Chapter 83: The Banquet (i)
AYLA
The morning of the banquet arrived with my mother already at the foot of my bed, clapping her hands like a general summoning troops to battle.
"Up, up, up. We have hours of work ahead of us and not a single moment to waste."
I groaned and dragged the pillow over my head. "Mother, it is barely dawn."
She ripped the blanket off me.
"The dressmaker sent your gown over last night. We need to see how it sits, and then we need to do something about your hair. And your skin. And..."
"My skin?" I sat up, squinting at her. "What is wrong with my skin?"
"Nothing that a good scrubbing will not fix. Now move."
The maids filed in moments later, carrying buckets of steaming water and armfuls of linen. They scrubbed me until I was pink and raw, rubbed oil into my skin until it gleamed like silk, and set to work on my hair with brushes and pins that made my eyes water.
My mother stood over all of it like a hawk, issuing a stream of sharp commands.
"Tighter on the left. No, the right. Pin that curl back...no, not that one, the one beside it. Do you call that a braid? Start over."
By the time they were finished, I barely recognized the girl in the mirror.
The gown was midnight blue, catching the light and rippling like water. The bodice was fitted, hugging my waist before flaring into a skirt that pooled at my feet.
My hair had been swept into an arrangement of braids and curls, threaded with silver pins that glinted like stars. My mother had even allowed a dusting of powder across my cheeks and a touch of color on my lips.
I looked like someone who belonged in this world.
"Who is your escort?" my mother asked, circling me with a critical eye.
"Damon."
She stopped mid-step. "Damon?"
"Yes, Mother."
"Damon?" she repeated, her voice climbing. "What happened to Ares? Or Cassian? I am quite certain either of them would have been more than happy to escort you."
"They were. I chose Damon instead."
My mother stared at me for a long moment, then let out a breath through her nose.
"Ayla, sometimes I wonder..." She crossed her arms. "Damon might be one of the princes, but he is the most unserious of the three. The spare, if I am to call it what it is. Unimportant in the grand scheme of things. You need to set your sights on the first two. Ares is next in line for the throne, and Cassian has been doing most admirably for himself with the healers."
"Okay, Mother."
"Do not ’okay, Mother’ me. I am trying to help you secure your future."
"Okay, Mother."
She narrowed her eyes at me but let it go. I had learned long ago that the fastest way to end one of her lectures was to agree with everything she said and then do exactly what I had planned anyway.
A knock sounded at the door.
"That will be Damon." I was already moving toward it.
I pulled the door open.
Ares stood in the doorway.
He stared at me. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, but no sound came out. His green eyes swept over me slowly, from the crown of my head to the hem of my gown, and something in his gaze made the heat crawl up my neck.
Ayla. His voice filled my mind, low and rough. You are...
I smiled. "You really should stop doing that, you know... talking in my head."
"Then you really should stop looking like that." His lips curved, and he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek and tucking it behind my ear. His knuckles grazed my skin.
"I came to give you something," he said.
"What is it?"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet pouch. He loosened the drawstring and tipped the contents into his palm.
A necklace.
A thin silver chain holding a single teardrop of sapphire that caught the light and glowed like a piece of the sky.
"It was my mother’s," Ares said quietly. "I want you to wear it tonight. I think it would look absolutely stunning on you."
My eyes stung. "Ares..."
"Just wear it. For me."
"Thank you." I took the necklace from his palm, the metal cool against my fingers. "I will treasure it."
"Good." He smiled, then glanced away from me, his expression cooling. "Damon."
I turned to see Damon approaching, dressed in formal black that fit him like a second skin. His amber eyes moved from Ares to me, and something flickered in them before he smoothed his expression into an easy grin.
"Ares."
"Brother." Ares stepped back, "I will leave you both to it."
He walked away, and as he brushed past Damon, I heard him mutter the word, Traitor.
Damon chuckled, watching him go. "I believe I just made an enemy for life."
I laughed.
He turned to me, his gaze sweeping over me slowly. "Well, well, well."
"Stop."
"I cannot." He stepped closer. "You are a vision, Ayla. And I do not use that word lightly. I have seen a great many beautiful women in my life. Goddesses, some of them, but I have never seen one who could make a man forget his own name just by standing in a doorway."
"Your flattery is wasted on me, Damon."
"Is it?" He stepped closer still, until I could smell him. "Because your cheeks are pink."
I pressed my hands to my face. They were burning.
"Are you ready?" he asked, offering me his arm.
"Almost." I held up the necklace. "I just need to put this on."
"Allow me."
He took it from my hands, his fingers brushing mine. Then he moved behind me, and I felt his hands at the clasp.
His knuckles brushed the nape of my neck, sending a jolt down my spine.
"There," he murmured. His fingers lingered, tracing the line of my neck before he stepped back. "Perfect."
I turned to face him, my heart hammering. "Thank you."
"Anything for you, Ayla." He offered me his arm. "Shall we?"
I took it.