Page 41 of Tree of Ash (The Runic Saga #2)

Ballroom Tension

Larissa

At the balcony’s stone edge, Larissa watched as all of Perle, from the front courtyard of the palace all the way to the Outer Wall, buzzed with action and purpose.

It brought back memories of the time before, when Perle had not been stained by blood but illuminated by winter lights that danced amongst the stars as the land took its well-earned rest. The Smaragdians loved their forest just as fiercely as the Safirians loved the ocean.

The Rubinians celebrated the eruption of their sea volcanoes, and the Diamantians found solace in their white-capped mountains.

But for Perlians, it was fertile soil and a bountiful harvest they enjoyed the most. She could hear the melody played at every Cherry Picking festival, soft and whimsical, so different from the chants she’d heard at the festivals in Rubin.

Four days had passed since the reclamation of Perle.

Four days since the remaining sentries and aristocrats had either pledged themselves to Princess Lovisa and the Vienám or been imprisoned while hurling insults at Lovisa.

Four days since the rest of the thraell had been imprisoned for their actions and their slaves freed.

It would take weeks, if not months, to sort out the innocence and guilt of each man, woman, and child, but by the end of four days, Perle had been returned to royal blood by royal hands.

Hands that gripped the stone with so much force, Larissa was surprised the balcony did not crack beneath her fingers.

The hum of the city was constant, inescapable even, as Larissa stood so far apart from it.

On the far horizon, specks of trucks passed in and out of the Outer Wall as the rest of the Vienám arrived.

With Perle’s population so severely diminished by Shiko’s violence, King Torsten had argued it made more sense to bring the Vienám to Perle rather than keep them in the Nordryggen Mountains.

Yet even with the supposed room for the extra population, the city was bursting at its seams. The Vienám would need to build on their momentum and move quickly to reclaim the Safír commonwealth to the east before the Perlians began to resent the Vienám’s invasion.

All of this was a worry for another day, Larissa had been told.

Tonight was for celebration.

Perhaps that was the true reason Larissa felt panic clawing its way up her throat and why she wore the golden gown and silk slippers when she would rather be in her jeans and boots.

An attendant had left her only moments before, assisting Larissa with the gown that put all others to shame.

The summer-hued fabric was unlike anything Larissa had ever seen, even in the days before Shiko’s betrayal.

She wasn’t sure where Torsten had found it.

The front lace of the gown clung high against her neck while the back dipped dangerously low.

Pearls encased in gold chains hung in semicircles, the metal kissing the bare skin of her back and arms. Intricate braids that tickled her shoulders were woven into her hair.

Her mother’s necklace had been brought from the mountains, and Larissa found comfort in stroking the pearls.

“You look beautiful.” Halla’s voice was filled with awe as she touched the front of Larissa’s gown.

Larissa couldn’t help but chuckle. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

“I mean, this is the first time I’ve seen you out of your boots. Plus, you’ve been covered in blood recently.”

Larissa’s laughter died in her throat. She heard the crack of Hammon’s body against the wall.

Hammon had deserved death, but how many deaths would Larissa be responsible for by the end of the war?

Breathing past the memory, she turned to her sister.

Halla grinned at her, the twinkle of mischief in her eyes as she twirled around so that Larissa could take in the full picture.

Halla’s gown was lavender with long sleeves and a knee-length skirt that billowed with every turn.

If she had wings, Larissa might have mistaken her for a fairy.

Her sister’s laughter was a balm to Larissa’s conflicted soul.

Halla radiated sheer joy, taking true advantage of all the benefits Larissa’s royalty had allotted her.

Yet even as Halla twirled and giggled, the scar at the back of her neck winked at Larissa beneath Halla’s short hair, reminding her of everything Halla had endured.

After the battle, Larissa had brought Halla to the best physicians within the Vienám.

They’d treated her burn with dwarf cornel nectar, closing the wound and removing the blossoming infection, but it had left a silvery scar that would never go away.

The first night of their reunion, the sisters had stayed up long enough to greet the sun the next morning.

When Halla spoke of Fenris and the barracks, Larissa felt immense satisfaction in knowing that the man had been left mentally broken after Darien’s galdr .

He would spend the remainder of his worthless life drooling behind bars.

