Did this mean Holfast, Vorae, and Fenir were going to accept Ruenen as their prince? They hadn’t said otherwise, and the agreement was a positive sign.
“You shall all stay here in the castle tonight until the decree is finalized. Tomorrow, you can get settled into your cottages. You’ll be quite safe here until then. I’ll see to it that you have guards stationed in the corridors,” said Holfast, signaling to Avilyard nearby.
Ruenen couldn’t see their faces, but he wondered what the guards thought about the news. Could they be trusted?
Holfast then stood and pulled on the tassel bell again. Servants reappeared in the doorway and bowed low. “Please prepare four rooms for our guests, as well as the royal chambers.” Holfast said the last line directly to Ruenen.
Acceptance.
The servants and guards stood stock-still, staring at Ruenen, their gazes burning into his skin.
This was it, then: the moment when everything mattered.
Ruenen stood. His legs quivered beneath him as every face watched eagerly.
“Send a message to Rayghast and Tacorn,” he stated. His voice bounded off the stone walls, commanding, sounding braver than he felt. “Tell him the Prince has returned to Nevandia, and is ready to meet him on the battlefield.”
Murmurs flooded the air. The servants clasped their hands together in grateful prayer, giving thanks to Lirr and Laimoen both. One for blessings and rebirth, one for victorious war. A servant burst into tears. The young, friendly guard beamed at Ruenen from the corner.
But the only pair of eyes that mattered to Ruenen were the amethyst ones at the other end of the table.
“Hail, Prince Ruenen Avsharian of Nevandia,” said Holfast.
“Hail!” boomed the other voices.
Slowly, and in one grand movement, the Witan, servants, and guards bent low at the waist. Even Marai, Raife, Thora, and Kadiatu bowed.
Ruenen held his breath. It was strange and awkward to be regarded in such a way when Ruenen had spent most of his life being treated as a pauper and lousy bard. With Monks Amsco and Nori, they’d treated him no differently than a normal child. Ruenen may never get used to the opulence, formality, and esteem; for the attention his mere presence now garnered.
The servants crept back into the hallway, whispering excitedly, as another male servant appeared in more formal attire, bowing deeply with flourish.
“This is the Master of the Household, Bassite,” Holfast said. “Bassite is in charge of making sure the castle runs smoothly. Any problems with staff, you go to him. This is Prince Ruenen, the heir of King Vanguarden. He has finally come home.”
Ruenen could hear the lie in Holfast’s voice, but he doubted anyone else could who didn’t already know the truth.
“Your Royal Highness, it’s an honor and a joy to meet you,” said Bassite in a strained tone. Ruenen thought the white-haired man was close to tears.
“Bassite will give you a tour of the castle and escort you to your rooms,” said Holfast. “If you excuse me, there’s much to be done. I must alert the Witenagemot and our people of your arrival, Your Highness. I’m sure you require time to prepare yourself before addressing the city today.”
Ruenen blanched. “So soon?”
“Naturally,” Vorae said. “The city is flooded with rumors. We must confirm them, put a face to the name, and allow you to greet the people properly.”
“Your Highness, forgive us, but we were not prepared for your arrival. I’m afraid dinner tonight will be an informal affair,” Bassite said, then his eyes opened wide in horror. “Unless, of course, you desire a grand feast for you and your guests. We’ll do whatever you require, Your Highness.”
“Oh, please, not at all. We’ll eat in our rooms,” Ruenen replied with a casual wave of his hand, in an un-king-like manner. He was overwhelmed enough as it was. A feast that evening was absolutely unnecessary.
Bassite nodded and waited patiently at the main doorway until all seven fae had assembled behind Ruenen. The Master of the Household knew the entire history of the castle. He related which style of architecture was used, why certain colors were chosen, and which rooms were the past ruler’s favorites. As they all walked down the grand hallways, Ruenen was too lost in thought, too nervous to take in the beautiful decor and magnificent architecture. Ruenen knew it was rude of him, but the last thing he wanted was a tour and history lesson.
“Ever the student,” Raife chuckled, pointing at Keshel, who ate up every word Bassite spoke.
The servant wasn’t yet aware he was addressing a group of fae, so he didn’t fear Keshel being so close to his side. If anything, Bassite grinned with contentment at Keshel’s keen interest.
Ruenen craved a bath and time alone. What was he going to say when he addressed the people? How could he explain to them where he’d been for twenty-two years? How many lies would he have to invent, and how would he keep them all straight?
And perhaps more than all that . . . how would Rayghast react to the news? How quickly would he retaliate?
Bassite came to a long hallway on the second floor. “Here is where your guests will be staying, Your Highness. Their belongings have already been brought up and dispersed amongst the rooms.”
“We can organize them,” Thora said, and began assigning rooms. Raife and Leif took the first room next to Thora and Kadiatu. Keshel would have his own across from the twins, and Aresti and Marai would share the next chamber.
“No,” both Marai and Aresti said defiantly at the same time.
“I’d rather sleep on the floor in Keshel’s room,” Aresti said, crinkling her nose, then stalked inside and closed the door behind Keshel.
Marai wandered into her own bedchamber through the large oak doors.
“If you’ll follow me, Your Highness,” Bassite said, beginning to make his way down the hall.
But Ruenen lingered, wanting to see Marai’s reaction, to make sure she was pleased. Syrupy warmth spread through him as her jaw dropped.
The room was twice as large as the entirety of the cavern. An enormous four-poster bed stood near a set of large bay windows overlooking a dead garden in the back. A blue settee and two plush golden armchairs were arranged near a grand marble fireplace. A dresser sat against the wall.
Marai trailed her fingers over the silk, embroidered cushions of the settee. “This room is far too big for me.” She did appear incredibly small in such a spacious chamber. “I’d prefer the abandoned cottage.”
“Don’t be silly, Marai, you’ve earned a night in a comfortable bed,” Ruenen said. “How lovely, there’s a bath here, too.”
Marai followed Ruenen’s gesture behind a decorative partition off in the corner, behind which sat a large bronze basin. Ruenen’s heart brimmed with light as Marai tried to hide the grin sprouting upon her lips.
