The evening molded into darkness, the banquet hall filled after the joining of power. The rulers sat at their own tables, surrounded by members of their own courts, drinking and chatting about politics, ancient powers, and nobility claims of other royal members. Layla, on the other hand, sat quietly, surrounded by Lord Vermillion and other court members who seemed to have so much to discuss about the evening's events.
"Did you see King Malachai?" Lord Acrillis said, pointing a meatless chicken bone at another dark-haired, court-trained lord who smiled as he drank another cup of wine.
"He seemed like he was still shaken from the last Long Night," the lord drinking the wine said. "It's been seven hundred years. How long does it take to get over it?"
"It's not like she was murdered. She killed herself. Probably because she couldn't take the shadows anymore. When you grow up in a land of crystal light, the darkness takes a toll on you," he said, picking up another leg and ripping a piece off.
"Maybe it's not that simple," Lord Vermillion said, looking down at his cup. "Maybe the bond was stronger than some mere marriage. Maybe they were soul bound."
Laughter poured out of the two men, slamming cups on the table.
"Soul bound?" one of them shot out. "Malachai? Who would possibly let themselves get bound to darkness and shadow? Plus, I can't imagine the Shadow King acknowledging he actually had a soul."
"Nonetheless, it's been seven hundred years and you still mourn her. That says something about the man you claim has no soul. When was the last time either one of you mourned a lover?" Vermillion said, the seriousness in his face unchallenged by the two men.
"Never," they both laughed out loud.
"Exactly," he continued, "so how could you possibly think you know what kind of toll it could take on someone who was bound to someone else?"
Soul bound? she thought as she gazed over at the King of Shadows, studying those ice-blue eyes that seemed to dim with every drink from his cup, with every conversation that seemed to bore him with every word. How could someone love darkness? How could someone crave the horrors that come along with being trapped in that barren, forsaken land he calls home?
"What do you mean born in a land of crystal light?" Layla interrupted, and the two men stopped mid-sentence to address her.
"The late queen. She was from Lunaris. A child of the moon and stars. Daughter to King Aris, before he was..." The man stopped, looking at Vermillion, who gave him a glare that meant only one thing.
"Killed. Before he was killed?" Layla finished for him.
"These are not things we should speak of," Vermillion said, keeping his voice low as he spoke to Layla. "This is a time for celebration, not talk of the dead or where they hailed from."
"Should we not speak of the dead?" Layla said, a fire growing in her eyes at the mention of murdered and passed monarchs. "How do we keep their memory if we forget to speak of them?"
"Your Majesty, forgive me. I didn't mean to imply..." Vermillion said, his face turning pale white as he realized the tone of the queen's words.
"You're right, Lord Vermillion. Perhaps we should keep these things to ourselves. I'm sure when you pass, I'll keep the words about your life to myself," Layla spat before removing herself from the table, leaving the men to their own words.
She found Dara propped in a doorway, her eyes never leaving Layla as she watched from a distance.
"Tired of politics yet?" Dara laughed, taking a sip from her cup.
"Kill me now, will you? I don't know if I can take another week of this," she said, standing next to her friend.
"Now, now, Queen Layla. These are your constituents. You should be eager to get to know them and join in on their celebration. I mean, Queen Nimura hasn't taken her eyes off of you all night, neither has Prince Helios. Maybe you should ask him for a dance? I'm sure he would be delighted," Dara said, looking over the rim of her cup as Layla shot her a glare that could have roasted her alive.
"I'd rather have a hot poker shoved in my eye," Layla said, as heat began to radiate from her birthmark—nothing painful, but an annoying warmth that she couldn't ignore.
"I need some air," she said, moving towards the door.
"I'll come with you," Dara said, setting her glass on the banquet table.
"I'll only be a minute. Enjoy yourself. You can watch me from here. Make sure no one follows me," Layla laughed, placing her hand on her friend's shoulder, reassuring her it was okay.
"Five minutes, then I'm out the door. Don't make me hunt you down," Dara said, reluctantly giving Layla a bit of space.