When they talked about Juni and Saessae, Halla cried.

Larissa could only hold her as the tears her sister had held on to for so long wore themselves out.

But Halla wasn’t crying anymore, not as she twirled and admired her outfit in the full-length mirror leaning against the wall. Larissa choked down the surge of emotions, willing herself to remain in the present. “You look beautiful too, bebe .”

Although Halla wrinkled her nose at the endearment, Larissa could see the pleasure she took from the compliment. “I can’t believe I get to go to a ball tonight!”

Of course Halla was excited about the ball, whereas Larissa could only think of the coronation.

As the sole survivor of her bloodline, Larissa was Queen, or near enough.

All that remained was her coronation and the weaving of her threads into the Taep?stris Friearsamningu .

The Tapestry of Peace, first given by the Norn and destroyed by Shiko during the Great Hrun , was far out of Larissa’s reach, but the crown was not.

It was a technicality that Torsten claimed needed to be rectified immediately if Larissa was to hold authority over Perle when Shiko’s army came for them.

Halvor estimated they would have a week before Shiko learned of Perle’s loss.

Anara disagreed. Shiko had spies everywhere. Even now, someone could be reporting that Lovisa had returned. Perhaps Calder was already on his way.

Larissa shook off her foreboding. “You’ll be the prettiest girl there, more beautiful than Freya herself.”

“You shouldn’t say that,” Halla said, the smile falling from her face. “You might anger the gods.”

Look at our world , she thought. The gods are already angry.

But she said, “Freya will understand.”

A knock at the door prevented Halla’s response.

Anara slipped in, her presence demanding their attention.

The blood-red gown clung to her neck but left her arms bare.

The hemline dripped to the floor, transforming from red to nearly black with slits on either side of her long tan legs.

Around her wrists were two bands connected to the sheer fabric of the dress that rose like wings when she raised her arms. Rubies adorned her head, ears, throat, and wrists.

Despite it all, she plopped herself on the bed and smiled at Halla. “You look lovely.”

Halla beamed.

“Are you aware that someone’s waiting for you down the hall?” Anara jerked her chin toward the door. “The guards won’t let him pass.”

“Kai,” Halla nearly shouted. “I told him to meet me here. Is that okay, Lara?”

Larissa forced her smile to hold. “It’s fine. Why don’t you go join him, Halla? Anara and I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Halla bounded through the door.

“Still full of energy, I see.” Anara’s voice was dry.

“Thank the Norn,” Larissa muttered, wondering if they actually deserved her thanks.

“You don’t like him.”

Larissa raised her eyebrows. “Like who?”

“The boy. Kai.”

Anara wasn’t wrong. The dark-haired boy had stuck by Halla’s side as often as possible, staring at Larissa with disbelief. Though Halla vouched for him, Larissa couldn’t help the distrust she felt every time she noticed his dark eyes watching her only to flit away before she could catch his gaze.

“Is it because he is Diamantian?” Anara asked.

Larissa’s sharp inhale was loud even in her own ears. “So I’m right.”

“I looked into it like you asked me. His appearance certainly fits, but his records with the thraell are spotty at best. It appears his own family sold him into slavery. How he ended up so far south in Perle is unclear.”

His own family, Larissa thought, a twinge of pity undermining her distrust.

“It isn’t his fault,” Anara commented.

“What isn’t?”

“Where he was born. It isn’t his fault. People look at me and they see Rubin. There’s distrust. When they realize I’m a shifter, there’s fear and hatred. I can’t help who I am, and neither can the boy. He stuck by Halla when no one else did; that should be enough.”

Larissa’s cheeks heated, thinking of the way the farmer’s family had reacted to Anara after learning she was a Rubinian and the pain that had flashed in Anara’s eyes. Here she was doing the same thing to Kai. “You’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right.” Anara rose, smoothing the dress. “That being said, I’ll keep an eye on him. There are some gaps in his history I would love to fill. Are you ready?”

It was like whiplash, trying to keep up with Anara’s train of thought.

Larissa’s mind switched back to what lay beyond the door.

First there would be the celebration ball.

Although all Perle and the Vienám had been invited to attend, Larissa knew the festivities would bleed into the streets and homes of the city.

The palace and its grounds could only hold so many.

Torsten claimed it was the release the city needed.