listening to. Instead, he watched the people of Providence, searching for any danger, reading the air for anything suspect.
A servant placed a dish of what looked like iced pudding in front of him, something fruity and cold. Fadon gingerly pushed it away from him and held up his goblet for more ale. His Second did the same.
Jon leaned in close to Fadon’s ear. “Shall I signal to Yorkus now?”
Ah. The Fealty gifts. “Might as well. Before I fall asleep.”
