Page 172 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain

“It is important to me, but so are you.”

We exit through a downstairs sitting area, clearing the porch, and walk through the courtyard and the arched partition separating the garden. Hundreds of candles have been set out and lights strung around the garden, setting it aglow with softly flickering flames in the twilight hour. A cacophony of voices and laughter come from the long table, nearly full with all the siblings, cousins, aunts, and uncles who have come to celebrate.

I see Nana with Leisah, Alec’s mother, chattering and laughing happily. Nana looks up at me, surprised. Leisah turns her head and sees us approaching, and her face lights up. She gives me a wide smile and nods her head at me in greeting, not bringing overt attention to our arrival.

Some of my nervousness eases.

Alec and I walk to the head of the table where he pulls out the chair to his right, holding my hand until I’m seated before taking his own. The family notices us now and a loud, collective cheer of greeting meets us before conversations resume. I scan the faces at the table, more difficult to pinpoint because of the costumes, but I recognize most everyone here.

Alec’s only brother in attendance, Caison, is wearing a matching suit to his and has applied the same glamour. His sisters and their families are scattered throughout. Most everyone is wearing a mask similar to mine.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming to your own party, brother,” Caison calls down the table, giving Alec a knowing smile before drinking from a chalice.

Alec smirks and pours us both a glass of wine from a dark bottle.

“Well, it is a large palace for our dear king to navigate,” I snark and pat Alec’s hand. He gives me a pleasantly shocked smile.

Caison laughs. “That’s a fair point, Elly. Did he ever tell you about the time Kraeston and I gave him a fake map of the palace when we were children?”

Grinning, I reply, “No, I can’t say that he has.” I turn to Alec imploringly.

Alec narrows his eyes down the table at Caison. “Yes, nothing like a story about being tricked as a child by your best friend and little brother to impress a woman.”

Caison grins. “Brother, if you’d ever truly had to work to impress a woman, you would know that childhood stories certainly do the trick.”

Alec gives Caison an incredulous glare, but the burning rage of jealousy everyone expects from me doesn’t quite rear its head at Caison’s insinuations.

Cescily breaks the brother’s stare off with a chiming laugh. “I don’t think anyone can argue that Alec has workedveryhard to impress Elly.”

Several members of the family have turned their ears towards our conversation and laugh, mumbling their agreement.

Caison grins wider. “Too true, Cessy.”

“Well, now I’m curious. What did he think he was going to find with this map?” My amusement kicks higher when Alec hangs his head in his hands with genuine embarrassment.

“Oh gods,” Leisah says. “Are you talking about the time you locked Alec in the crypts?”

More people at the table are tuning into our conversation while Caison turns innocently to his mother. “I’m just helping dear Elly make the point that they were late for entirely innocent reasons.” Caison’s words drip sarcasm; he gives us both a knowing grin.

A roar of laughter erupts at the table. It’s infectious, and I’m not embarrassed by the comment. It’s playful, teasing—not cruel. And most of all, it’s true. I can’t help but laugh and glance at Alec who is peeking out from behind his hand and grinning at me, light pink staining his cheeks.

“Careful, Caison. Little ears are around. Including your own children.” Alec gestures towards the small children sitting on either side of Caison and hiswife.

“That was so over their heads.”

“What’s on my head, Papa?” one of the girls asks with concern, placing her hands on top of her head.

Everyone laughs again.

“Nothing sweet girl. Just Papa making a joke.” Caison kisses the top of her head, and she returns to eating her buttered roll, too impatient to wait for the meal.

“I’m guessing you weren’t looking for a crypt with this map, then?” I ask Alec, desperately wanting to hear the rest of the story. He shoots daggers at his brother who is still trying to feign innocence.

“Of course not. I was eight, and one of the nursemaids at the time told us silly boys a story about child warriors from the Original War; how they were given special, magicked armor.”

Leisah cuts in, cradling one of her many grandchildren to her chest, rocking the toddler back and forth while she speaks. “Not only did that mad woman tell them those nonsense stories, she told them that all sorts of relics from the Original War were stored within the palace. Including the golden child armor.” She rolls her eyes with impertinence. “Alec and Locane were desperate to find it, no matter how many times I told them it wasn’t real.” Leisah says the name fluidly, and no one at the table is tense or uncomfortable by it, adding to my gradually increasing ease around everyone.

I turn back to Alec with giddy disbelief.