“And he was just about to say how stunning you look,” Maurice grinned, coming to place a soft cheek onto George’s cheek, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “You do look stunning in the family colors George - were I jealous of my brother, I would try stealing you away myself.”
“George would eat you alive,” Radisson responded, his free hand landing possessively ontop of his fiance’s fingers. “Besides, you always had the pick of the roaster, you can’t complain that this lovely lady chose me.”
“I was saying that you have been rather clever at avoiding this particular question,” Alan interveened, smiling warmly at his soon to be daughter-in-law. As the first female to enter the Greville family in this generation and finally add some femininity to the clan, each member was rather overjoyed for various reasons. Radisson was in love and excited to be a father, Maurice was relieved to have the pressure of expectations lessed on his shoulders and Alan was finally looking forward to welcoming the next generation of Grevilles into the world, spoiling them rotten. “I was hoping we could organize it sooner rather than later and, assuming her royal highness’ blessing, you could come spend a few months at the family home.”
“Father, you know that we did not want to steal the spotlight from the royal wedding,” Radisson shook his head, knowing that the argument would fall on deaf ears. As much as Alan respected and loved Alistair, the prospect of securing his own son’s happiness far outweighed the political considerations he usually covered. In the background, Marcus and Liam exchanged amused glances as the young lady evaluated her betrothed head to toe, making Radisson roll his eyes in play and chuckle. “I haven’t worn green since I entered the Dragon Knights and as such, my wardrobe was a bit outdated.”
“We highly doubted he would fit Emeric’s jacket as easily,” Marcus offered innocently, referring to the much skinnier redhead. “Liam’s huge shoulders fit like a glove.”
“Are you saying I have big shoulders as well, Vale?” Radisson asked with a bit of a challenge, glad to direct his embarrassment at someone.
“You said it, not I,” Marcus shrugged with a smirk, raising the glass of wine in mock deference before all the men in the group bowed before the Dowager Duchess of Eaves, the rogus eyeing her with an amused smile of a predator. However, contrary to the group’s expectation, Beatrix singled Liam out and with a tilt of his head, the blonde slipped away, offering the young courtesan his arm. “She is trouble,” Marcus murmured to no one in particular before his eyes caught George once more. “I’m sorry princess, I know you must be friends.”
Liam followed the young widow curiously, his gaze tracing her perfected stride that emphasized all the curves and left enough for the imagination that most men would be left drooling. She was shorter than the princess royal but with the native Asturian grace and mannerisms that allowed her to rise in court even after the rather untimely death of her previous husband. With Rois being presented to court roughtly the same time as Beatrix, Liam had been offered a rather in depth look at the character of the young noblewoman who became a powerful figure much earlier than would be expected. Seeing her desire to talk in private, the liutenant general exchanged his near empty glass for two full ones from a servant, offering one to the lady as they found themselves off the edges of the large room in the shadows, delicate smiles and pleasant expressions on their faces.
A blonde eyebrow rose in surprised bemusement as he listened to the young politician, his face a perfect mask of propriety mixed with a touch of boredom. Beatrix held nothing back, her eyes and expression sometimes at odds but none the less, she hit home time and time again. Or, at the very least she would if she was talking to anyone else. While his interest for Saskia was growing and could, potentially, with time and circumstance, have headed in the direction Beatrix was implying, Earl of Cliffheaven was not a man who broke his promises and one who played the long game, however that looked.
“Are you quite finished, milady?” he asked with a cold smile that didn’t reach his eyes before moving so that his frame blocked Beatrix in the corner, towering over her. “For those are quite the assumptions you are drawing and rather boldly. You claim loyalty to her highness and here you are, engaging in such backhanded espionage that can easily be overheard by the wrong years including servants. As you yourself mentioned, they tend to be quite observant and chirp to many a master.”
“I have nothing to explain to you nor do you have any right to hold me accountable for any actions, dearest Beatrix, for I broke no law nor promise,” Liam’s smile grew to resembled Marcus’ wolfish grin but while the rogue was unhinged and Alistair was all powerful, Liam’s own power lay in his cool, collected and detached manner as though he was not affected by anything in the world. “If I was a man like Marcus Vale, I would question if you have brought the same accusations to your mistress but I believe you do it from the purest of intentions. You desire to see Saskia happy and successful - is that correct?”
“In that, we are in agreement,” Liam didn’t give the young woman time to respond, leaning closer so that to the outside world it appeared the pair was doing nothing but having a flirtatious conversation. “Her royal highness is a smart, powerful young woman who has been programmed from birth to accomplish one task - become the empress. A huge burden on someone so young, one who had to suffer through the silent oppression of an arranged marriage since she could remember. I simply wish to see her grow into her own, to be the empress Asterius needs and she cannot do that without visible support, something that Alistair is too young and inexperienced to give her. Do you truly begrudge me for being there for her as a friend when she cannot turn to anyone else or is that jealousy? Jealousy that you, Beatrix, are not fully trusted with every worry that her highness has?”
