Page 63 of The Shadowed Oracle (The Bonded Worlds #1)

Chapter Thirty-Four

Ingrid couldn’t see if a marriage mark was hidden underneath the rakish crown Arryn wore.

Whether a new mark could even be accomplished, she could only guess.

He wasn’t half-awake or reeling in agony from a broken bond—he was lucid, calm, verging on elation as he and his new wife surveyed the chest full of jewels that Raidinn and Dean presented them with.

“An Eolithe!?” He held the blue-grey gem up to his unblinking eye as he spoke. “How remarkable! I’ve never seen one up close.”

“One of our most popular, my king,” Dean said. He and Raidinn had returned to the ground floor of the throne room, nodding dutifully. “One of our partners procures them from the mountains I grew up not a day’s ride from.” It was a lie on both accounts, but Dean didn’t waver in confidence.

“Magnificent. What a blessing you arrived today, of all days.” Arryn kept his gaze on the gem, fixated. “My wife, she awoke with a feeling about today. A feeling! You see, our wedding was unplanned. Conducted on a whim.” He looked to his Queen. “A feeling!”

Enitha perked up. “I have been prone to these things,” she said. “Another blessing from the Mother.”

The crowd took a moment before realizing their participation was expected here, then shouted exalted affirmations.

“How Ealis smiles on you.” Dean slightly bowed.

“Indeed,” Arryn echoed. “She smiles on all of us today. If you’d told me this morning I’d be married and holding a Eolithe gem nearly the size of my skull, I’d have taken you for mad.” He looked to Dean again. “Are they all this big?”

“Not all, no. That particular piece was found deep in the mountain. A perilous, and dare I say artful task to retrieve it.”

“Fascinating.” His eyes were still glued to it. “You’ll have to forgive my ignorance. See, they’re almost impossible to get your hands on where I’m from.”

Ingrid thought there was a flicker of recall in the newly crowned male’s eyes.

A glimmer of his home, where his true wife still resided.

But Arryn didn’t linger, and Enitha didn’t seem at all fazed by her husband’s recollection.

She waved a finger and coolly tilted her head toward Gerhardt.

The lord of coin leaned down to whisper something in her ear, hovering a few moments before priggishly crossing his arms.

“My treasurer tells me you are all related?” Enitha asked.

“Forgive me, my queen,” Gerhardt cut in. “Brother and sister, both.” He pointed to the pairs. “But not all familial.”

“Ahh,” Enitha mused, coiling a piece of her hair around her finger. “But one pair hails from the Northern Bays, yes? Was Gerhardt correct in that?”

Dean and Ingrid nodded.

“How exotic! Now, considering your roots, can I assume this stone comes from the Belannes mountains?” She looked at Dean quizzically, noticeably ignoring Ingrid. “Is that where you grew up in Danneslaw? I’m told only the mines there produce Eolithe this size.”

There was a beat of silence, then Raidinn decided to speak for the first time. “Very astute, my Queen!”

“We have links all over the north,” Dean put in. “Though our representative in Belannes is one of our oldest and most trusted friends. He deals only in the finest uncut gems.” Or so Callinora told him in the reports she’d drawn up.

“I’m happy to hear. It is quality you can see up close, but, one can never be too sure with these things.” Enitha twisted to her side and ran a hand through Arryn’s hair. “My love? Does it please you?”

Arryn cupped her hand, brought it to his cheek, and kissed her palm in a dreamily gentle way. “It does so, yes. If you approve, I think I’ll have it.”

Enitha smiled, scanning the room from end to end like she meant to lock eyes with each and every guest in attendance, demanding them to pay close attention. “We’ll take it!”

The applause was instant. Shouts and cheers and congratulations pinged around the massive hall.

Enitha raised a fist to silence them. “Gerhardt here will escort you to his chambers, where your price will be discussed and covered. I hope to meet again soon...” She said the last words like throwing out a piece of trash, her voice losing its luster as she trailed off.

All too quickly, it felt like the room had been cut in half, a clear line dividing royalty and guests. Gerhardt took a few steps down the staircase, already leading them out with an outstretched hand.

“Raidinn! The name is Raidinn, my Queen!”

All of Tyla, Ingrid and Dean had been nervously racking their brain for a plan, a way to redirect.

So it was fitting the only member of their team who hadn’t sensed their mission going awry, was the one to save them.

And famously, it was a mistake on his part.

Mishearing Enitha’s trailing off as an inquisition for their names, he said, “And this here,” he continued, “Is my sister Tyla.”

The queen turned back slowly, flitting her eyes around the room in curiosity. “Oh…yes, of course.” She was hardly embarrassed, but she didn’t seem pleased either. “How forgetful of Gerhardt not to ask.”