Layla walked slowly, looking around to make sure no one had been following as she found a shadowed alcove and stopped, placing her hand against the wall to steady herself. The heat was growing, and she pulled the top part of her dress down to reveal the mark that had grown more detailed, more raised against her skin. It didn't hurt to the touch, but it was embedded in her skin, and she couldn't understand why now, why this was happening to her here.
"You aren't enjoying the festivities?" a voice said from the shadows, the light barely catching part of a face sitting in the darkness.
Layla pulled her dress up quickly and turned towards the sound of the voice.
"Who's there? Show yourself immediately," she demanded, fear coating her skin.
From the shadows stepped a man that looked as if he belonged to the darkness, his golden eyes the only things setting him apart from the darkness itself. She hadn't gotten a good look at him before, but she recognized the eyes immediately, and then fear really gripped her—it was the soldier from dinner, the Umbra soldier.
"Bit dangerous for a queen to be wandering around alone, don't you think?" he said, still moving forward—not a threat but an observation. Either way, she was too far away from the banquet hall for Dara to get here in time.
"I didn't expect some creep to be lurking around watching me. Besides, they are one scream away," she said, narrowing her eyes on him.
He stood against the wall, a wicked smile at the edges of his lips, pearl white teeth gleaming through. She couldn't find the fear that she knew she should have, sitting in the dark with this stranger, but he was more striking than what she had thought when she saw him before—dangerous but striking. Long silver and blue braids lay flat against his leathers, ringed in silver jewelry.
"And what if that scream never made it out? How long before your people come looking?" he said, not looking at her, instead picking at something under his fingernails as if he was toying with her.
"Your mistake is thinking I need someone to protect me," Layla shot back, the fear that she was struggling to find starting to rear its head, slipping down her spine as she watched his every move.
"Right, right. My mistake," he said, straightening up. "Forgot queens can handle themselves these days." His tone was mocking but not cruel. "So what's got the Queen of Auroris hiding in dark corners instead of playing nice with the other royals?"
"Not that it's any of your business, but I needed some air. Is that a problem?" she said, annoyance creeping into her voice.
He shrugged. "Your business is your business. Just seems odd, is all."
"I should be asking what you're doing out here. Shouldn't you be watching your king's back or something?"
"King can handle himself for one night. Besides, nothing much happens at these fancy parties except a lot of talking and drinking." He glanced toward the banquet hall. "Not exactly the kind of danger that needs a guard."
There was something about him she couldn't quite place, something that continued to draw her back to him every time she thought of just ending the conversation and walking away. He obviously had no manners, she thought. Why else would he be skulking around in the dark, sneaking up on people? But it was strange that she didn't walk away.
"That's what you're paid for, isn't it?" she asked, moving so she could still see his eyes.
"Maybe. But there's worse things that could happen to someone than taking a swing at the Shadow King. Trust me, whoever tried wouldn't be around long enough to regret it."
"Well, shouldn't you be getting back to your duties then?" she said, testing him.
"Probably should." He pushed off from the wall and stepped closer. "But I could walk you back first. Seems like the right thing to do."
The wind caught his hair just right, and she caught the scent of leather and ale. Her pulse quickened when he moved closer.
"I can manage on my own," she said, clearing her throat. "My friend will be here soon anyway. She wouldn't appreciate finding me with a stranger."
"Fair enough." That irritating grin spread across his face again. "Was interesting meeting you, Your Majesty."
"Likewise," she said simply, already turning toward the doorway.
When she glanced back, he was gone—nothing but shadows where he'd been standing.
"Hello," Dara said, tapping her on the shoulder. "I said five minutes. Were you really going to have me chase you down?"
"Sorry," she said, glancing back once more at the empty alcove. "Just needed to clear my head."
"Everything alright? You seem... distracted."
Layla shrugged, falling into step beside her friend as they headed back toward the banquet hall. "Just hours of politics." She paused. "It's a lot to process."
"Well, come on then. Let's get you back inside before someone notices the queen has gone missing."
As they walked back, Layla found herself wondering about the strange soldier. His bluntness had been oddly refreshing after hours of careful political maneuvering. Most people either fawned over her or calculated how to use her—he'd done neither.