Page 42 of Maid For The Dark Elf

Before I can even process that question, Aurelia appears beside me and pulls me into a warm hug that smells like lavender.

"Thank the Thirteen you're here," she murmurs against my ear. "I was starting to think they might decide my entire future based on fabric choices and historical precedent."

"Maybe if you weren't such a perfectionist, this would be a lot easier," Emeric rumbles from his position by the window, crossing his massive arms over his chest.

Aurelia whirls around, her platinum hair swishing dramatically. "This is going to be the biggest event of the year—maybe even the century. Of course I want it to be perfect."

Nerina rolls her luminous eyes, stretching languidly across the silk bedding. "I don't understand your obsession with marriage in the first place."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting a partnership like what our parents have," Aurelia shoots back, her violet eyes flashing with defensive fire.

Nikolai snorts from his sprawled position in the oversized chair. "There is when it's for political advantage and not—" He pauses meaningfully, his emerald gaze sliding toward the door. "Well, before the oldest leads by example."

The casual words hit me, a kick to the gut. The image of Caelric getting married—to some elegant dark elf noble with perfect bloodlines and political connections—rises unbidden in my mind. My chest tightens painfully as I imagine him standing at an altar, promising himself to someone who could actually belong in his world.

"Where is Caelric?" I ask, trying to keep my voice calm and steady despite the sudden knot in my throat.

Asterion glances up from his ancient tome, his eyes refocusing with that absent-minded intensity. "Off processing budget requests from little miss perfect here."

"Excuse me?" Aurelia's voice climbs an octave, her composure cracking completely.

"Well, that's what you are," Asterion continues matter-of-factly, already turning back to his book. "Perfectionist to the point of financial excess."

Aurelia draws herself up to her full statuesque height, every inch the offended noble. "Right. Time for all of you to leave if you insist on being entirely unhelpful and utterly unenthusiastic about what's supposed to be a joyous family occasion."

The effect is immediate and almost comical. Emeric pushes off from the window with a grunt, Nikolai unfolds himself from the chair with exaggerated slowness, and even Asterion closes his book with a resigned sigh.

"We're going, we're going," Nikolai mutters, though there's affection in his grumbling. "Try not to bankrupt the family treasury over flower arrangements."

"The flowers are the least expensive part," Aurelia calls after them as they shuffle toward the door like chastened children.

Nerina pauses at the threshold, her impossibly beautiful features softening. "For what it's worth, I think you'll make a beautiful bride. Just... remember that perfection isn't always what makes people happy."

Then they're gone, leaving just the two of us in the magnificent chamber. The sudden quiet feels almost overwhelming after the chaos of sibling banter.

I turn to study Aurelia properly. She stands motionless in the center of the room, her shoulders rigid with tension that wasn't there moments before. The magical light catches the platinum strands of her hair, making them shimmer like spun moonlight, but her violet eyes hold shadows that have nothing to do with the afternoon sun.

"You're wondering if I'm making a terrible mistake." Her observation carries no judgment, only gentle understanding.

"I'm wondering if you're as calm about this as you pretend to be."

She sets down a swatch of midnight blue silk and meets my gaze directly. "I've spent my entire life knowing I'd eventually marry for political advantage. At least this time, it's my choice rather than something arranged by others."

The honesty in her voice makes my chest tighten with sympathy. "That doesn't make it easier."

"No," she agrees quietly. "But it makes it bearable."

"Bearable," I repeat. "Aurelia, I don't know… I think you deserve more than just… bearable."

Aurelia smiles. It's a real smile, bittersweet and filled with melancholy. "Oh, come on, Rosalie. We all deserve better. But we deal with what we're given."

She reaches out and squeezes my arm.

"You and my brother know more about that than even I."

21

CAELRIC