The pale eyes observed the young woman with a curiosity even as he raised his glass to take a sip, the cold liquid running down his throat. With a smirk, he lowered the drink, shaking his head. “My sister Eleanor was quite pleased by such a gift from her highness - the shawl complimented her eyes rather well. The princess royal has impeccable taste as you can see around you. Tell me, Lady Eaves,” Liam leaned down so that his lips ended up at Beatrix’s ear. “Why do you bring that accident? Or do you imagine me at that pond whenever you are at your weakest, during your most private moments?”
The chuckle that followed was rich and bemused, the expression becoming business like once more. Liam moved back, taking another sip and absently complementing the sommelier who selected this particular bouquet. “Let me make one thing clear between us, Lady Eaves. You may serve the future empress and remain loyal to her, my loyalty has always been to Asterious and the Empire.”
As the fanfare sounded to ask the guests to take their respective seats, Liam offered her his arm. “May I escort you to dinner?”
The sound of the royal trumpets echoed around the hall for a second time as guests moved to their delegated seats around the tables, only a selected few ending up on the dias including the young Minister Vale, Earl of Cliffheaven and the Dowager Duchess of Eaves. The doors opened to reveal Carina, the Dowager Empress dressed in an elegant creation of red and black, the lights reflecting off of tiny stones and crystals sewn into her skirts and sleeves. Curtsying in the slightest way before the two foreign princes, she accepted Liam’s hand to be led to her seat, smiling in appreciation as she settled down beside the young man.
“I trust your family is well, Earl,” she smiled, beckoning a young page to fill her goblet and swirling the dark red liquid around the crystal walls of the container. “In your last letter, you were fighting off an affliction of some sort.”
“They were spared the same poor health, your majesty,” Liam responded quietly, aware of a few curious eyes on him and the older woman. “Though I thank you for your concern.”
“I hope you won’t deny the Emperor’s court the presence of your youngest sister for too long,” Carina took a sip, her tongue darting out for a second. Closer to Alistair’s chair, Marcus swallowed heavily and cleared his throat, looking away. “With Aofie and Rois being such lovely jewels of the empire, it would be a shame to keep Elaine from enjoying the same success.”
“Eleanor,” Liam corrected automatically before sighing. “I will be certain to bring it up with the future empress after the wedding. Perhaps your majesty does have a point - I have kept the young Miss Rhyddrech away from Valadis too long and I should change it.”
“Be sure to bring your mother as well,” Carina’s hand landed highly on Liam’s forearm. “I do dearly miss my distant cousin’s company.” The words made Liamg grind his teeth even as he elegantly nodded, forcing out a soft smile.
“I would have it no other way,” The conversation was thankfully broken as the trumpets sounded once more, the whole court rising as the doors were opened, revealing the royal couple standing hand in hand. Alistair was dressed in black with delicate golden accents, the cut of the clothes highlighting his powerful frame and projecting the power, the crown of Asterious on his head gleaming with gold and firestones, red and reflecting the light. Beside him, Saskia was an image in a dress of red and black, the flow of the fabric making her appear even taller than her usual height, emphasizing the grace and power that the young woman held. It wouldn’t be a far fetched statement to say that all the eyes of men were currently on the princess, eyes filled with an array of emotions ranging from respect, desire, jealousy and lust. In truth, the jealousy stemmed from the women currently in the hall as they compared their own appearance to the Lysian girl, wondering how it would feel to stand up beside the Emperor.
“His Imperial Highness, Emperor of Asterious and the Western Isles, Sunrise of the North, Alistair Vallois and her Royal Highness, Princess Royal of Lys, Saskia Castravet,” the master of ceremonies echoed across the hall as the theme of Asterious sounded from the musicians in the balcony. Slowly, Alistair proceeded through the huge length of the hall as on both sides, men and women bowed and curtsied, some murmuring greetings to the couple as they made their way to the high table. Helping Saskia onto the dias and into her chair, Alistair raised his glass, aptly handed to him by his page, his cold gaze sweeping the people.
“To Celembribor, may he bless this feast and may his light guide us into the future,” the Emperor’s voice carried through the air with power. “I welcome you, lords and ladies from all corners of Asterious, and ask you to raise your glasses to Lys who is now part of the Empire. I am pleased to see both of King Poloneus’ sons be guests here in Valadis and soon to be my brothers in law. I welcome you into the fold not as your sovereign but as your blood. May Galadh bestow many years of bliss upon you. To Princes Crysos and Theobald.”
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