Page 14 of Mistress of Hours

“Yes, well, we did what we must to be less threatening to those outside of Ichorna. Even the necromancers of Daosbor are more appealing than blood mages, it seems,” Evienne said with a small laugh.

“Fascinating. Thank you again for the invitation,” Orion said, stopping just outside the door of the hall. They now stood in a lovely cloister, the crisp breeze gently rustling the bushes and small trees that populated the little garden at the center.

Evienne smiled at him. “Of course, it was lovely to have you,” she said lightly.

A wicked gleam lit his eyes then, and—despite her every effort not to—she was suddenly thinking of how her back had tingled when he whispered in her ear.

“When you have me, Evienne, it will be more than just lovely,” he said, his rich voice barely more than a whisper. He smirked at her, his black hair falling onto his cheek. Evienne was frozen; she knew her mouth must be agape, but she couldn’t manage to move. She just stared at him, taking in every detail as he studied her right back.

“Have a good afternoon,” he said with a bit of laughter in his voice as he turned and strode away. Evienne stared after himand tried desperately to convince herself to forget what had just happened.

Chapter Nine

The subsequent dayspassed in a flurry of performative activity. Evienne and the Beitarans attended meals in the great hall, toured the city, and had tea with the queens. Lord Lùtair—who insisted Evienne should call him Solon—seemed particularly interested in Léhiona, but the Queen Consort did not return his curiosity. Evienne assumed something about the magic that silenced Léhiona would cause her distress if she tried to reminisce with the Beitarans; as a result, it seemed she preferred to keep her distance rather than test the limits of the magic that bound her.

Solon was often occupied throughout the day by various diplomatic talks with other nobles, which meant Evienne was left alone with Orion for long stretches of time. All of the conversation with him since the lecture had been pleasant, albeit shallow. No more whispered flirtations. It was enough to make her think she had imagined the whole thing.

Instead, discussions of palace architecture had featured heavily, but always with the witty undertone of humor she was coming to expect from the Professor. She had no idea what the Beitarans’ true motives for this trip could be, but at least they did not seem malicious. Despite this, she remained vigilant, trying to casually discover more about their backgrounds. She spent hours pondering all the bits of rather mundane information she managed to get from them, trying to piece together some sort of plausible deeper reason for their trip here. Unfortunately for Evienne, they truly seemed to be here to enjoy themselves and socialize with the other attendees.

The reward for her pondering was nothing more than stolen glances at Orion and his confusingly, infuriatingly beautiful face. He was tall; Evienne was of average height, and she barely reached his collarbones. His shoulders were broad, but his frame tapered elegantly at his waist. His arms and legs were toned, but not bulky. He was all lithe, graceful lines and impossible angles. Evienne couldn’t keep her eyes off him.

Half of the time, she caught herself staring at him; he—embarrassingly—also caught her staring at him. It would have been entirely too humiliating but for the intense curiosity in his gaze whenever their eyes met. It was enough to make her face heat on more than one occasion.

On the evening of the official start of the celebration, the opening night ball, Evienne donned the first of many gowns she had commissioned for the month’s festivities. It was a shade of purple so rich it rivaled the midnight sky. Its velvet skirt was draped to move and flow around her legs from where it began at the curve of her full waist. The bodice was corseted, with a sweetheart neckline and sleeves that draped off the side of her shoulders. The back scooped down below her shoulder blades, and she wore her hair swept up off her neck in a pile of curls atop her head. Two teardrop diamonds hung from her ears.

Evienne darkened her lips to a deep blood red, slipped her silver bladed ring onto her hand, and made her way to the throne room. It was the largest, most ornate space in Lucinne. Its glass ceiling was latticed with delicate filigree bronze work. Stained glass windows in shades of royal blue and navy were situated at intervals around the space as well. The bronze throne sat at the far end of the room on a dais with a banquet table set before it. Aldith and Léhiona were already in their places when Evienne entered through a side door.

She strode up to the dais, sinking into a deep curtsy as she approached. The room echoed with voices from all of the guestsat the long tables filling the hall. She caught the sound of Cecelia’s melodic laughter from somewhere nearby and smiled as she rose to address the queens.

“Your majesties, I hope you are well and enjoying the opening celebration so far?”

“We are indeed,” Léhiona answered enthusiastically. This event was the culmination of years of planning for the queens. Evienne hoped they were able to enjoy the fruits of their labor over the coming weeks.

“How are your charges faring?” Aldith asked quietly, her expression remaining smooth and neutral.

“They are well, your majesty. Settling in comfortably, I believe.” Evienne kept her words vague, but Aldith’s appraising gaze made it clear she understood Evienne’s message that there seemed to be no imminent threat.

“Wonderful. We were glad to meet them the other day for tea, but we will hope to see more of the Beitarans in the coming weeks,” Aldith flicked her gaze over Evienne’s shoulder, no doubt seeking out the two northerners where they sat near the far wall of the hall.

“Ah, Evienne, our very own High Sangviere!” Sylvain called to her as he made his way over to where she stood before the queens.

“Sylvain, it’s so good to see you!” Evienne threw her arms around him in a hug which he happily returned. Aldith cleared her throat, and Evienne remembered herself, quickly letting go of Sylvain as she shot Aldith an apologetic look.

The prince hadn’t changed much in the year since he’d seen her; she supposed he had just settled more into his adulthood. His frame was a bit less lanky, but his tan skin and dark curls were just like his sister’s.

Sylvain rolled his eyes conspiratorially and whispered just for her, “Let’s catch up sometime when the hawk isn’t watching?”He winked at her, turning to give an elaborate flourishing bow to Aldith, and Evienne bit her lip to avoid smiling. He strode off into the crowd, and Evienne curtsied, turning to make her way to her own seat near Solon and Orion. She and the queens had decided to keep their friendship less public for the duration of the celebration—flaunting their close personal ties could raise suspicions with their Beitaran visitors—but Evienne couldn’t help her excitement at seeing Sylvain. He was like a little brother to her, too.

Sliding into her seat next to the Orion, Evienne reached for her wine glass and took a sip of the dry, spicy vintage. She could feel Orion’s attention on her before he spoke.

“Are you well this evening, Evienne?”

Every time he said her name, the way the vowels rolled through his rich voice sent a chill down her spine.

“I am, thank you,” she answered, a tad breathless.

“You certainly look well,” he said with a devilish smile. Did this man always have a bit of dark laughter behind his words? Evienne could never quite tell if he was trying to seduce her or not. If he was, it was certainly working.

“You are absolutely shameless!” She said with a laugh. She turned her face toward him then, their gazes locking. This time Evienne didn’t shy away from her body’s reaction to his proximity; let him see how he affected her. She knew her cheeks had to be a vibrant pink; she could feel herself flushing.

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