Page 160 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
She didn’t know what guarded Minerva’s decision, but she imagined it was much the same.
They dismounted at the gates of the palace, Dillon taking all of the wargis apart from Crusher and Mace,who were carrying the Mirror between them. Hecate scooted off too, having apparently had enough of their company.
The rest of them trudged forward along the gilded corridors.
“Where’s the fanfare?” Beau asked. “There ought to be fanfare.”
Aislinn nodded, but it did not feel like a celebration. It felt like they were marching into a funeral.
A set of knuckles brushed against hers, before a hand slid against her palm, clutching it tightly. Aislinn looked across; Caer was holding her hand, his eyes still facing forward.
She squeezed him right back.
Finally, they reached the throne room. Announcements were made. Venus was already there, in a gown encrusted with emeralds, Aeron lurking by her side in robes of white. She leapt up as they entered.
“Did you find it?” she asked.
Minerva nodded. Bell and Flora went to the Mirror, hauling off Aislinn’s cape and setting it upright. Caer shrank back, like the Mirror could burn. A dark energy pooled into the room, sharp as wind.
Aeron and Venus stared at it.
“At last,” Aeron said, fingers brushing against the frame, “such a beauty.”
Aislinn swallowed. “Your Majesty,” she prompted, “we have done as you asked.”
“You have indeed.” Venus turned to the party, her smile radiant. “Prince Caerwyn, my home is yours. You may stay here for as long as you wish, under our protection.”
Caer breathed a sigh of relief. Minerva clapped his back. Several of the others came forward to congratulate him or murmur words of approval.
“I trust it was a successful journey?” Venus asked, finally checking their party for missing members.
Minerva nodded. “A few hiccups, but no significant losses.” She paused. “We killed the golem, Ven. The one who…”
Venus’ eyes widened, but then her face quickly softened. “I see. Well. That’s good,” she said, as if the death of the creature responsible for the death of her husband meant nothing to her. She turned back to the Mirror. “We should have a feast tonight to celebrate your triumphant return, and perhaps a ball in a few days’ time to formally welcome Prince Caerwyn into our home. Until then, I suggest you rest—I daresay you’ve earned it.”
There was a general murmur of agreement. They left the Mirror where it was and traipsed back to their rooms. Caer seized Aislinn’s hand again before they parted. “Can I come to your room tonight?” he asked, his voice a hushed whisper.
Aislinn turned towards him, to the serious, desperate expression in his eyes, the furrow in his brow.
She leaned forward until their breaths were mingling. If she kissed him now, she ran the risk of taking him right here in the hallway.
“How could I refuse such a request?” she said, mouth twitching into a smile.
“Are you trying to truth-dodge?”
“No!” she said, leaning forward and tugging on the strings of his shirt. “Come to my room tonight, or…”
“Or…?”
“Or I shall come to yours. It’s a vow, now. Or a threat. I’ll have to see it through.”
Caer’s throat bobbed. “I will… see you then, then.”
“I look forward to it.”
She slipped into her room, all coyness dropping from her expression the second the door closed. She ran to the bath and turned on the taps, tearing off her clothes and disappearing into the foamy waters before it was even full. She scrubbed away at the days of sweat and dirt and blood, massaging every pore, detangling the mess that was her hair. Finally, she crawled out, patted herself dry, and dragged herself into the silk robe that had been left out for her.
She lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to think of anything other than what would be happening in a few hours and why they’d agreed to wait in the first place. She should have pulled him into the bath with her, heaved off his clothes herself, sponged that dirt from his skin as she slid on top of him…