“Apologies.” Gerhardt shifted from pouty to polite in a half-second.

“And you?” the queen followed up, looking directly at Dean. “What do I call you?”

“Denille,” Dean answered with his chosen alias. He’d insisted Ingrid do the same, seeing as their names were mostly heard on Earth. “Thank you for asking, my queen.” He took a few tactical steps forward, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

The queen stared, wrapping another lock of hair between her fingers. “Lord Denille. A pleasure.”

Dean bowed but did not step back. He wanted to show himself, Ingrid realized, give Enitha time to really look.

She hadn’t seemed particularly taken with his resemblance to Arryn at first. Either she didn’t care or hadn’t deigned to look that closely when he’d walked the chest full of jewels up to her dais.

But for the moment, he seemed to intrigue her.

Unblinking, Enitha took another hard look at him, then at her husband, recognition dancing in her light green irises. “I must say, you two could be brothers.” She frowned playfully. “You don’t have another long-lost sibling by any chance?”

Dean chuckled, “I’m afraid not.”

“Our parents are far too boring for such a scandal,” Ingrid added.

Light laughter emitted from the crowd and Enitha flashed a plastered-on smile, looking to her new husband.

“Darling,” Enitha said in a sickeningly infantile voice, stroking his cheek. “I think I know what I want for my wedding memento. Would you be amenable to that?”

It was an interesting choice of words: amenable. Because Arryn only nodded vacantly, kissing his wife’s hand in the same spot he had earlier, like a mechanical default. The now distant look in his eyes was the first sign of something being amiss. An opening they could exploit.

Ingrid took notice.

“Forgive me,” she suddenly intervened. “Your majesty?”

Enitha rolled her eyes over to Ingrid, like a sleeping animal might when an insect buzzed about their ear. “Yes?”

“Considering the occasion. I think I speak for my brother and our business partners when I say that this gem should be a gift to you and your newly crowned husband. A show of good faith, in hopes our trade ties will strengthen with time in the Isles.”

A precious jewel worth more than any the queen wore in her golden crown, at no cost. Enitha had no choice but to match the generosity now. She scanned the young, beautiful Viator, murmurs flying amongst the crowd, giving a dramatic pause before erupting into applause.

“I don’t know what to say. I’m utterly charmed.

” She twisted in her throne and jerked Gerhardt close, whispering.

In response, the high council lord nodded emphatically and scurried off.

“There will be a royal ball tonight,” Enitha went on.

“And festivities continuing on every night for a fortnight, maybe longer. You simply must attend, I insist.”

Not wanting to appear eager, Dean convened silently with his compatriots, giving them deep, searching looks. “We’re flattered, my queen. But we do have urgent business tomorrow in?—”

“More urgent than this?” Enitha cut in.

Dean bowed instantly, withdrawing in apology. “I only meant that… we are merchants, my queen. Working folk.” He peered about the throne room, the jeweled and golden trim accenting nearly every inch of it. “We aren’t used to such grand invitations.”

“I see.” Enitha appeared conflicted, wanting to take offense to the refusal, but flattered by the compliment.

It was all part of Dean’s plan, knowing that Enitha wanted what she couldn’t have.

“Nonsense.” The queen flicked her shining wrist at the crowd.

“The cortege before you were all in your place once. Every guest here held no station higher than your own. In fact, almost all of the stuffy former court aides and retinues were, let’s say, too formal for my liking.

I had them removed.” She huffed at the memory of them. “You’ll fit right in. Please, stay.”

Ingrid cut in, “I’d be honored.”

“As would I,” Tyla echoed.

“Then it’s settled,” Enitha watched them carefully as she spoke. “You’ll all stay for the ball. Yes?”

“Thank you,” Dean agreed finally. “We’d be honored.”

Enitha raised an arm, and with a snap of her fingers, she sent two of her scantily clad servants over to the foursome, a bottle of wine in tow.

The word-walkers took the glasses, raised them, and Enitha mimicked the gesture before devouring her drink.

Within seconds, another courtier approached.

A lithe and near-nude male discreetly conveyed an invitation to join the royal couple up on the dais.

“To present the rest of their wares,” was the wording.

But the hints the diplomatic messenger gave couldn’t have been clearer—glaring omissions, and an obvious lack of eye contact with Tyla and Ingrid.

The two males accepted.

“I’ll be fine,” Dean said, hanging back a moment.

Ingrid nodded. “I know,” she said. “Good luck.”

His hand hovered in the space between them, balling into a fist before reaching her, then he turned to follow Raidinn and the servant.

Enitha was waiting with open arms.