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I'm left pondering what my parents bestowed upon me. Clearly not their looks. I suppose they passed their love of parties to me, the ability to converse with anyone about nearly any topic, the gift of reading people – even if I couldn't read those closest to me – and my love of food. Some of my favorite memories of my parents are when we would sit up late at night after a festival or ball and stuff our faces with the leftovers. Sitting outside on the terrace, breathing in the warm, dry air of the desert, looking across the city flooded with lights and listening to the music playing in the streets below, we'd laugh together and gossip about everyone we'd interacted with. I smile at the memory of seeing them with their guards lowered and royal burdens lifted even if just for a moment. I miss them. Despite everything they've done, all the lies they've spun and damage they've caused, I will always love them. Or I suppose, love them for who I thought they were. I'm sure there were genuine moments between us, but right now, sifting through them isn't on the top of my list of things to do.
"Will you be attending Levanora this year, Soren?" Soraya's voice slices through my thoughts, garnering my attention.
The king's worried eyes shift to Esme quickly as he cuts into his lamb. "Not this year, I'm afraid."
"Surely King Armas didn't insult House Delaney by not having the decency to send an invitation."
"Forgive me, sister, I meant I am not accepting the invitation, but Ronan will go in my stead."
Ronan's brow furrows as he stuffs a gargantuan sized potato in his mouth, grumbling under his breath.
"Is that so, Ronan?" Soraya seems oddly impressed. "Nice to see you're stepping up to fill your father's shoes."
"Yes, yes," he says flippantly. "I look forward to spending a whole month in the frost-bitten tundra that is Elowen."
"Ronan," his father warns.
"You're going to the Frost Kingdom?" I chime in, drawing everyone's attention.
"It appears so," Ronan shrugs. "Every year the Frost Elves host a festival called Levanora to celebrate the defeat of Drogon and the triumph of our realm. There's lots of food, dancing, parades, and entertainment around the city for citizens and royals alike to enjoy."
"It sounds like fun," I can't seem to hide the hint of excitement in my voice.
"It would be, if I was attending as a guest," the snide remark is clearly aimed at his father. "Instead, I will be going as a delegate, meaning I'll be sitting through endless meetings with other leaders reaffirming our stance on peace between the kingdoms."
"Might as well get used to it, Ronan," Soraya holds his stare, tilting her chin up slightly. "One day it will be your responsibility to lead and protect our people."
Seeing the rage building in the prince's eyes and knowing an insult is dancing at the tip of his tongue, I interject, "I'd like to go with you."
Once again, everyone's focus is entirely on me and I'm beginning to hate the unwanted attention.
"What did you say?" Nyx coughs, beating on his chest slightly.
"I'd like to go to Elowen," I dare a glance at King Soren who looks abundantly amused. "That is, if Your Majesty grants me permission."
"You wish to go to Elowen?" Ronan repeats, as if needing confirmation.
"I'm still trying to figure out who I am." I shrug, feeling the weight of the stares. "I suppose my Frost Elf features have me curious."
After a brief, agonizing moment of complete silence, Soren smiles and says, "I think it would be an excellent idea for you to go. Even if it's just to encourage my son to stay on his best behavior."
"I don't need supervision," Ronan grits his teeth just as tightly as he grips his utensils.
"That journey is dangerous," Atlas finally inserts himself into the conversation.
"Good thing she has Nyx to protect her," Soren says without missing a beat.
"And if Soul Eaters are waiting for her to leave Tronovia?" Atlas quips. "No offense, Uncle, but a handful of your guards will be overrun."
Soren slices a hand into the air and words die. "Logistics will be discussed after this lovely meal Soraya has gone through the trouble of preparing. Eat and drink your fill."
And with that, conversation tiptoes around the Frost Kingdom for the remainder of the meal, but I can't help the swirling in my chest thinking that I'll finally see Elowen and their castle made of glass. Maybe, just maybe, I'll finally get more concrete answers of who I am and where I hail from.
Twenty-Five
Shaye
As King Soren promised, after everyone has had their fill of dinner and dessert, we gather in the two-story sitting room and discuss the logistics of journeying to the Frost Kingdom. Ronan seems to come around to the idea of having me join, which is a relief. I have no intentions of being his nanny, watching over his every move and questioning his choices as the future King of Tronovia, so I expect we'll have a great time together.
