Page 98 of A Legacy of the Light

“To see what?”

She leans close to me to whisper. “Which of the vultures swoop in first. My money’s on that haughty witch who dragged her daughter away.” She gestures with her chin to the Seelie woman a few feet from us dressed in a gown such a bright purple it’s borderline offensive. It’s the woman who sneered at me before.

The musicians stop playing, and silence falls over the ballroom and a set of bagpipes sound from behind the curtains of the hall of chambers. Guests arrange them-selves so the king can walk straight into the center of the room and across to the throne room. Reyne pulls me so we’re opposite the hall of chambers and slightly right to the entrance of the throne room. Other Seelie start to group around us, including a pretty brunette in a pale green gown that sets off the brown in her eyes. She looks me up and down with distaste and a cruel sneer before she runs a hand down her delicately-beaded gown.

“Curtsey when they enter—don’t bow. Only the men bow,” Reyne murmurs. That information would have been useful when I first arrived.

The bagpipes continue and the sense of anticipation builds. The women next to us whisper excitedly about Tavish and what he might be wearing. Reyne rolls her eyes and I take a sip of wine to hide my smile.

The sudden silence when the pipes stop creates an additional buzz around the room. The guard next to the hall calls loudly: “Presenting, His Royal Majesty, King Raghnall Logan of Elfayne, and His Royal Highness, Prince Tavish Logan of Elfayne!”

The curtains are pulled back and the king enters the ballroom. He is dressed in a finely crafted deep green jacket with Celtic knots embroidered in silver around his cuffs, across his chest, and along his stiff collar. On his head sits an intricately woven crown with an emerald similar to the one in the Craobh Beatha. His black pants are cut close to his legs and polished boots reach his knees that catch the light as he walks. He would look handsome if not for the severe look on his face.

To the king’s left, a few steps behind him, walks the prince. My breath catches in my throat as I take in Tavish. He stands tall, walking with the confidence of someone who knows he owns this room.

His all-black outfit looks as if it’s been painted onto him. It’s so perfectly cut, there’s no mistaking the power that lies underneath. His jacket is embroidered like his father’s and a small sword sits at his trim waist, one hand resting on top of it. A smaller version of the king’s crown rests on his forehead and his hair is artfully tousled. He looks every bit the Seelie prince. Absolutely devastating.

The Seelie around the room bow and curtsey. I wait until Reyne dips beside me and copy her actions, lowering my head slightly and trying to keep my balance in these heels.

The king and the prince begin to walk toward the throne room where the huge golden doors are pulled open for them to enter, Raghnall keeps his eyes forward as if he’s bored.

The king sweeps past us first and his son follows a few steps behind. Tavish glances at the guests as he passes them by and I avert my eyes when he looks toward me and Reyne briefly before looking ahead again. He slows and looks back over his shoulder. Right at me. He stops and turns. The same heat from the meadow sparks in his eyes as he looks me over carefully.

The Seelie around me start to whisper and Reyne nudges my side. My lips pull up into a smirk as I hold Tavish’s gaze. I can feel the color in my cheeks and his smile mirrors mine. Tavish subtly dips his head and then turns to stride through the golden doors held open.

“Why was he staring at her?” a Seelie woman sighs behind me and I have to hold back my laughter. It sounded like she stamped her foot.

“Oh, tonight is going to be so much fun,” Reyne murmurs excitedly beside me. And I can’t stop the feeling of satisfaction. In a room full of beautiful Seelie, where he could have his pick of anyone, Tavish stopped to look at me.

The rest of the court follows the royals into the throne room, where the decoration flows through to bring the two rooms together. Tall candelabras scattered between the pillars add more light, and the night sky is just visible through the high glass ceiling, where the party is reflected in the panes.

King Raghnall takes his place on the cracked throne with Tavish stood to his right and his advisor to his left. I’m glad I haven’t seen Hume until now, his stare makes me uncomfortable when he immediately finds me. The crowd bows once more and the musicians begin playing again, louder than before.

The moment the sound fills the room, a group of women descend on the dais and curtsey deeply. Reyne and I have to smother our laughter when we see the Seelie with the purple dress and her daughter at the front of queue to greet the king and the prince.

I finish my drink and feel its effects loosen any lingering tension. I’m still getting a few stares, especially after Tavish acknowledged me so openly, but I’m finding that it’s bothering me less.

“We should greet them,” Reyne informs me as her parents join us.

Reyne slips her arm through Hector’s on the opposite side of Lady Garia and I follow behind as the general leads his family towards the dais.

As we approach, anticipation tightens in my stomach and my heart picks up pace in my chest as my nerves rise again.

Reyne and her family bow, and I wait a few paces behind to the side.

“Good evening, General Macleod,” The king greets them.

“Splendid ball, Your Majesties,” Hector replies.

“Thank you for your gracious invitation, Your Majesty,” Lady Garia says with another curtsey.

I can feel Reyne’s eye roll from here. Tavish runs a hand over his mouth to hide his smile and I bite my bottom lip to cover mine.

Raghnall dips his head in acknowledgment and Hector leads his wife and daughter away, leaving me to approach the dais on my own. I stop a few feet away and carefully lower my body, being mindful not to get my heel caught in the train of my dress.

“Your Majesties,” I say as I stand.

My eyes lock with Tavish’s. His heated gaze is openly roaming my body, lingering on where my leg is visible through the split in my dress. His jaw ticks as he looks at the small amount of cleavage I have on show.