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Authors: Dianne Sylvan
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puppyhood, though over time Queen and Hound had come to understand one another at an almost psychic level.
She wished she could take Vràna in with her. Hound on one side, Prime on the other, she felt safe … protected. She knew she wasn’t weak, but she was not a fighter, and the thought of …
“He is in there,” she said, almost too softly to be heard, staring at the doors. “In a few minutes I will … we will …”
Jacob touched her face. “We don’t have to do this. As long as I come to the meeting tomorrow—”
“No,” she said, perhaps too quickly. “I have to. This is my world now as much as his. I have a right to be here.”
They held each other’s eyes a long moment, and Jacob smiled again, shaking his head in wonder. “You surprise me every night,” he said. “I would never have imagined your strength. I thank God every night when I wake beside you that we found each other.”
She smiled back. “As do I … my love.”
Now he was practically beaming; she was still hesitant to express affection and only very rarely solicited physical attention of any kind. They had made great progress together, but in many ways she was still trying to shed the restrictive skin of who she had once been, and he gave her all the space she needed, telling her just after they met, “We have years ahead to travel down those paths. There’s no need to rush down them—think of all we might miss.”
They moved forward until they had reached the doorway, and the uniformed guard acting as herald consulted his list and then verified their identities with Jacob.
“Here we go,” the Prime said, taking her arm and leaning in to kiss her cheek.
Cora took a deep breath and closed her eyes in a second’s prayer as she heard her name called. Her mind was racing, and all she could think to pray was, God help me … God help me … amen.
The ballroom opened out before her, a vision of formal dress and candlelight and music. The staircase ended at a red carpet that lined the room’s center; on either side, watching each new couple enter the room, were the Pairs of the Council, applauding after names were announced. The orchestra was set up in the far corner, playing a regal but upbeat march. There was so much to take in, and Cora had never seen anything like it; she remembered all the fairy tales she’d heard as a child about princesses and masquerades, and indeed it all felt so unreal, as if she had stumbled into a fairy tale of her own.
Cora scanned the crowd as she and Jacob took the stairs, but she couldn’t see Hart anywhere. One of the hundred terrors she had feared about this night was the thought of meeting Hart’s eyes, tripping over her gown, and tumbling headlong down the staircase.
Instead, she held her head up and smiled, nodding to the Queens she recognized and a few who were watching her curiously—sometimes logistics prevented a Pair from making a state visit, and there were some, like Japan and Australia, that had tendered regrets and sent gifts.
The variety of costume and facial features among the Council was astounding; while most had come in Western-style ball gowns and tuxedos, some were in traditional dress for their homelands, and the colors and luxury were enough to make her head spin. There were glowing stones everywhere; the Primes wore them in place of a bow tie. She had never seen such a diverse crowd before—every imaginable ethnicity was represented.
It seemed to take a year to reach the last step, but as soon as they did, the herald called out another Pair’s names, and the room’s attention shifted back to the top of the staircase. Cora let out the breath she’d been unconsciously holding. Jacob, smiling, squeezed her hand, and together they joined the throng of onlookers.
A moment later, the herald announced, “Prime Deven O’Donnell of the Western United States and his Consort, Jonathan Burke.”
Cora found herself grinning in spite of her anxiety.
Both Deven and
She wished she could take Vràna in with her. Hound on one side, Prime on the other, she felt safe … protected. She knew she wasn’t weak, but she was not a fighter, and the thought of …
“He is in there,” she said, almost too softly to be heard, staring at the doors. “In a few minutes I will … we will …”
Jacob touched her face. “We don’t have to do this. As long as I come to the meeting tomorrow—”
“No,” she said, perhaps too quickly. “I have to. This is my world now as much as his. I have a right to be here.”
They held each other’s eyes a long moment, and Jacob smiled again, shaking his head in wonder. “You surprise me every night,” he said. “I would never have imagined your strength. I thank God every night when I wake beside you that we found each other.”
She smiled back. “As do I … my love.”
Now he was practically beaming; she was still hesitant to express affection and only very rarely solicited physical attention of any kind. They had made great progress together, but in many ways she was still trying to shed the restrictive skin of who she had once been, and he gave her all the space she needed, telling her just after they met, “We have years ahead to travel down those paths. There’s no need to rush down them—think of all we might miss.”
They moved forward until they had reached the doorway, and the uniformed guard acting as herald consulted his list and then verified their identities with Jacob.
“Here we go,” the Prime said, taking her arm and leaning in to kiss her cheek.
Cora took a deep breath and closed her eyes in a second’s prayer as she heard her name called. Her mind was racing, and all she could think to pray was, God help me … God help me … amen.
The ballroom opened out before her, a vision of formal dress and candlelight and music. The staircase ended at a red carpet that lined the room’s center; on either side, watching each new couple enter the room, were the Pairs of the Council, applauding after names were announced. The orchestra was set up in the far corner, playing a regal but upbeat march. There was so much to take in, and Cora had never seen anything like it; she remembered all the fairy tales she’d heard as a child about princesses and masquerades, and indeed it all felt so unreal, as if she had stumbled into a fairy tale of her own.
Cora scanned the crowd as she and Jacob took the stairs, but she couldn’t see Hart anywhere. One of the hundred terrors she had feared about this night was the thought of meeting Hart’s eyes, tripping over her gown, and tumbling headlong down the staircase.
Instead, she held her head up and smiled, nodding to the Queens she recognized and a few who were watching her curiously—sometimes logistics prevented a Pair from making a state visit, and there were some, like Japan and Australia, that had tendered regrets and sent gifts.
The variety of costume and facial features among the Council was astounding; while most had come in Western-style ball gowns and tuxedos, some were in traditional dress for their homelands, and the colors and luxury were enough to make her head spin. There were glowing stones everywhere; the Primes wore them in place of a bow tie. She had never seen such a diverse crowd before—every imaginable ethnicity was represented.
It seemed to take a year to reach the last step, but as soon as they did, the herald called out another Pair’s names, and the room’s attention shifted back to the top of the staircase. Cora let out the breath she’d been unconsciously holding. Jacob, smiling, squeezed her hand, and together they joined the throng of onlookers.
A moment later, the herald announced, “Prime Deven O’Donnell of the Western United States and his Consort, Jonathan Burke.”
Cora found herself grinning in spite of her anxiety.
Both Deven and
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